Page 6 of Wade’s Wrath

Butcher let out a humorless laugh. “He’s in real estate, construction, and has made numerous political donations. Half the goddamn state has taken his money at one point or another.”

“My father likes owning people,” Harlow said quietly. Wade looked at her. That sentence carried a hell of a lot more weight than the words themselves.

“And who the hell is Frank?” Butcher asked.

Harlow’s expression hardened. “Frank Donnelly.” Butcher cursed again. Wade was getting tired of being the only bastard in the room who apparently didn’t recognize names.

“Who the fuck is he?” Wade asked.

“Trouble,” Butcher said.

“No shit,” Wade said.

“I mean serious trouble,” Butcher continued.

Wade leaned against the edge of the table. “I'm listening.”

Butcher looked at Harlow. “You sure that's who was outside?”

“Yes. I was supposed to marry him tonight,” Harlow said.

“Supposed to?” Butcher asked.

“I left before the ceremony was finished.” That caught Wade’s attention. He looked down at her left hand. The diamond ring was still there.

“You’re not married?” he asked.

“No, I’m not,” she breathed. Something in his chest loosened, and he immediately told the unwelcome feeling to fuck off. Why the hell did he care whether she was married? Butcher apparently caught something in Wade’s expression because his eyes narrowed at him, but Wade ignored him.

“What happened?” Butcher asked Harlow.

She looked down at her plate. For a long moment, Wade thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she whispered, “I ran.”

“Why?” Butcher asked.

Wade saw her fingers tighten around the edge of the table. “Harlow,” he said quietly. She looked at him, and he didn’t know why she seemed to find something reassuring in his face, but some of the tension left her shoulders.

“My father arranged the marriage,” she said. “He called it a merger.”

Wade felt his jaw clench. “A merger?” he repeated.

“Between families. Businesses. Connections. Whatever the hell rich men call selling their daughters these days,” Harlow spat.

Butcher pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “What does Frank get for marrying you?” he asked.

“You mean besides me?” she teased, batting her eyelashes at him. “He gets my father’s connections,” Harlow said.

“And what does your father get in return?” Butcher asked.

Harlow hesitated. “I don’t know everything,” she insisted.

“But you know something,” Wade said.

She looked at him again and nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, then start with what you know,” Butcher ordered.

“I heard them arguing a few weeks ago. Frank told my father that once they were family, he’d have access to routes he couldn’t get on his own.” Butcher and Wade exchanged a look. Routes—that word could mean a hundred things, most of them bad.