Page 5 of Wade’s Wrath

“You've got something to say, say it,” he insisted.

“I’m trying to decide if you insult everyone you meet,” she said.

“Pretty much.” The corner of her mouth twitched, just barely, but he saw it.

The pounding at the front door made her jump. “Wade!” a familiar voice shouted. “Open the fucking door.”

Harlow’s gaze flew to his. “It’s Butcher,” Wade explained as though she’d know who he was. He crossed the room and unlocked the door, and Butcher stepped inside first, rain dripping from his cut. Two brothers followed him, both looking ready for war.

Butcher took one look around the room before his gaze landed on Harlow, and he stopped. His eyes traveled from the wedding dress to the bruises on her wrist and finally to Wade. “What the fuck did you get us into?”

“Me?” Wade asked.

“It’s your bar,” Butcher said.

“She walked in here on her own,” Wade insisted. Butcher looked at Harlow again, and she lifted her chin slightly. Wade almost felt proud of her for it.

“Who is she?” Butcher asked.

“Harlow,” Wade said.

“I gathered that much from what the guys told me,” Butcher grumbled. Wade shrugged, and Butcher stared at him as though waiting for a better answer.

“What?” Wade asked.

“Last name might be fucking useful,” Butcher said. Wade looked at Harlow, and he could see the fear in her eyes again. It wasn’t as strong as when Frank had been outside banging on the door, but it was enough that Wade noticed.

“Harlow?” he prompted. “What is your last name?”

She set the fry back onto her plate and looked at him in disbelief. “You really don’t know who I am?”

“Nope,” he said.

Butcher glanced at Wade and then looked back at her. “Should we?” Apparently, they should, with the way that Harlow looked between them before slowly wiping her palms against the ruined skirt of her wedding dress.

“My name is Harlow Kane.” He didn’t know that name, and Butcher didn’t seem to either. She almost looked confused by their lack of reaction.

“Okay,” he said.

Her brows shot up. “Okay?”

“Should your name mean something to us?” Wade asked.

“My father is Richard Kane,” she said. Butcher went still, and Wade noticed immediately. Apparently, that name did mean something to him.

“Fuck,” Butcher muttered.

“What?” Wade asked.

Butcher looked at him. “Richard Kane?”

Harlow nodded.

“The Richard Kane?” Butcher asked again.

Her mouth tightened. “Unfortunately.”

Wade looked between them. “Somebody want to tell me who the fuck Richard Kane is?”