Page 54 of Barron

Gently, Yoanni removed Betty’s hands from her arms. But as she turned to grab the door, Betty shoved her aside with a strength that surprised her, punched in the code, and rushed into the main hallway.

“It’s almost nine. I have to clock in,” she exclaimed by way of apology. “I don’t want to get into trouble. But not you. You’re the captain’s assistant. The clock doesn’t exist for you. Lucky girl.”

Yoanni stopped, watching the young woman dash to the time recorder. That was the second time Betty had made a snide remark about her position. Too bad. Yoanni had paid her dues to get here and wouldn’t apologize for whatever perks came with it.

Something else too…a faint detail didn’t quite track. Seemed odd when it popped, but she lost it in the commotion. Later, she would remember. She always did.

Barron strode through his place, discarding the sweats, hoodie, and cap he wore on the drive to drop off Yoanni. He’d agreed to spend the day buttoning up the agency for opening day and wanted to change. He didn’t care if Shifter and the other guys wore ratty jeans and shirts. That wasn’t his style. Standing in his boxer shorts, he rummaged through his closet, searching for business casual clothes. As he finished dressing, his phone dinged with a text from Johnny Gun.

Get to the clubhouse. Now.

What’s up?

Johnny G replied quickly.

Deacon wants to see you.

Be right there.

Frowning, Barron dropped his phone into the side pocket of his cargo pants—it was a mystery to him how guys carried their phones in their jeans. He took his gun out of the nightstand’sdrawer, where he’d stored it overnight—he didn’t want to worry Yoanni—stuffed it in the back of his waistband, and pulled his Henley over it.

Wondering what the Dalton prez could want with him, he took the last gulp of coffee, picked up his keys and wallet, and walked out to the garage. He hesitated a moment between taking the bike or the truck, but if he and Yoanni were stopping at her place for clothes, the truck was a better option. After tapping the garage opener, he hopped in behind the wheel and pulled into the street. As he merged into traffic, any questions he had about Deacon Lennox were pushed aside.

Rush hour was over. Barron reached the clubhouse in ten minutes. He led the truck past the new gate—the front yard had undergone significant improvements—to a space allocated for larger vehicles, and parked.

He ran up the steps into the clubhouse and walked in. Considering the number of bikes outside, he expected to find the room busy. It was empty. Would Blade call everyone to church without including Barron?

Nah.

Barron started to type a text to Johnny G when the muted discussion reached him, which meant closed doors. He went after them, stopped before Blade’s office, and walked inside without knocking.

Fuck ’em.

“Good. You’re here. Join the party.” Blade’s tone dripped with sarcasm. He waved at Barron from behind his desk. “Find a spot. I hope you brought your phone.”

Patting his pants pocket in response, Barron moved to the window next to Johnny Gun and leaned against it. Blade’s office wasn’t large. With the return of Breaker from vacation and the presence of Little Billy, Turbo, Shifter, and Axel, there wasnowhere to sit. Deacon stood all by himself, no Isolde, against Blade’s shelves. His combative expression put Barron on alert.

“What the fuck is going on?” he whispered to Johnny G.

“Our friend from the north and a Wolf had a run-in once. It’s all I know.”

“I understand you took the photos Blade showed me.” Deacon stared at him. Felt closer to a glare.

What the fuck is this guy’s problem?

“Yeah, so?”

“Blade said you have more. May I see them?”

Barron narrowed his gaze. Rejecting a brother’s request was considered rude and hostile. Still, he was a possessive fuck and allowed no one near his private property.

“I’ll text everything I have to Blade. He’s seen them before.”

Deacon stiffened at the obvious rebuff, and some of the brother’s murmured in disapproval.

“You’re not being very accommodating, brother,” Deacon said.

“On the contrary. I’m sending Blade what you asked for.”

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