Page 57 of Wade’s Wrath

He leaned closer to her. “Watch me.” Her lips parted. Wade didn't care that Butcher and Ripper were standing there. He didn't care that he was making promises he had no business making. Harlow had spent her entire life surrounded by men who used promises to control her. Wade would use his to protect her. There was a fucking difference. “You stay with me.”

Her eyes searched his. “Until when?”

The answer came too easily. “Until this is over.”

Something moved across her face. “And then?” Fuck. Wade hadn't thought that far—or maybe he had. Maybe that was why the question scared the shit out of him.

“Then you decide what you want to do,” he said.

She stared at him. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“What if I decide I want to leave?” she asked.

His gut tightened. “Then you leave.” The words tasted like shit, but he said them anyway.

“And if I decide I want to stay?” she asked.

Wade forgot Butcher existed, and Ripper too. He forgot about the warehouse. For one dangerous second, there was only Harlow. “Then you stay.” Her eyes softened.

Behind them, Butcher muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ.” Wade flipped him off without looking, and Harlow laughed. He'd take that sound over her tears any fucking day.

Butcher's phone rang, and he checked the screen. All humor disappeared from his face. “Yeah?” He listened, and Wade watched his expression change.

“What is it?” Wade asked.

Butcher held up a finger and then turned away. “Where?” There was another pause. “When?” Wade felt as though he was holding his breath, waiting for Butcher to say something else. “Don't touch anything. We're coming.” He hung up.

Wade's instincts immediately went on alert. “What happened?”

Butcher looked at Harlow and then Wade. “We found her car.”

Harlow frowned. “My car?”

“Yes, the one you drove away from the wedding,” Butcher said.

“Where was it?” Harlow asked.

“About thirty miles from Wade's bar,” Butcher said.

Her brows pulled together. “That doesn't make sense.” Wade agreed because she had arrived at the bar in that car, or at least he'd assumed she had.

“Where'd you leave it?” Wade asked her.

“In the parking lot beside the bar,” Harlow said. Fuck.

Butcher's face hardened. “It’s not there anymore.”

Harlow looked frightened. “Who moved it?”

“Don't know,” Butcher said.

Wade's phone buzzed, and a photograph came through from one of the brothers. He opened it. Harlow's car sat on the shoulder of an empty road with the driver's door open. Wade zoomed in and noticed that something white was lying across the front seat.

“What the fuck?”

Harlow moved beside him. “What?” He tried to angle the phone away, but it was too late because she already saw it. Her face drained of color. “My dress.” Wade looked closer. The wedding dress they'd thrown into a trash bag at the bar was spread across the driver's seat. Someone had taken it from the dumpster. Someone had moved her car, and someone wanted Harlow to know they'd done it.