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PROLOGUE

D alton, North Georgia

Johnny Gun leaned on the foot peg hard, balancing against the tight curve. A rush of adrenaline pumped furiously into his system. The danger had put his senses on full alert. He was taking the curve faster than he should, and one brief miscalculation or unexpected surface debris, and he’d spill all over the pavement. He emerged to the straightaway on the solitary road and slowed; otherwise, he’d fly past his destination. As he continued at an easier pace, patches of a white house peeked between thickets of pine trees. He squinted forward. About a quarter of a mile ahead, a numbered sign stood on the left side of the road.

After turning into the entry, he slowly rolled downhill on a gravelly winding path, coasted past a long greenish pond, then sped up the rise to reach the house. This had to be the destination he sought. A number of bikes parked in front were pretty good indicators he’d arrived at the Devils’ Spawn Dalton chapter clubhouse. He dismounted, glanced at his watch, and mentally congratulated himself. It was twelve thirty. Traffic north had been fairly light, and he’d made it here in just about five hours, which gave him a two-hour window before he had to head home or stay overnight—an option he preferred to avoid.

The idea of riding alone didn’t sit well with most of his brothers, mainly for long distances, but it didn’t bother him one bit. He enjoyed the solitude and the sensation of belonging to the road without having to share it with anyone else.

If the Dalton prez read and signed the documents he’d brought from the Garden City’s Spawn prez without delay, Johnny G could conceivably be back on the road by two. In late June, he’d have the sun almost all the way home.

He pulled out the document bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked toward the door. He lifted a hand to knock and stopped. Despite the beautiful and serene surroundings, the vibes this place emitted were off. He could almost taste anger and tension. The air reeked of both.

What kind of chickenshit bullshit behavior is this? He berated himself mentally. When had he turned into a touchy-feely snowflake? He was here on a mission from Blade. His prez trusted him, and he’d accomplish his job.

Pulling his mental gonads to the forefront where they belonged, he banged on the door with the heel of his hand.

A frowning dude wearing a red bandanna tied around his forehead opened the door. “We ain’t buying.” He moved to close the door on Johnny G’s face, but he shoved his boot in. “And I ain’t selling shit,” he growled.

“Hey!” the guy protested.

Behind him, angry voices called out. Before the situation went south and the rest of the guys got involved, Johnny G spoke quickly .

“Dude. I’m Johnny Gun, a Spawn brother. I just rode up from Garden City. I brought MC documents Deacon has to sign.”

Still blocking the door, the red-bandanna guy spoke to someone inside the room. “This guy says his name is Johnny Gun from Garden City. That sound right to you?”

A loud chorus replied to the question at once.

“They tell me you’re legit.” The guy opened the door. “Sorry, man, but these days, we can’t be too careful, and I’ve never seen you before.”

Johnny G gave him and thorough up-and-down scan. “Might help if you learned the names of your fellow MC brothers. I could’ve been Blade himself. Would you have closed the door on him?”

“Said I was sorry.” The guy extended a hand. “I’m Jax. Are we cool?”

“We’re cool.” Johnny shook Jax’s hand and walked into the clubhouse. Four brothers seated around a table were engaged in a heavy-duty game of poker. By the looks of the half-eaten bags of potato chips, crumbs everywhere, empty beer bottles, and piled up soiled paper plates, they’d been at it for hours.

The guy sitting at the head of the table had a blond horseshoe mustache, which sort of matched his shoulder-length braids. He strategically placed his cards face down and close to the edge of the table for easy pickup. Privately, Johnny G approved of the move.

“I’m Gomez,” the guy said. “It’s a long ride from the mother ship. I know you didn’t come up for the scenery. What’s up?”

Damn, the overall attitude was pissing Johnny G off.

“Blade sent me. I need to talk to Deacon right away so I can be on my way back.”

“Wait. You intend to ride back today? That’s fucked. Ain’t you tired?”

“I’m fine. Where’s Deacon?”

“That way.” Gomez pointed to a passageway. “Go down the hall. Knock on the first door to your left. If no one answers, go to the right. That’s where he lives.”

“Much obliged.” Johnny G tapped his forehead and walked into a dark corridor. A faint sliver of light appeared on his right, but it wasn’t strong enough to illuminate his way. In his rush, he plowed forward and ran straight into a much smaller person.

“Oh.” The startled gasp came from a woman he’d nearly tackled. His reaction was quick. Reaching out, he grasped her arm to keep her standing.

Feeling like an idiot, he mumbled an apology, then glanced down.

And his life changed forever…

The woman, no, an earthly angel, trained sparkling emerald eyes on him, and Johnny Gun’s mind went blank. Not a thought or a word popped into the old gray matter. His chest hurt as if a huge hand squeezed his heart without mercy. Pain and elation combined into the craziest rush he’d ever experienced, and it spread all over him at once.

Caught in a fast-spinning whirl of emotions, he forgot where he was and why. The document bag fell from his fingers. Papers spilled in all directions.

Quickly, he dropped to his knee to pick up the mess he’d made. The heat of embarrassment, no point in denying what it was, burned his face. His distress was compounded when the glorious creature also bent to help him gather the documents. As she moved, he was caught off-guard. Her soft fragrance struck his senses with the force of a runaway eighteen-wheeler.

“Gosh, let me help you.”

Oh, hell. That couldn’t be her real voice. It was so light and musical, he was reminded of Christmas bells…

“Please, don’t bother,” he said, shoving the documents into the bag any way he could. “It’s really my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so sorry I ran into you. It was dark, and I didn’t see a thing. Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all.” She handed him several papers. “I’ve told Dad to put another light in this hallway. You’re not the first person who’s stumbled in the dark.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He finished stuffing the documents in the bag.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Startled at the angry voice, Johnny Gun gawked at the newcomer.

This guy, standing with legs apart and fists leaning on his hips, took up almost the entire width of the hallway. Something about the salt-and-pepper hair and fierce attitude informed him this was the famous Deacon he’d rode up five hours to see, and the father that the angel smiling at him had mentioned moments ago.

“Get up, Isolde,” the man growled

Isolde? Unusual name…

“Hi, Dad.” She stretched her hand up to her father. For a nanosecond, Johnny G considered helping her stand, but the older man’s forbidding expression stopped him in his tracks.

“We crashed into each other,” she explained, rising to her feet. “I told you the hallway needs another light. He dropped his documents, and I was helping him.”

Now the guy glared at him. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

As he finished sliding the last sheet of paper into the bag, Johnny used this short pause to put his thoughts together. “I’m Johnny Gun,” he replied. “I’m a member of the Garden City Devils’ Spawn. I brought documents Blade wants you to read and sign. I’m assuming you’re Deacon. ”

“Yeah, that’s me.” The guy narrowed his eyes. “Documents? What sort of documents?”

Johnny G had the strangest urge to stand at attention and salute. This dude must have been a drill instructor in the service. A powerful military vibe still clung to him.

“I’m not privy to the contents,” Johnny said . “ I only know it’s MC business. Blade sent me because he trusts my discretion.”

“Follow me.” Deacon moved toward the door Johnny G had passed earlier. He unlocked it with a key from a heavily loaded keychain and pushed it in. “Go inside and wait. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Everything in Johnny G’s soul rebelled at the idea of leaving Isolde behind with such an irascible man. He sent a quick glance at the angel in the hallway. As if she’d heard his thoughts, Isolde gave him a reassuring smile, and he relaxed. She’d lived with the man for years and clearly knew how to pacify the beast. Accepting the situation as it was, he entered Deacon’s office, put the bag on the desk, and sat.

Several minutes went by. He could hear Isolde and her father talking outside. The conversation moved quickly, but he couldn’t make out the words. On the upside, their tone sounded normal, which encouraged him to stay put in his chair instead of tiptoeing to the door to listen in and maybe intervene should things get heated. If he had, he would’ve been caught in the act. The door opened abruptly.

“What’s the deal with these documents?” Deacon went directly to his chair and sat. “They must be important if Blade sent you.”

Johnny Gun had nothing to say. He pushed the bag forward. “It’s all in there. Check it yourself.”

After pulling out the papers, Deacon perused them one by one. He didn’t speak and neither did Johnny. Deacon started signing, and Johnny G glanced at his watch. Thus far, meeting the Dalton president and running into his beautiful daughter had used up thirty minutes. His departure window was still open.

What about Isolde?

“You had a long ride. Would you like to take a break and spend the night?”

Man, the timing of Deacon’s question was really freaky. He swallowed without answering.

“You can leave first thing in the morning. After you’re rested,” Deacon continued, offering what could pass for a smile.

Well, what do you know? Once upon a time, the grouch in front of him knew how to be pleasant. Not anymore. Was it related to the uncomfortable vibes in this place? Did Johnny G want to spend the night just to figure out what the hell was going on in this clubhouse?

No fucking way.

What about Isolde?

The thought insisted.

The truth?

She’d enchanted him in the moment, and he’d fallen headfirst. Whatever was left of his sense of self-preservation told him to run home tonight without looking back. The safest course was to keep matters as they were: don’t go poking around, don’t test, don’t taste, and don’t touch. Don’t complicate life. Let it be. Pretend this chance meeting never happened.

Should be easy for her.

As for him…he was lost already. In a matter of seconds, Isolde had permanently ensconced herself in his heart.

“I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to go home.”

“Suit yourself.” Deacon continued signing. He put his pen down when he finished, gathered the sheets, and slid the small stack inside the bag. “Would you like a beer… Well, maybe not a beer, but something else to drink?” He folded his hands; sharp blue eyes peered Johnny’s way .

“If you have it, a water’s great.”

Leaving his desk, Deacon moved to a small refrigerator tucked under a set of shelves. He pulled out two bottles and brought them over. Johnny Gun stood quickly, put the bag strap over his shoulder, and accepted the man’s offer.

“Thanks. I’ll take one for the road. I’ll see myself out.”

“Send my regards to Blade.” Deacon returned to his seat. “Ride carefully. You should have daylight all the way home.”

“I’m counting on it.” He bowed lightly.

With his heart in his throat, he exited to the hallway and closed the office door, hoping he wouldn’t run into Isolde. Because if he did, he’d change his mind to stay the night, and neither one of them could afford such an awful decision.

The hallway was empty, and so was the living room. The poker game must have ended while he was in Deacon’s office. Johnny Gun stood a moment to down the first water in a couple of gulps. Crunching the plastic, he searched for a trash or a recycling bin and found nothing. The brothers in this clubhouse didn’t seem to care about neatness or much else. Their nasty attitude went well with the odd vibes. He left the crushed bottle on the gaming table with the rest of the trash, then walked out to the front yard. The only parked bike was his. The guys had left.

Opening his bike’s side compartment, he put the bag inside, then wedged the bottle of water into the clamped holder. He straddled the bike, hit the kickstand…

“Johnny.”

Oh, fuck.

Her musical voice pinned him in place.

There goes my quick escape.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced to his right. Isolde waved from the rear corner of the house. She must have snuck out the back of the clubhouse.

Unable to speak, he just sat there, enthralled and paralyzed. His mind reeled as he searched for a harsh or curt remark. Anything abrupt enough to make her think twice about him and send her running back into the clubhouse. To scare her far, far away from him.

Somehow, she must have misunderstood his silence for acceptance, because she quickly came to his side.

Daylight was his enemy. How could someone wearing a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt look so stunning?

Isolde was a dream.

His dream.

In all his life, he’d never seen skin so flawless or eyes this pure shade of green. Hers sparkled like unblemished emeralds. Isolde’s long hair gleamed in shades of mahogany from the deepest dark to a lighter brown and waved lightly with the breeze. Her curves were soft and feminine, the kind a man would love to hold between his hands, and she was…

Young!

A child!

Johnny Gun panicked. Dear God above, she was a girl. How old? Sixteen? Seventeen?

Red-hot anger rose inside him. If his attraction was problematic before, it was sinful now. He wasn’t a pervert or a child molester.

“Hi, Johnny. My name’s Isolde.”

Naive and unaware of the devastating effect she had on him, her enchantment wrapped around Johnny G with the unbreakable hold of silk. He grew so desperate, he barked the first words that came to him,

“How old are you?”

Wide-eyed, she reared back at the sharpness in his tone. “Um, nineteen, almost twenty. Why?”

He blew out a breath, feeling slightly better. This was past statutory rape, but she was still much too young, especially for a hardened ass like him. He’d already crossed the thirty-year mark.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Her adorable eyebrows tightened, and he wanted to kick himself for upsetting her. He just didn’t know the best way to behave with her, or worse, with the passing of years, he’d forgotten how. Isolde was sweet and open. She hadn’t learned to deceive, hide her emotions, and play games. The women Johnny slept with had earned their stripes living a hard life and desired no complications. They came to him, got what they wanted, and left without leaving a trace. A perfect arrangement.

The best thing he could do for Isolde was to be a total dickhead and erase the glimmer of interest in her eyes, but how did he handle this balancing act without hurting her feelings?

In the end, he managed to smile and sound like an idiot at the same time.

“No…you didn’t. I, uh…just asked.”

“My dad said you could stay. Why don’t you spend the night?”

If only…

I can’t, beautiful Isolde. Because if I do, I’ll take you in my arms and make love to you until we both lose our minds…

Instead of revealing his emotions and the ferocious need in his heart, he shook his head. “I like my home and my own bed. I’m ready to go back.”

Her luscious, full lips pouted. “Why do I have this feeling that I’ll never see you again? Makes me sad. Is that a bad thing?”

Bad?

Not Isolde.

Never her.

She could do no wrong.

The urge to soothe her nearly defeated his determination to leave. In a last attempt, he gave an indifferent shrug.

“No need to be sad. Who knows. Your dad is a Devils’ Spawn. There’s always a chance we’ll run into each other again.” Abruptly, he turned on the bike. The engine roared as he twisted the throttle.

Isolde blushed. Finally, his message had reached its destination. Conversation over. I’m going home. She stepped back, giving him all the space he wanted to maneuver out and escape her influence.

But the ache in his throat didn’t stop. His legs and arms still quivered. The truth was simple and agonizing: he’d found the love of his life in Isolde, but he was out of time. It was too late for someone like him and the age gap between them was impossible to bridge. Besides, what could he offer this angel except a much older man, tired and jaded? For her sake, he’d do the honorable thing and remove himself from her existence.

Giving a quick nod, he rode out to the highway without a backward glance.