Page 13 of Wade’s Wrath

“It's going to have to be enough for tonight,” he said. She studied his profile, and she knew that he wasn't going to give her anything else. Any other time, that would have pissed her off, but she was just too tired to care right now. She rested her head against the window and her eyes drifted closed. She didn't know where Wade was taking her. Harlow didn't know what tomorrow would bring. She didn't know if Frank would find her again, but tonight, she had escaped. Tonight, she had chosen herself, and for the first time in a very long time, Harlow Kane had absolutely no intention of letting anyone choose for her again.

Harlow woke up screaming. One second, she was trapped inside the ballroom with Frank’s hand wrapped around her wrist, her father standing behind him telling her to stop making a scene. The next, she was sitting upright in a strange bed with her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“No!” she shouted. She scrambled backward until her shoulders slammed against the headboard. Darkness surrounded her, and she looked around the room, trying to figure out where the hell she was.

“Harlow?” The deep voice came from somewhere beyond the bedroom door, and she froze—Wade. Memories rushed back all at once—the wedding and running from Frank. She remembered stumbling into Wade’s Watering Hole and Frank threatening his entire club to get to her, but Wade didn’t flinch. She remembered Wade driving her away from the bar, which meant that she had to be at Wade’s house—safe. At least, she hoped she was. Honestly, she was half asleep when he helped her into his house. She barely remembered anything past getting into his truck.

“Harlow?” he said again. The door remained closed, and that registered somewhere through the panic. Wade wasn’t barging inside. He was giving her privacy and space.

“Yeah,” she managed.

“You okay?” he asked.

What a ridiculous question. “No.”

There was a pause. “Can I come in?” That surprised her enough to pull her completely out of the nightmare. He was asking for permission, and that wasn’t something that she was used to.

Harlow dragged a shaking hand through her hair. “Yeah.” The door opened slowly. Light from the hallway spilled into the room, outlining Wade’s massive frame. He wore nothing but a pair of black sweatpants; his chest was bare, and his hair was disheveled from sleep. Oh, wow. That was completely unexpected. Harlow immediately looked away because she was absolutely not going to ogle the nice man who was giving her a place to stay for the night. She had enough problems, and adding an attraction to the biker currently protecting her did not need to become one of them.

Wade reached for the lamp beside the door and turned it on, allowing the soft light to fill the room. “You were screaming.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don't apologize,” he said.

“But I woke you,” she insisted.

“I was awake already.”

She looked at him. “You were?”

“The couch sucks,” he said.

Despite herself, she smiled slightly. “I told you I'd sleep there.”

“And I told you no,” he said.

“There seems to be a pattern developing here,” she said.

“Yeah. You argue a lot,” he teased.

“I was going to say you’re bossy,” she said.

“That too.” His gaze moved over her face. Harlow became painfully aware that she was sitting in his bed wearing his club’s T-shirt. Through her brain fog, she remembered changing out of the borrowed sweatpants before going to sleep because they were too big, which meant the shirt was currently the only thing covering her. Thankfully, it fell almost to her knees. Wade apparently realized the same thing because his eyes dipped for half a second before returning firmly to her face. Something warm fluttered low in her stomach. This was exactly what she didn’t need.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked. She nodded. “Was it about Frank?” She nodded again, and Wade’s jaw tightened. He stepped farther into the room but stopped several feet from the bed. “You want some water?”

“Please,” she said. He disappeared without another word, and Harlow released a shaky breath. She looked around the bedroom. She hadn't really noticed much when they arrived. Exhaustion had taken over before Wade had even finished showing her where everything was. His house wasn't what she'd expected. She'd pictured something dark and filthy. Beer bottles everywhere. Motorcycle parts in the living room. Maybe a stripper pole. Instead, Wade’s place was clean and comfortable. It was masculine without looking like he'd decorated it by walking through a sporting goods store blindfolded. The bedroom was simple. With a large bed and dark furniture. It had nothing unnecessary. There were no photographs, and she found that interesting.

Wade returned carrying a bottle of water, and he stopped beside the bed and held it out. “Thanks.” Their fingers brushed as she took the bottle from him, and Harlow jerked. Wade immediately pulled his hand back.

“Sorry,” he breathed.

“No.” She twisted the cap off the bottle. “You didn't do anything.” His eyes dropped to her wrist. Even in the dim light, the bruises were obvious. She instinctively tugged the sleeve lower.

“Harlow.” She hated the way he said her name. It was too gentle, and gentleness could break her faster than cruelty ever had.

“What?” she asked.