Page 85 of Wade’s Wrath

Harlow pulled back. “Thank you.”

Princess smiled. “You shot the asshole. I mostly provided moral support.”

Harlow laughed through her tears, and Wade came up behind them. “Is that my gun?”

Princess looked at the floor. “Maybe.”

Wade stared at her. “You gave Harlow my gun?”

“She needed it,” Princess insisted.

“You couldn't give her Butcher's?” he asked.

Butcher looked offended. “Why the fuck are my guns disposable, and yours aren’t?” For one strange second, Harlow started laughing—really laughing. All three of them stared at her, but she couldn't stop. Maybe it was shock. Hell, it probably was, but after the last two days, laughing felt better than screaming.

Wade wrapped an arm around her waist. “You losing it on me?”

“Possibly,” she admitted.

“Good, it means you're still here with me.” Harlow looked up at him. She was still here. She ran from Frank and ran from her father. She ran from the wedding she never wanted. But tonight she didn’t run. She stayed, and she fought, and when Frank came for her again, she survived. It wasn’t because Wade saved her, and not because Butcher or Princess did either. They helped and stood beside her, but in the moment that mattered, Harlow had saved herself.

She looked toward the open clubhouse door. Outside, police lights flashed across motorcycles and pavement as her father sat in the back of a police cruiser. Frank would never control another woman. And somewhere across town, Sarah was alive.

Wade's arm was wrapped around her and Harlow leaned into him. “What happens now?”

Wade looked down at her. “Now?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

He thought about it. “You’ll have to answer questions and give your statement.” She groaned. “Then you’ll probably have to answer more questions.”

“Wonderful,” she grumbled.

“Then I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out,” he said.

“I'm fine,” she insisted.

“Your wrist isn't,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Bossy.”

“Yep,” he breathed.

“And after that?” she asked.

His expression softened. “After that, I take you home.” That was the part she was looking forward to most—home. He was going to take her back to his house and his bed. All she wanted was to be with him.

Harlow smiled. “You’re looking at me that way again,” she said.

Wade quickly looked around the room to make sure that they didn’t have an audience. “What way?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Like you're about to say something stupid,” she said.

His mouth twitched. “I was thinking something stupid,” he admitted.

“What were you thinking?” she asked.

Wade looked around the destroyed clubhouse—at the cops, at Frank, the broken glass, and then back at her. “You're never allowed to complain that my life is boring.”