Page 38 of Barron

“Actually, we are in a hurry, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to join him,” Barron said quickly, hoping to divert the attention from his friend. “We’ve been working day and night to get this agency ready to roll. Can’t wait to get everything straightened out. Nice meeting you again.”

Barron went after Johnny Gun. This was bad. His friend wasn’t the type to get flustered. As he left the computer room, he overheard Deacon speaking. “Isolde, honey, didn’t you bring your tablet? No? Play on your phone while I work with Shifter.”

“Sure, Daddy.”

Play on her phone?The father-and-daughter exchange took less than one minute. It was enough for Barron to read the situation clearly. Paternal possessiveness had blinded Steven Lennox, a.k.a. Deacon. In his mind, Isolde was still a little girl. And in a strange way, she was. Barron had noticed the difference. Isoldewas an adult Little, maybe a Middle. This father had no idea what was happening under his nose, and Isolde played a good game. If and when the truth came out, the explosion could be nasty. Barron didn’t want his friend hurt in the blast. Shaking his head, he walked into the next room.

“Don’t you dare hide shit from me, dude,” he thundered at Johnny Gun.

“What?” Johnny Gun stopped pushing a cabinet to the wall.

“No.” Frowning, Barron lifted a finger. “I thought I was your best bud. Why the fuck don’t I know about Isolde?”

“Hush, man.” Johnny Gun hurried to close the door. “You wanna get her in trouble? There’s nothing to tell.”

“Really? We both know that’s pure bullshit.” He sat on a crate half full of file folders. “I mean, what are you thinking? How old are you now, thirty-one, thirty-two?”

Johnny Gun blew out a breath. “I’ll be thirty-three in September.”

“Exactly, and she’s…what…twenty-one, twenty-two?”

“Twenty-one,” Johnny G replied.

“Christ.” Barron wiped his forehead. “That Deacon dude is a beast of a man. You’re twelve years older than his precious little girl. He’ll tear you to pieces if he finds out you’re sniffing after her.”

“Eleven and a few months.”

“Eleven and a what?”

“She’ll be twenty-two soon. We’ll be eleven years and a few months apart.”

“Good Lord above,” Barron muttered. “Do you think the tiny distinction is going to make a fucking difference when Deacon is wringing your neck?”

Silently, Johnny G shook his head.

“Don’t you have any survival instincts, man? When? How did this disaster happen?”

“For the last time, nothing’s happened.”

“All right. Not yet,” Barron argued. “I watched the girl out there. She wants you, my man. And if she’s anything like her daddy, you ain’t escaping her. So, tell me.”

Johnny Gun dragged a full crate across from Barron to sit. “This happened a while ago. Last June, I’m pretty sure.” He rubbed his whiskered jaw. “You were on a mission Weaver sent you on, and Blade needed to send physical documents to Dalton. You know how Blade feels about regular mail.” He shrugged. “He asked the guys, and I volunteered. I should’ve hired a fucking courier service.”

“Go on.”

“Nothing. I walked into the Dalton clubhouse with my bag, asking for Deacon. A couple of the brothers were having beers and playing poker…”

Losing his patience, Barron held out his hands. “For fuck’s sake, do I have to drag it out of you?”

“One guy pointed to a hallway. He said, ‘Deacon’s that way.’ So I followed the hallway’s right turn, and I ran into an angel. In my clumsiness, I nearly trampled this gorgeous creature. She gasped in surprise.” Johnny G wiped his face with both palms.

“I stood there, mumbling like a fool and trying to keep her from falling… Her amazing green eyes looked my way, and I knew right then and there I was in trouble. It happened so quickly. I was kinda dazed and dropped the bag. The documents spilled out. I got on one knee to pick up the papers. She laughed and knelt to help me. God, her scent hit me.” He grabbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never smelled anything so delicious or heard such laughter before. Like the sound of little bells at Christmas.”

“Fuck. This is getting worse by the minute. Now you’re waxing poetic,” Barron muttered. “What else?”

“I stuffed the documents as best I could. Repeated my apologies while the angel insisted no harm was done. That’s when thisbig dude, Deacon, I figured out, came out of nowhere, barking questions. Not a very pleasant man. I introduced myself, still feeling totally out of place. The guy didn’t loosen up, not even when I explained that I was on MC business, Blade had sent me, and I was a Spawn brother. He directed me to his office. I went, but he stayed with Isolde in the hallway. I don’t know what was said.”

“Pretty uptight. Anything else?”

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