Page 85 of Barron

“Killer had nothing to do with Warden’s death.”

“No shit. But Deacon can’t let go. Revenge has consumed his mind and changed him. He’s not the same fun-loving biker from years ago.”

“That means Rover’s gonna demand payback. And the cycle repeats.”

“It’s generational,” Blade muttered. “I hate to say it, but the feud will go on as long as Rover, Gunner, and Deacon live.”

“Is Deacon still in town?”

“Nope. He’s gone. Took Isolde and rode north. But you and I know this is just the beginning. He’ll need a protective detail. Guys to watch his back because the Steel Wolves are coming.”

Barron rubbed his hands over his face and up into his hair, trying to erase Johnny Gun’s face from his vision. He could see italready. Hands down, his friend would volunteer before anyone else to protect Isolde’s father.

“Okay. Let’s deal with this when it comes. Right now, I can only focus on Analise. I won’t breathe until the bitch is picked up.”

“I hear you, my man. We’re all on it.”

He stood. “Gotta go. Where do I find them? I want to say goodbye.”

“I’ll take you.”

Holding Little Jerrod in his arms, Blade stood and headed for the connecting passage. A couple of turns later, Barron stood on the threshold of an adorable Little room.

A collection of pretty crayon drawings on canvas, framed cartoon graphics, and multicolored neon signs in the shapes of hearts, stars, and crescent moons decorated the walls painted in a soft yellow. Shelves were loaded with stuffies in different sizes and shapes. A white crib and rocking chair stood by a wall under the window. A vintage record player with a stack of 45 rpm records took one corner. He didn’t have to play the records to know they were all lullabies and children’s songs. In the center of the floor, a plastic tea set decorated a child-sized table.

Cel and Yoanni sat in front of each other in small chairs, laughing and chatting. They had glitter all over their fingers. It warmed his heart to see her happy, so at ease and protected, and far removed from another woman’s evil intent.

She saw him, jumped to her feet, and rushed to hug him. “Daddy.”

“I’m going to the cottage, babe.” Caressing her hair, he kissed her forehead. “I’ll pick you up later, okay? Be a good girl.”

“I will.”

He kissed her again and walked out. An aching sensation gripped his throat. Even though he knew she was having fun, he hated leaving her.

Barron was pleased. The project known among the MC brothers as Yoanni’s home rescue job progressed faster than even he’d imagined it would. By Sunday late morning, the place was sparkling clean, the furniture was returned to its original place, and not a speck of garish red paint or insulting words remained on the walls. His MC brothers’ efforts had erased every trace of Analise’s attack on his sweetheart’s place. He and Johnny Gun—the last two to leave the site—inspected the cottage top to bottom and approved.

They could move on to the final phase, which included packing her clothes and kitchen items.

That afternoon, as Barron moved about his garage, collecting and stacking boxes to carry Yoanni’s wardrobe and her pots and pans, he recalled his conversation with Johnny G:

“What do you think?” Barron asked.

“It’s done,” Johnny G said. “But I’d wait a couple of hours. The smell of paint is still pretty overpowering.”

“You’re right. I’ll come back around five and check the smell. If it’s bearable, we move what’s left tonight.”

Barron returned to the cottage at five, not that he was anxious or anything to end this, opened the door, and sniffed. The odor was bearable, and if all three moved quickly, they could dispatch the job in thirty minutes tops. As he returned to his bike and mounted, he texted Johnny G.

The smell ain’t bad. Let’s do this.

Johnny G replied right away.

I’ll meet you there in twenty.

Done.

With that settled, Barron called Yoanni’s phone.

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