Nash spat at the guy’s feet, which only riled him up more. For that, Nash copped another punch.
The guy who had me restrained pressed his gun to my head. “Tell me who the fuck ordered that hit.” His dark eyes revealed the darkness that I knew lived inside him. I’d investigated this guy, and he was responsible for a lot of death and destruction.
“What do I get in return?” I asked. I still hadn’t figured out how the fuck to get out of this mess, and I desperately needed to keep him talking.
He scowled, and anger flashed in his eyes. Pressing the gun harder against my head, he spat, “If I don’t get that name, the women we paid a visit to today will not be so lucky next time.”
Motherfucker.
The guy had said the right thing to flip Nash’s switch, and he lunged at the guy who stood over him, punching him hard in the balls. I caught it out of the corner of my eye, and knew I had to also make a move because the guy with the gun to my head turned the gun and aimed it at Nash. If I didn’t do something, Nash would die.
As I lunged forward in the seat and wrapped my arms around his waist to try and push him over, a gun sounded, and blood sprayed everywhere.
Jesus.
Who the fuck had been hit?
It all happened so quickly that I struggled to get my bearings, until I heard J’s voice boom, “Fuck you, motherfucker.” And then another gun shot before J’s hand reached out to mine, and he pulled me up. “You okay, brother?” he asked, looking me over.
He’d taken out both guys for us, and I surveyed the bloody mess on the floor. Looking up at him, I said, “Thanks, man. I was beginning to wonder how the fuck we were gonna get out of that.”
His eyes held mine, and he said gruffly, “You would have done the same for me.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He nodded back at me, and then slapped me on the back. “I think we’ve got everyone now. The boys are just doing a final sweep to make sure.”
“How many were there?” Nash asked as he stood.
“We took out two other guys.”
We walked back the way we’d come in, meeting the others along the way. “The house is clear. We got everyone,” one of Blade’s guys informed us.
“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here,” J said, and we all moved as fast as we could back to the vans.
As we drove towards the clubhouse, I hoped like fuck that Scott and his team were successful. Who knew where it would all lead if they weren’t.
* * *
“Fuck, where’s Scott?” Nash asked as he paced the clubhouse bar.
We’d been back for an hour with no word from Scott or Blade who was with him. Nash had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes, and I was beginning to get worried. I would have thought they’d be back by now.
“Nash, can you give it a rest?” J snapped, clearly agitated by Nash’s pacing.
They glared at each other, but Nash eventually sat.
My phone rang, and we all zeroed in on it. I checked the caller ID and frowned when I saw who it was.
“Harlow. What’s up?” I said as I answered it.
“Are you with Scott, Griff? I’ve sent him some texts and tried to call him a few times today, and he hasn’t answered any of them. It’s unlike him, and I’m getting worried.”
Fuck.
That was unlike Scott. Even when he was busy with shit, he always made a point to at least reply to a text from Harlow.
“I’m not with him, but as soon as I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him. You good for now?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Griff,” she said as she hung up.
I turned to J and Nash. “We need to head over to where the delivery was taking place. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
They both nodded, and we rounded everyone up to come with us.
As we were about ready to pull out of the car park, a van screeched in, and pulled up at the front door to the clubhouse. Scott jumped out of the driver’s seat, and quickly slid the back door open. Blade exited from the back and the two of them then pulled Wilder out. His shirt was soaked in blood.
“Shit,” I muttered, and we left the van to follow them inside.
As we walked in, Scott’s eyes came to mine. He shoved his fingers through his hair, and said, “Doc’s on his way, but Wilder’s in a bad way, brother. Other than that, everything went to plan, and those assholes won’t bother us again.”
“How many were there?”
“Five.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, doing the maths.
He frowned. “What?”
“We’ve missed one.”
Scott took that in, and said, “It’s not what we would have preferred, but one guy on his own can’t do a great deal. We’ll deal with Wilder, and make sure he’s going to be okay, and then we’ll focus on finding that other guy. Yeah?”
He was right. “Yeah.”
Our doctor arrived and took care of Wilder while Blade pulled Scott and me aside. “I just had word. Bond is dead.”
“Thank fuck something is going our way today,” Scott muttered.
Blade eyed him. “I’ve seen men worse off than Wilder pull through. He’ll make it.”
“I hope so, because if he doesn’t, it’s on me,” Scott said, clearly angry with himself.
“Why?” I asked.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Blade said before Scott could answer.