Page 114 of Wade’s Wrath

Ripper noticed her staring at the gate. “You want it left open?”

“What?” she asked.

“The gate—do you want it left open?” he asked.

“You can do that?” she questioned.

He shrugged. “For a few minutes,” he said.

“Won't Butcher be mad?” she asked.

“Probably,” he said. Sarah looked at him, and Ripper rolled down the window. “Leave it open.”

The prospect frowned. “Prez said⁠—”

“Leave it open,” Ripper ordered again.

The younger man glanced at Sarah and understanding crossed his face. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sarah swallowed. “You didn't have to.”

“I know that,” he said. The truck continued toward the clubhouse. There were maybe six motorcycles outside, two trucks, and a handful of men—but that was still too many. Ripper parked away from the main entrance, and Sarah stayed seated. He turned off the engine, but didn’t move.

“You've got options.”

Her eyes stayed on the building. “Like what?” she asked.

“We go inside,” he offered.

“Obviously, that’s my only option,” she grumbled.

“We sit here,” he said.

“Okay, but we can’t do that forever,” she insisted.

“We can leave,” he said.

Sarah finally looked at him. “And go where?”

“Anywhere,” he said.

“That's not an answer,” she insisted.

“We can go to Wade's bar,” he offered.

“I'd rather not be around his customers drinking and being loud,” she said.

“I can take you to visit Princess,” he said.

“Butcher lives there,” she mumbled.

Ripper snorted. “Unfortunately.”

“What about your house?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, and Sarah froze. Why the hell had she said that? Ripper's expression went unreadable, and Sarah immediately looked away. “Forget I said that.”

“Sarah,” he breathed.

“I didn't mean—” she started.