Page 18 of Johnny Gun

“Thanks, ladies. You’re very kind.” Tapping his forehead, he left the room in a hurry.

CHAPTER FOUR

Outside, Johnny G straddled his bike, hit the kickstand, and cranked the engine. Night was upon him, and the clubhouse’s outdoor lights were off, but he trusted his bike’s headlamp to show him the rocky path winding past the lagoon, then back up and out to the main road. The moon was supposed to be full tonight. Soon, a pale silver light would illuminate the woods.

Although his instinct was to throw care to the wind, rev up the engine and fly, he kept a moderate speed. He wasn’t familiar with the area. At this hour creatures crossing the road surprised you. Made no sense to compound a weird night with an accident.

As he rode past the forest, hulking shadows and points of lights dispersing through the trees, his mind returned to the fiasco of tonight’s dinner.

His utter failure.

First, Isolde’s captivating scent had found its way into his nostrils, dazzling his senses. Her appearance in the dining room had slowed his ability to process the complicated nuances of thesituation. But the responsibility for controlling his reactions and thoughts didn’t fall on her. It was solely his.

Time and distance had weakened his will.

Months had passed since the last time he’d had a brief and hardly satisfying glimpse of the woman his soul ached for. So tonight, being in her home, deep within the influence of her luminous presence, he’d buckled. The lifelong Dominant in him had essentially flown out the window. Throw into the mix a lecherous, cunning rival competing for Isolde’s affections, and he’d lost his step in the fog of possessive fury. Good Lord, he could’ve pulverized Gomez without the slightest hesitation, then whisked her off to some far away secret spot. A location only he knew about.

To his right, a reflective sign announcing three successive curves coming up on the road He slowed his speed as he negotiated the curves. Once he exited onto the straightaway, a single headlight flashed in his rearview mirrors. This biker had to know the road because he was coming fast.

Although he went on alert mode, Johnny G moved to his far right, giving the approaching bike enough room to pass. But as the rider came nearer, he slowed and slipped to his left. Johnny G gave the biker a quick glance and relaxed. The name Viper gleamed on the rider’s helmet. Smiling, Johnny G tapped on his own helmet in a sign of recognition. Viper nodded, waved at him to follow, then sped up enough to take the lead.

Whether Johnny G wanted to admit it or not, riding behind Viper erased some of his anger, and a sense of companionship comforted his tension. In his rush to escape the clubhouse, he’d violated a bunch of safety protocols.

Riding alone was his jam. He loved it. He usually did it safely, during the day and in familiar surroundings. A lone biker in the dead of night and on a strange road was an easy target for those who disliked people like him. That kind of hate was plentiful andfound everywhere. Sure, he’d needed air and space to cool down. Maybe he should’ve gone for a walk instead.

Soon, he noticed the road’s gradual descent. They were out of the woods, and the glow of incandescent urban lights guided them forward. Viper slowed, and Johnny Gun moved to his right.

“We’re almost there.” Viper gestured and yelled above the din to be heard. “Next block.”

Johnny nodded. At the next corner, he saw several bikes parked in front of a low building with a porch that stretched from end to end. Viper pulled into the first empty slot. Johnny G stopped next to him.

“I would’ve missed the place,” he said, dismounting.

“Yeah, Ridley’s a funny dude,” Viper said, releasing his chin strap. He took off his WWII infantry helmet, then hung it on his handlebars. “He doesn’t go for signs. He says, ‘If you know, you know where to go.’ That’s his jam.” He shrugged and walked past him. “Let’s go. You owe me a beer.” Viper pushed the door in and headed straight for the bar.

A handsome young man somewhere in his early twenties working behind the counter called out to him. “Hey, Viper. What’s up?”

“Not much.” Perching on a stool, Viper signaled to Johnny G to do the same. “Brought my friend from out of town to have a beer. Johnny Gun, meet Alan. He’s Ridley’s son. Alan, this is my MC brother Johnny Gun, from Garden City.”

“Nice meeting you.” Alan’s smile displayed a row of perfect white teeth against his smooth, dark brown skin. He offered his hand, andJohnny G shook it and sat on his stool.

“The tab’s on me,” Johnny G said.

“The usual?” Alan asked.

“I’ll take a lager,” Viper replied.

“Make that two,” Johnny G said.

“You got it.” Alan placed two sixteen-ounce glasses—the kid knew Viper’s preference—under the tap and poured.

“How come you’re tending bar? Aren’t you in school?” Viper asked. “Where’s Ridley?”

“Dad has the night off. He’s cutting some of his hours while I take a break this semester,” Alan said, his attention on pouring the beer. “I’ll return in the winter.”

“Sounds good,” Viper said. “Don’t give up on school. It’s important.”

“I can’t.” Alan set the first glass before Johnny G. “Mom would kill me.”

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