Page 115 of Taking Denver

“Harley.”

No, not Harley.

“Hello, Harley. I’m Wilder. It’s lovely to meet you.” A gunshot rings out, and people scream. “Goodbye, Harley. It was lovely to meet you.”

The sound reverberates through mymind, and I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back an onslaught of despair for Harley’s son. Harley’s family. Harley, my friend. A good fucking person.

Tears sting my eyes, and I close my hands into fists, my fingernails biting into my palms.

Fuck Wilder Harland to hell and back.

I stand and stride into the room. Harley is face down on the floor, blood spreading around her head.

And I come face to face with Wilder Harland again.

He bows deeply. “It’s lovely to see you again, Deluxe.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

Wilder straightens up and tuts, looking pointedly at his men who flank him. “Isn’t she rude? All I wanted was another chat with your husband after our fun together last time.” He bends to the side to glance past me, then around the room. “It seems he thinks his life is more important than yours.” He raises his voice. “I didn’t take you for a coward, Ranger!”

Silence greets him, and I know what Ranger is doing and why he’s quiet.

“What do you think you’re going to achieve?” I ask, counting the painful seconds in my head. “Do you think you’ll impress Ranger by doing this?”

Wilder barks out a laugh. “Impress him? Sweetheart…” I grimace at the term. “I want to kill him. I want to take everything he has. I want San Francisco to forget his fuckingname.” The wild playfulness in his eyes vanishes, and darkness follows. He’s so angry, so irrationally angry, that when he approaches, it takes everything in me not to step back.

“Why?” I ask, relieved when he stops advancing.

He points the gun at his chest. “Because he disrespected me. He thinks he can make deals with my brother to put me on a leash?”

I would laugh if the grief weren’t crushing me. If Harley wasn’t dead at my feet, if Ethan wasn’t dead on that balcony. “What is wrong with you? How can you think any of this makes sense?”

“Because I’m Wilder fucking Harland!” he screams, eyes wide, his voice echoing through the ballroom, some people whimpering in response. “I am somebody.”

Maybe he was at some point. But he lost his power because he refused to lose his morals. Or maybe Ranger was right at the restaurant all those weeks ago. Maybe Wilder was stupid, and this life had poisoned his mind, and he believed the only way to regain respect was through blood.

Has a minute passed? Two? Or three?

I need more time. “Wilder?—”

“No more talking.” He lifts the gun. Mybreath is sharp, and I take a singular step back, but a bullet doesn’t shatter the quiet—a voice does.

“No!”

A voice I know. A voice belonging to a man I wish wouldn’t be such a fucking hero.

Don’t, Sebastian. I can’t lose you, too.

Wilder’s gaze darts to where Sebastian had called from. “Who was that? Who is our tribute?”

Stay down, Sebastian. Stay down.

“Hands in the fucking air.” Archer is on his feet before Sebastian, his gun aimed at Wilder. I never thought I’d be relieved to see him, but I am.

Wilder blinks at Adler once, then returns his attention to me. “You invited a cop to your wedding? That’s disgusting.”

“Hands. In the fucking.Air,” Archer bites out.

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