Page 36 of Wade’s Wrath

Wade motioned toward her. “Go ahead.”

Harlow took a breath. “I thought Frank might have it. He and my father had started handling most of the wedding arrangements together, and Frank had been keeping documents in his home office.”

“You lived with him?” Wade asked.

“No.” His shoulders relaxed, and she noticed. Interesting. “I was at his house for dinner. He got a business call, and I told him I needed to use the bathroom.”

“But you went into his office,” Wade guessed.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Good girl.” Heat immediately rushed into her cheeks. Wade seemed to realize what he'd said at the same time, and their eyes met. Something hot passed between them. One of the bikers cleared his throat loudly.

Butcher rubbed both hands over his face. “For fuck's sake.” Harlow looked away, and Wade chuckled. She wanted the floor to swallow her. “Continue,” Butcher said.

“Right.” Harlow tucked her hair behind her ear. “I searched his desk. I didn't find my passport, but one of the bottom drawers was locked.”

“So you broke into it?” Wade asked.

“I found the key,” she said.

“Well, that’s a lot less exciting,” Wade mumbled.

She glared at him. “Sorry my story isn’t exciting enough for you.” Harlow turned back toward Butcher before Wade could embarrass her further. “There was a flash drive inside.”

“You took it?” Butcher asked.

“No,” she breathed.

Wade groaned. “What?” she asked.

“You should've taken it,” he insisted.

“I wasn't exactly planning an international espionage operation,” she reminded.

“You were already breaking into his desk,” Wade said.

“I was looking for my passport!” she reminded.

“And found something better,” Wade countered.

“I didn't know what it was at the time,” she said.

Butcher held up a hand. “Wade, let her talk.”

Harlow exhaled. “There were papers too. Shipping manifests, property records, and lists of names.”

“What kind of shipping manifests?” Butcher asked.

“I don't know,” she admitted.

“Can you remember company names?” he asked.

“Kane Logistics was one,” she said. “But I’ve already told you that.”

“What else?” Butcher asked. Harlow closed her eyes. She tried to picture Frank's office with the dark wood desk and leather chair that sat in the corner. She remembered the papers spread across the surface. She'd been terrified he'd return before she could put everything back.

“There was something with Blue Ridge in the name.”