Page 29 of Wade’s Wrath

“I’m definitely violent in the right circumstances,” he assured. The thought of Frank laying a hand on her made him violent, but he kept that bit of information to himself.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought that all bikers are criminals,” she said.

Wade raised an eyebrow, and she smiled. “I'm pleading the Fifth on that one.”

Her smile grew. “And maybe scary.”

“I'm fucking terrifying,” he insisted. Harlow laughed. There it was—that sound again. Hearing her laugh made his damn heart skip a beat, and Wade wanted more of it. He wanted to hear it in his house, his bar, and even his bed—nope. That couldn’t happen.

He stepped back. “Get in the truck.”

“Bossy,” she grumbled.

“Harlow,” he warned.

“I’m going.” He shut the door behind her. When Wade walked around the front, Ripper was leaning against his bike, and the bastard was grinning at him.

“Why the hell are you smiling at me, fucker?” Wade asked.

“No reason,” Ripper lied.

“Just fucking say it,” Wade insisted.

“You're fucked,” Ripper said. Wade flipped him off, and Ripper laughed even harder. Apparently, everyone had reached the same conclusion—even him.

The Savage Bastards' new clubhouse sat well outside Huntsville, far enough from the nearest neighbors that nobody cared about motorcycles coming and going at all hours. Normally, Wade felt more comfortable there than almost anywhere except his bar, but today was different.

Harlow went quiet the moment they pulled through the gates, and Wade noticed her staring at the bikes lined outside the clubhouse. There were men wearing cuts standing near the entrance, and several turned toward his truck as he drove past. Harlow's hand tightened around the seat belt. Wade parked but didn't shut off the engine immediately.

“You okay?” he asked.

“That's a lot of bikers,” she whispered.

“You've already met most of the ugly ones,” he said. That got the smallest smile from her. “I’ll introduce you to some of the better-looking ones today.”

“Which category are you in?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m handsome as fuck, honey,” he teased.

She snorted. “Confidence isn't your problem.”

“Nope.” Wade shut off the engine, and Harlow didn't move. Instead, he waited her out.

After a few seconds, she asked, “They're going to question me, aren't they?”

“Probably,” he said.

“About the files that I saw,” she guessed.

“Yeah,” Wade said, not wanting to lie to her.

“And about Frank,” she said. “And my father.”

“Most likely,” he agreed. Her fingers tightened around the seatbelt again, and Wade turned slightly in his seat. “You don't have to tell them anything you aren't ready to tell.”

“But your club needs information,” she insisted. “I’ve brought you into my mess, and now, I need to help get you out of it.”

“We need you not falling apart more than we need information, Harlow,” he insisted.