Page 12 of Johnny Gun

Deacon glanced toward the property’s boundary line. He’d chosen this spot because the surrounding trees hid the clubhouse from the road and muted the traffic sounds as well. Not that there was much traffic on the road.

“It’s them. I’ll wait here.” He nodded, then frowned at Isolde and Opal. “You two go inside. I’ll call you when it’s time to meet the guys. Until then, I want you to stay in our half of the clubhouse. Understood?”

“Yes, Dad.” Isolde hurried in, tugging Opal at the same time. Firmly in the game, she agreed to obey her father’s orders.

However, once the men arrived and her father got busy, she had every intention of sneaking to the edge of the connecting corridor and taking a peek at the Garden City brothers. Actually, she’d brave his anger just to take a quick glimpse at one very special brother in particular.

“I knew your dad would find you.” Facing the stove, Sydney spoke with her back to the kitchen entrance. She had her red curls tied in a high ponytail while she stirred something in a pan. The delicious scent of cooked garlic wafted to Isolde’s nostrils.

“He did,” Opal answered. “Smells really good. What is it?”

Sydney glanced over her shoulder. “You like it? That’s great, because I’m doctoring store-bought pasta sauce. I figured your dad’s feeding a small army of men, and baked ziti goes a long way.” She gestured to her right, where three boxes of pasta, two unopened large tubs of ricotta cheese, a couple of eggs in a bowl, and two aluminum pans waited to be used.

“How can we help?” Isolde asked.

Putting the spoon on a holder by the stove, Sydney smiled. “I need the mozzarella sliced. It’s in the fridge. Can you take care of that? And Opal, grating the parmesan is your job while I make the ricotta mixture.”

“On it.” Isolde took the cheese packages out of the fridge, and Opal put the grater on the island counter. As she readied the board and knife to slice, Isolde watched Sydney beat the mixture of cheese and eggs. The image swapped for her, and instead of Sydney, it was her beloved mother cooking Sunday pasta.

“Have you done this before?” Isolde asked, blinking back the sudden tears.

“Just a couple of times. This is how your mother taught me to cut corners when she didn’t have enough time to make sauce from scratch. Start with a good jar sauce and add a few ingredients.” She dipped her finger into the cheese/egg mixture and tasted a small bit. “Needs more salt.” Sydney sprinkled a pinch, then resumed stirring. “Today is one of those hurry-up big dinners.”

Isolde’s throat tightened as a rush of old memories flooded her mind…

Sydney and her mother, Elaine, had met in grammar school, soon after Sydney and her grandparents moved into town. Despite their different backgrounds—Elaine Marchetti was second-generation Italian, while Sydney Blackwood’s ancestors had traveled to America during the Scottish clearances—the two friends did just about everything together but get married. Elaineaccepted Deacon’s proposal, while Sydney, arguing that she hadn’t found the right man, remained single.

When Elaine’s cancer was diagnosed, Sydney stepped in to pick up the slack for her friend and to help the Lennox family in every way she could. But Isolde’s father wanted nothing to do with her. Deacon turned surly and rude. Isolde used to wonder if Sydney was his reminder of Elaine’s inescapable illness, and he resented her for it. Eventually, Deacon caved to Elaine’s gentle pleas and arguments from his daughters to be kind. Though he softened his comments, he refused to be in the same room with Sydney.

Isolde and Opal learned to love Sydney, then later depended on her once their mother passed. Sydney took on the job of rudder for the grieving family. Without her guidance, the Lennox household would have been doomed to capsize.

Time, as most people say, heals or makes pain easier to bear. Deacon managed to accept Elaine’s loss and was calm most days, except for late nights when memories and demons pushed him to the bottle. At those times, he lashed out at the world and the cruel fate that had snatched away the love of his life.

Illumination did come to Deacon. During a sober evening, he realized Sydney had put aside her own loss to help the family of her best friend and stopped being an ungrateful ass. And so Sydney assumed her well-deserved place of essential spoke in the Lennox wheel. Nothing happened in the family without first asking her advice. Which included suggesting the menu to feed a gang of hungry bikers.

A knock on the door interrupted Isolde’s thoughts. Eyes wide, Opal stopped grating cheese.

The hard voice gave Isolde the shivers as the door opened. “Ladies, how are you?”

Gomez. Why is he here?

A frowning Sydney hurled out the question. “Did you loseyour way, Gomez? This side of the clubhouse is for Deacon’s family. You know his rules. You’re in private and off-limits territory.”

“Always so pleasant, Syd.” The scowl and angry stare denied his words. “And here I thought we’d become friends.”

Isolde put the knife down and rubbed one arm. Gomez had a way of looking at a woman as if he were taking off her clothes. He’d done it to her and was now doing it to Sydney. But Sydney didn’t hide her dislike for the dark-eyed man. She held his gaze without hesitation. Her“I dare you”body language was so direct and strong, Gomez flinched. Isolde smiled with a curious sense of pride. She’d always suspected Sydney was no pushover. Here was proof.

“Don’t get confused,” Sydney snapped. “We’re lifestyle acquaintances. You’re in an MC and I’m a close friend with the president’s family. So, what do you want?”

He chuckled, curling one corner of his lips. “Is that what you call it? Spending time with the family…or the prez? The brothers ask that question all the time.”

Sydney stepped closer to Gomez. “Whatever I do, it’s really none of your business. Is it?” She stabbed her fingertip into his cut in time with her words.

Gomez gave a soft growl. “If you were a man, you wouldn’t dare do that.” He grabbed her hand, then dropped his face close to hers. They were almost eye to eye.

“But I’m not. Ain’t that grand?” Chin up, she pursed her lips. “Now, kindly let go of my hand.”

“Gomez, Sydney.” Deacon’s voice thundered in the kitchen. “What the fuck is happening here?”

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