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.
“Yeah, it was. I lost concentration for a second, and that was all they needed to shoot him,” Scott said.
“I’m not with you on that, brother,” Blade said.
“I agree. You can never predict how this shit will go down,” I said.
Scott scowled and began pacing while we waited.
“Harlow rang. She’s been trying to reach you,” I told him, and he nodded.
Pulling out his phone, he headed outside to call her back.
Eyeing Blade, I said, “He won’t let go of the blame if Wilder doesn’t pull through.”
Blade nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
We sat in silence in the bar as we waited for the doctor. Scott joined us at some point, but I hardly noticed. A tense cloud hung over the clubhouse, and I felt responsible for it.
If it hadn’t been for me, none of this would be happening.
28
Griff
The doctor was with Wilder for a long time. When he finally stepped out to talk with us, I couldn’t read his face.
“He was in a bad way,” he said, his voice holding no trace of positive news, and my gut twisted with fear.