The Skulls(43)

Tate didn’t answer the phone, and Angel tried her number again.

“I’m pleased you’ve told me. It must be hard having a family and not seeing them.”

“It can be,” Blaine said, agreeing.

“Do Emily and Darcy live in town?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can’t do anything about it. She’s got full custody and is an amazing mother.”

Angel smiled. When she couldn’t get Tate a third time she left it alone, figuring her friend was too busy to answer the phone.

The rest of the drive was peaceful. Blaine talked about his little girl and how advanced she was. Several times Angel rested her hand against her stomach wondering if she was pregnant. Lash never wore a condom with her. She probably should make him and get tested or something, but she trusted him.

Shaking her head, they pulled into the driveway of Tate’s home. She saw Steven’s bike and was thankful Blaine would have someone to talk to.

They walked around back. Tate had told her to always walk around the back. She let herself in the back door. The kitchen was silent.

“Tate, honey, we’re here. I finally talked Lash into letting me come.” They rounded a corner, and Angel froze.

Steven was on the ground, a pool of blood around him. Tate was stood with her arms out in surrender. Tears were spilling from her cheeks as she looked at the man in front of her. Angel didn’t recognise him, but she saw Murphy at the back of the group.

Blaine tried to pull her out of the way. He was pulling a gun out of his pocket. It was too late.

Two shots were fired, and Angel felt his grip loosen. He fell to the floor at her feet. Tate screamed, and Eva was jerked. Angel stared at the man at her feet. She’d been getting to know him. He was a father and turning his life around.

Going to her knees she stared at his chest and stomach. Blood was oozing out of holes. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“No, this can’t be happening.” She pressed her hands to the wound trying to stem the blood flow.

“Please,” he said, coughing.

Someone grabbed her arm tugging at her.

“Leave me alone!” She screamed, pulling away and going to Blaine.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. No, it was so unfair. He was making his life better. The club would fix him, and he’d get his happily ever after.

“Don’t be sorry. This is not your fault.” She applied more pressure to the wounds and cried as she felt the blood pooling out of the wound.

He reached in his pocket. “Tell … Emily … I’m sorry … I … was trying.”

“Don’t talk, Blaine. You’re going to see her.”

His eyes closed, and Angel didn’t have time to check before she was pulled roughly to her feet.

“Get the fuck away from him. He’s dead, bitch.”

Angel didn’t feel the pain from being pulled. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Blaine or from Steven. They were both Prospects, and yet they were dead at her feet like they were nothing. She’d gotten to know them both, and now they were dead.

Shoved against Tate, Angel stared at the men before her. She saw the Lion emblem, and instant hate consumed her.

“Why didn’t you take the hint when I didn’t answer the phone?” Tate asked, crying.

“I thought you were in the shower or something.” She was numb. There were no other words to describe what she was feeling.

“I wish I was.”

“Call your fucking father, bitch. Let him know that we’ve got this town, and his crew better stand in line or we’ll fucking kill you.”

Tate was handed a phone. Angel saw the other woman hesitate. She glanced at the back of the crew and saw Murphy staring at Tate. What she saw next terrified her. Her father was stood next to Murphy. His face was hard as if a mask had come over him. He glared at her but didn’t say a word. Hatred filled her at the sight. Her own father was the one responsible for all this mess. He was betraying The Skulls, and she wished he didn’t make it through this day. The bastard deserved to rot for what had just happened to Blaine.

“Make the call, Tate,” Angel said.

Her hands were shaking as she squeezed her friend’s hand. Glancing down she saw her hands were covered with red. Rubbing them down the skirt she wore, she tried to wipe Blaine’s blood of her hands. How could he be dead? He was getting his life together.

Shaking her head, she listened to Tate as she said hello to her father.

The phone was loud enough for her to hear the conversation.

“Hello, Tate, honey, what’s the matter?” Tiny asked.

“Dad, you need to come home. The … the Lions are here, and Steven’s down. Blaine’s down as well.”