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CHAPTER ONE

G arden City, Georgia

Fourteen months later…

Blade, the Devils’ Spawn prez, stood at the doorway to his office in his usual stern and imposing stance. Muscular arms folded, he waited for the brothers to answer his urgent summons to church. Judging by the frown carving a deep line on his forehead, he was running out of patience with the guys’ slow arrival and seemingly disinterested attitude.

As one of the last stragglers who filed in, Johnny Gun slid into the chair next to Barron’s.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he whispered.

“I’m not sure, though I suspect it has something to do with Deacon.”

Johnny Gun stiffened. “Deacon? As in the Dalton chapter prez?”

Leaning his elbows on his knees, Barron huffed. “The very same. He left a mess behind.”

Immediately, Johnny G’s guts twisted with concern. He wanted to ask his friend for specifics. Instead, he tightened his hands into fists. Barron didn’t care much for Deacon, and if his friend guessed Johnny G’s real motive was to learn news of Isolde, he’d never hear the end of it.

Months ago, Deacon and his daughter had stopped at Garden Hills to help Shifter set up the new computer system. The Johnston Agency, Blade’s brainchild to revamp the Devils’ Spawn’s reputation under the aegis of a full-service private security operation, was near completion. Shifter, the club’s computer genius, wanted another set of expert eyes to go over his work. Deacon was perfect for the job. Unfortunately, during said father/daughter visit, Barron noticed the sideway glances between Johnny G and Isolde, realized the truth of his friend’s feelings for the young woman, and went nuts on him.

Johnny Gun was in no mood for a repeat of that smackdown. He put aside his concern and turned his attention to Blade. The Spawn prez sat behind his desk, his hands folded together while he studied the faces before him.

“This is the deal. Just before the Johnston Agency went operational, we had a situation,” Blade said, addressing the group. “Deacon, the president of the Dalton chapter, arranged a meeting with Killer, a Steel Wolf lieutenant, to negotiate a parley with their president. Instead of showing up, Deacon snitched the location of the planned meeting to the feds.”

“Huge fuckup,” Turbo snarled. Little angry flames shot out of the road captain’s dark eyes. The DS tattoo on his right cheekbone shifted when he spoke. “Deacon lied to us. He gave us a bullshit song and dance about wanting to make peace with the Wolves.”

“That’s right.” Axel glanced at everyone, fidgeting with his almost-beard-length goatee. “We were right here when Barron pressed the issue on him. The guy insisted he’d moved on from Warden’s death.”

Blade waved a hand. “Good. I’m glad y’all remember. ”

“There’s a but in there,” Little Billy muttered, raking his fingers through his spiky hair.

Blade smirked. “Things went quiet for a while. I nearly thought we’d escaped trouble. Not so.” He glanced at Shifter. “Our tech genius, Shifter, has picked up chatter between MCs. The Wolves are scheming some nasty shit against the Devils’ Spawn Dalton chapter. Shifter, will you give everyone a full rundown?”

Shifter held up a hand. “First let me say, chatter can be erratic and unreliable. Do you follow?” No one spoke, though a couple of the guys nodded. “One of my ex-military friends rides with the Hell Knights. He turned me on to the communications between his MC and the Wolves. The target mentioned the most seems to be Deacon’s daughter, Isolde.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Johnny G shouted, jumping to his feet.

“Shut up, dude,” Barron hissed as he pulled him by the arm. “Settle the fuck down.”

Shifter narrowed his green gaze in his direction. To his left, Johnny G could feel Blade’s knowing stare boring a hole in him.

“Speak up, Johnny Gun. You’re not shy. What’s on your mind?” Blade asked.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead.” He lowered his head.

“But did you hear any chatter about Deacon or just his daughter?” Blade asked Shifter, though his attention remained on him.

“There’s quite a bit of back and forth about Deacon,” Shifter said, flipping his reading glasses up and down. “Not as much as with the daughter. My belief is, the Wolves’ idea to kidnap the daughter will make the father suffer. It’s an effective form of payback. Wouldn’t surprise me if their cartel associates wanted her as well. Isolde is a gorgeous young woman. She’d garner a generous sum for them in the slave market.”

Johnny jammed his forehead against his fists. He couldn’t handle this conversation anymore. Shifter talked about Isolde as if she were nothing but cattle. A pretty figurine without a heart or a mind, an item to be sold, bought, used as sex slave, and tossed out when they got tired of her.

“Listen up.” Blade spoke in a soft voice. The entire room went silent. “It’s not written anywhere in our bylaws—and going forward, we should put this provision up for a vote—but since the Garden Hills Devils’ Spawn is the founding MC, don’t we have an obligation to assist and support our brethren in need? Granted, Deacon fucked up, but do we ignore the situation?”

“It ain’t fair to us.” Axel massaged the back of his neck with a thoughtful expression. “Deacon made the mess. He should clean it up. But an innocent civilian and our brothers are involved. Does he have the resources to protect everyone? If we leave the Dalton MC to fend for themselves, it sends a bad message. Tells the Wolves we’re not united. Sure as shit, they’ll head south.”

“Excellent point, my brother.” Little Billy pumped a fist in agreement. “The Wolves are hungry for our turf. We show any weakness, it’s open season on the Devils’ Spawn. I won’t allow those assholes to take over.”

“Or Los fucking Emes,” Barron grumbled. “This problem is way beyond an MC war. The cartel gets a foothold in Savannah and nearby neighborhoods, and I guarantee you the area will go down the tubes within weeks. We have families here, people we love. Los Emes have no scruples or limits. The level of violence they’ll bring could make the Mafia blush. We have to defeat the Wolves now. Before they gain traction.”

The solution to the threat seemed simple enough to Johnny. He opened his mouth to speak, but Little Billy jumped in. “It’s clear. We help them.”

“What do you suggest?” Blade’s bland smile spoke volumes. He’d nudged just enough, and Little Billy had jumped in the direction he wanted his Spawn brothers to go .

“We send a contingent to reinforce their numbers,” Little Billy replied.

“Sounds like a plan. But I can’t force anyone to go,” Blade said smoothly.

Johnny couldn’t stay silent anymore. “We ask for volunteers. Count on me.”

Blade sat back, glancing around the room. “Thank you, Johnny G. I had a feeling you’d volunteer first.”

“Are you nuts?” Barron grumbled at him. “You’re going to put yourself in harm’s way for that asshole Deacon?”

“Listen to me,” Johnny hissed. “You didn’t get it when I explained, and you’re still not understanding how I feel. I couldn’t give two shits about Deacon. This is about Isolde. She’s in danger. They want to kidnap her, and knowing how cartels operate, they’ll probably sell her. I’m not letting that happen.”

“But—”

“You won’t change my mind, dude. I’m going. They’ll have to get through me first before they touch her.”

“Anyone else?” Blade asked the group.

“Me. I wanna go. I could use the action.” Tank spoke from his corner. “Lack of activity is doing a number on my muscle tone.”

All eyes went to Tank. As the name implied, the recently patched member stood at six feet five inches tall, with a massive physique that rivaled the largest WWE Smackdown star.

“Hell, Tank.” Blade chuckled. “Had I known of your requirements, I would’ve come up with a muscle-building project. As it is, I have something else in mind.”

Tank frowned. “Are you saying I can’t go?”

“Absolutely not,” Blade said. “The Dalton guys will be relieved to see you. But since you’re volunteering, I’ll save the project for your return. That’s all.”

“Good.” Tank nodded. “Works for me. ”

Pilot, their current prospect, stepped out of his spot in the corner. “I’d like to help out. Is that allowed?”

Blade turned to his vice president. Breaker had been quiet throughout the meeting. “What do you say, Breaker?”

Breaker waited a moment before answering. “That’ll work.” Nodding, he ran a hand over his bald head. “There’s nothing in the rules to stop him. Plus, he’s going with experienced brothers. It’s a good way for Pilot to show his loyalty to the MC and hone his talents. Fast track to getting patched.”

“That’s settled. You’re going,” Blade said.

“You need two more,” Axel said. “I’m volunteering Max to come with me. He hasn’t said it, but I know he wants to go.”

Max’s sharp brown eyes crinkled with amusement. “My bud here can’t wipe his ass without my help.”

“What the fuck, man,” Axel growled. “If memory serves, Kyle and I showed you how.”

“Enough, you two,” Blade thundered. “Don’t get started. This is serious business. Defending the Dalton chapter ain’t going to be easy.” He glared from Axel to Max. “Axel, keep your mouth shut. Max, I need a verbal response. Of your own free will, do you volunteer?”

“Yes, Blade,” Max said. “I’ll go. Sorry, we were just horsing around.”

“Save it.” Blade waved a dismissive hand. “That’s five guys. I’d prefer to send up six. A nice even number. Once that’s squared away, you’ll ride north to offer your services to Deacon. Bring all your hardware and extra ammo if you have it. Be aware you’re in his territory and he has full authority, not me. Unless a dire emergency requiring my intervention comes up, don’t call me. Understood?”

“I’ll make the sixth,” Barron said, lifting his hand.

“Not this time, dude.” Blade shook his head. “You’re one of my fiercest fighters. Makes sense you want to support your bud, but I’m asking you to sit this one out down here.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “You’re a newlywed, and your house is under construction. Your head’s not gonna be in the game. Deacon needs everyone’s concentration. And, on a selfish note, I don’t want this clubhouse’s defenses stripped.”

“You’re the boss,” Barron said.

“I am. In this situation, I hope you trust my decision.”

Barron glanced at Johnny Gun and shrugged with half a smile. Johnny G hit him playfully on the shoulder. “I knew you’d offer. It’s okay, we’ll be fine.”

“Blade knows what he’s talking about.” Barron lowered his voice. “And he’s right. I’d be thinking constantly about Yoanni. What she needs, is everything okay with the house, her work… blah, blah, blah. Besides, she’d kill me if I left her alone to deal with the construction.”

“Marriage,” Axel scoffed. “Barron came back with his head in the clouds, seeing hearts and flowers everywhere. Not my kind of jam, guys. I don’t have time for that shit. I’m never getting married.”

“You watch,” Johnny Gun murmured to Barron. “This fool is gonna fall so hard, he won’t know what hit him.”

“He already did.”

The soft-spoken comment came from behind Johnny Gun.

“Huh?” He glanced over his shoulder. Bullet, Max’s younger brother, usually a reserved guy who rarely expressed his views to the group, nodded. He played with his black mustache, a steady expression on his face.

“It’s ancient history. I remember her. She was gorgeous and very sweet. The situation was bad all around. Axel knew her heart belonged to someone else, but fell anyway. When she left, only a few of us saw his pain. If you catch him with a few beers in him, he might tell you. I wouldn’t push him, though.” Bullet shrugged. “ Believe it or not, the wound hasn’t healed. He gets pretty violent.”

Eyes wide, Johnny Gun spoke to Barron. “Did you ever meet this chick?”

“No, man.” Barron shook his head. “This is news to me. When I switched chapters from the Keys to Garden Hills, the only gorgeous woman I met was Yoanni. She is definitely mine.”

“Like I said.” Bullet stood. “Ancient history. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to talk to Blade and take the sixth slot. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on those two fools.” He jutted his chin at his brother and Axel. “I’ll see ya.”

Johnny G followed the soft-spoken man with the long black ponytail through the room and stopped at Blade’s desk. Leaner and taller than his brother, Bullet was one of the originals. Max had brought him to prospect the Spawn right after the big rift between Warden and Rover. Bullet was low-key and observant. He blended into a crowd. He was easily missed by less perceptive individuals, and that gave him an advantage. Johnny G wondered how many stories and secrets the guy knew about the brothers in the club.

“We’re done here.” Blade spoke to the group. “Bullet brought the number to six. That makes me feel much better. Those of you riding north, pack up your gear and remember to take all the extra ammo you can carry. One thing less to worry about up there. Axel, you’re the senior member. You’ll be in charge of our guys. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

The room emptied slowly. Lost in worried thoughts of seeing Isolde again, Johnny G didn’t move from his seat. He was a live wire inside.

“Why don’t you have dinner with us?” Barron asked. “You’ll be gone awhile. Could be weeks before you have a decent meal again. ”

Johnny G dropped his elbows on his knees, then turned to his friend. “That would be nice. What time?”

“Seven.”

“Great.” He nodded, then stood. “See you then.”

“Where are you going now?”

To the first bar I find to let off some steam , he wanted to blurt. But if he did, Barron would offer to come with. Right now, Johnny G needed to drink alone among strangers.

“For a ride,” he answered with a casual shrug. “It’s a nice day.”

“Is it?” Barron squinted at the window. “Looks kinda cloudy to me.”

“So?”

Narrowing his eyes, Barron stared at him in silence. Finally, he held up his hands. “All right, be careful out there.”

Yeah, always intuitive, his friend had read Johnny G’s desire for space. Tapping his forehead, he smiled and left the room.

Johnny Gun sped north on Main Street. He rode past the large warehouse complex, heading for the dive bar he’d noticed some time ago. The Nook pub catered to the warehouse and port workers. The kind of rough and tough crowd who put bikers at the bottom of the social ladder. He was about to enter the place, alone and wearing his Devils’ Spawn cut, advertising to everyone inside his MC allegiance.

Perfect.

He pushed in the swinging door and scanned the room. It was early and the bar wasn’t crowded yet. Still, all heads turned his way, and the pub went deadly silent. The sound of his heavy steel-toed boots landing on floorboards with each step resonated throughout the space. The bartender, hands on the counter, glared as he approached .

“Are you lost?” the man grated. “This ain’t your crowd, and I don’t want any trouble, ya hear?”

“I heard you.” With a slow, determined gesture, he pushed the stool in front of him to the side, then slid a twenty onto the counter. If this visit worked out the way he wanted, he wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for very long.

Behind him, the murmur of conversations resumed.

“I came for a beer. Anything on tap will do.”

Nostrils flaring, the bartender grunted in agreement. He lifted a filthy beer mug in desperate need of another run in the dishwasher and tilted it under the tap to fill. One thing could be said about this bartender, hostile or not, the guy was a patient pourer. Johnny G guessed he’d learned his craft in a military deployment in Germanyif the tattoo with the doubled-headed eagle underneath the name Ramstein on his biceps was an accurate indication.

The bartender delivered the full mug, gave him his change without any comment, and walked away to another customer.

Johnny G took a large gulp and smacked his lips in appreciation. Bitter, sharp, and ice cold, the hoppy brew slid down his throat and cooled the burn in his chest. Once it hit his stomach, a pleasant sensation spread throughout the rest of his system. He exhaled with relief as tension left his body, then took another swig. Calmer now, and with none of his brothers watching his every expression, he released the thoughts he’d strapped down during the church meeting.

The deadly threat to Isolde had torn his resolution to keep his distance and allow her to move on with her life to pieces. He wished so much happiness for her: a deserving man; someone younger, with fresh ideas and a hopeful perspective in life. A guy Deacon would love for his precious daughter. And precious she was.

But now all bets were off. He couldn’t stay in Garden City knowing Los Emes and the Steel Wolves’ intentions. The big issue was to figure out how to protect her and still keep his distance. His initial reaction when he’d heard Shifter talk was to jump on his bike, ride north, and snatch her out of the Dalton clubhouse. Take her deep into the wilderness of the Cohutta Mountains or farther north to Tennessee. Not a bad strategy. When he got to Dalton, the first item on his agenda was to search for vacation rentals in the mountains.

Maybe he could ask some of the guys up there for suggestions.

No, not the guys. No one could know. He had to find a good hideout place without divulging the location to any of his brothers.

And Barron?

He’d tell him. His friend was the only man he truly trusted.

Johnny rubbed his face, making a mental outline…

“Hey, Bubba!” the bartender said.

Voices behind him followed the greeting.

“Dude, it’s about time you showed up.”

The new arrival was a popular member of this watering hole. Johnny didn’t turn around to see; this Bubba guy didn’t interest him one bit. Before long, Bubba made his way to the bar. Standing several feet away from Johnny Gun, he slapped the counter.

“Hey, Mac.”

Johnny studied the situation from under lowered eyelids.

The bartender stopped talking to the customer sitting on the corner stool and smiled at Bubba.

“Dude. The usual?” he asked.

“Bourbon rocks and make it a double, will ya?” Bubba replied. “My fucking boss was on my ass all day.”

“You got it.” Without delay, Mac slammed a bottle of a cheap brand of bourbon and a glass with ice onto the bar. Obviously, he was prepared for Bubba’s arrival.

Johnny glanced sideways. Bubba was a big guy, with massive arms and shoulders and a belly to match. The image of a skinny boss thrusting his dick into this guy’s ass seemed humorous to him. Covering his mouth with his hand, he snickered to himself.

He didn’t snicker low enough.

Growling, Bubba jumped the short distance between them. His meaty paw gripped Johnny G’s shoulder. “Do you have a death wish, motherfucker?” Spittle hit Johnny G’s cheek. “We don’t want your kind here.”

“Forget him, Bubba.” Mac gave Johnny G a warning stare, then eyed his friend. “He ain’t worth the trouble. Come on, relax. Have your drink.” He filled Bubba’s glass and pushed it toward the man.

Muttering sounds no one could understand, the big guy released Johnny Gun’s shoulder and turned his attention to his glass. Unfortunately, Bubba had opened the door Johnny Gun had waited for, and he walked right through.

“No,” Johnny G said.

Bubba slapped his glass down. “Excuse me?”

“Easy, guys,” Mac urged nervously.

“You asked, and I answered.” Speaking in a slow and condescending tone, Johnny G leaned his elbow on the counter to face Bubba. On closer inspection, the dude was mostly blubber, with a big mouth and a nasty attitude.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Bubba snapped.

“Nah-uh. Not crazy. I simply said no. Meaning, I don’t have a death wish.” He waited for his words to sink in. “My question is, do you?”

Bubba was quick. Johnny G’s reflexes were faster. He tilted his head, but the bottom of the rocks glass caught him with a glancing blow to the temple. Bourbon sloshed out, soaking Johnny G’s face and cut. Bubba chuckled, full of himself.

The contained beast in Johnny G shrieked with glee. He threw the double hit, straight fingertips to the larynx, knuckles to the solar plexus. Eyes wide and gasping for air, Bubba bent forward. Someone grabbed Johnny G’s hair from behind, and his head snapped back. Singeing pain invaded his brain. Enjoying the burn, he swiveled, leading with his bent elbow. With a satisfying crunch, his joint connected with the man’s nose.

Howling, the guy covered his face. “You broke my fucking nose.”

The swivel had exposed his right flank, and a hard fist punched Johnny’s jaw. The blow dizzied him. Another struck him from the left. He blinked furiously, forcing his brain to focus and his sight to clear up. His pent-up anger came to his aid. Extending his lowered arms, he swung out with fisted hands. He found the testicles of his two attackers, forcing them to retreat.

“Enough!” Mac thundered. He slammed the countertop with a cue stick. The sharp clack stopped the fight. “Take your fucking money and get out of my bar. Now!”

“All right, all right,” Johnny G exclaimed, rubbing the tender spot on his jaw. “I’m leaving. But I didn’t start it.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Mac said. “Motherfucking biker. Out!”

As Johnny G walked to the door, he smiled to himself. The fight hadn’t been as intense as he’d wanted and needed, but it had done the trick. He’d let off enough steam to lower his pressure gauge out of the red zone to green. The hacking sounds of the humbled Bubba, still struggling to breathe, followed him to the door. Music to his ears.