Page 19 of Wade’s Wrath

He stood quietly and pulled the blanket back over her, and Harlow sighed. Her hand curled around the edge of his pillow, and something tightened painfully in his chest. Nope. He wasn't examining that. Wade backed away from the bed. He needed coffee, and distance—lots of fucking distance. He slipped from the bedroom and left the door open exactly as she'd asked.

The first cup of coffee did nothing to help, and neither did the second. By the third, Wade had accepted the fact that he was going to feel like roadkill all damn day. He stood barefoot in his kitchen wearing sweatpants and staring through the window over the sink when his phone vibrated across the counter. It was Butcher, and he knew it before he even answered it.

Wade answered. “What?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Butcher said.

“Fuck off,” Wade hissed.

Butcher laughed. “Didn't sleep?”

“Why are you calling?” he asked.

“That bad, huh?” Butcher asked.

Wade took another drink of coffee. “Butcher.”

“All right, Jesus. I wanted to let you know we had somebody drive past the bar twice about an hour ago.”

That woke him up. “What kind of vehicle was it?”

“Black sedan. Plates came back registered to a shell company,” Butcher said.

“Do you think it was Donnelly?” Wade asked.

“Probably,” Butcher breathed.

Wade stared toward the hallway to where Harlow was still sleeping. “He knows she's with me.”

“Yeah,” Butcher said.

“Do you think that he knows where I live?” Wade asked.

“Not yet,” Butcher said. Wade heard the emphasis that Butcher put on the word yet, and he suddenly hated that fucking word.

“You got someone watching the house?” Wade asked, already knowing the answer.

“Ripper's down the road,” Butcher admitted.

Wade glanced through the kitchen window. He hadn't noticed anyone out there watching his house, and that pissed him off too. “You could've told me.”

“I just did,” Butcher said.

Wade sighed. “Before you put a brother outside my house,” he said.

“You were busy playing Prince Charming,” Butcher joked. The bastard actually laughed at himself, although Wade didn’t find him funny at all.

“I'm hanging up,” Wade grumbled.

Butcher laughed. “How's Sleeping Beauty?”

Wade ended the call before Butcher could ask him any more questions. “Asshole,” he grumbled.

His phone immediately buzzed again, and this time, it was a text.

BUTCHER: Church. Noon. Bring the girl.

Wade stared at the message—bring the girl. He didn't like that either. Harlow wasn't club business, except she was. Frank had made sure of that when he'd shown up at Wade's Watering Hole with armed men and threatened a woman under the Savage Bastards' protection. And the second Harlow mentioned files containing women's names and prices, the situation had become something bigger. Wade knew Butcher couldn't ignore it, and neither could he.