Page 8 of Wade’s Wrath

“It changes fucking everything. If Donnelly is moving women and Kane is involved, this shit is bigger than some asshole chasing his runaway bride,” Butcher said.

“I know,” Wade admitted.

“Do you?” Butcher asked. Wade's expression hardened, and Butcher stepped closer. “You’ve known her for thirty fucking minutes.”

“So?” Wade asked.

“So I know that look,” Butcher said.

“What look?” Wade questioned.

“The one you have right now,” Butcher said. Wade glanced toward Harlow. She was sitting at the table, staring down at the burger she still hadn’t touched. She was tiny, wet, bruised, and alone. His chest tightened. Fuck.

Butcher sighed. “There it is again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Wade grumbled.

“She can’t stay at the bar,” Butcher insisted.

“I agree.” That clearly surprised Butcher.

“Good,” Butcher said.

“She’s coming home with me,” Wade said. Butcher stared at him, and then he laughed, but Wade didn't.

Butcher's laughter died. “You're serious.”

“Dead serious,” Wade breathed.

“Wade—” Butcher started.

“She needs somewhere safe to stay until she can figure things out,” Wade said.

“We have safehouses,” Butcher reminded.

“I know,” Wade said.

“Then put her in one,” Butcher said.

“No,” Wade breathed.

“Why the fuck not?” Because Wade didn't trust anyone else with her. The thought came fast enough to piss him off. He barely trusted himself with the woman, but he damn sure wasn't handing her off to someone else tonight.

“She stays with me.” Butcher studied him for several long seconds, and then he shook his head.

“You are so fucked,” Butcher grumbled.

“Probably,” Wade said with a shrug.

“And you don't even know it yet.” Wade looked back toward Harlow. She chose that moment to finally take a bite of the burger. Her eyes lifted and found his. She held his gaze, and something settled deep in Wade's gut—something possessive and dangerous.

Something he had absolutely no business feeling for a woman whose last name he'd learned less than ten minutes ago. But Butcher was wrong about one thing. Wade knew exactly how fucked he was. He just didn't give a damn.

HARLOW

Harlow had officially lost her mind. There was no other explanation for why she was sitting at a scarred wooden table in a biker bar at God-only-knew-what hour, eating the best cheeseburger she’d ever tasted while a group of men called the Savage Bastards decided what to do with her.

Her wedding dress was ruined, her car was abandoned three towns away, Frank wanted her back, her father was probably having an aneurysm, and apparently, Wade had decided she was going home with him. That last part should have frightened her more than everything else combined; instead, Harlow took another bite of her burger.