Page 43 of Johnny Gun

“Talk to me, Deacon,” Blade urged. “Are we cool?”

Deacon exhaled. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Axel? You, okay?”

“Yes, Blade. Thanks.”

“Good luck, guys.”

Axel ended the call, and Gomez was left wanting more. “What should we do?” he asked Trent.

“We wait and see what shakes,” Trent said.

“Hey, I’m sorry, man.” Deacon offered his hand to Axel. “I said things I shouldn’t have, but Isolde’s behavior threw me for a loop.”

“Forget it.” Axel shook Deacon’s hand, a weak smile on his face. “If I had a daughter, I’d go nuts too.”

Deacon walked over to Opal and Sydney, who’d lost all color. Neither woman had moved from her spot. “Please, Sydney, you heard Blade. Take Opal home with you. Go, now.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Dad,” Opal protested.

Smiling, Deacon caressed her long, silky hair. Gomez could almost feel the sensation in his hand. The girl wasn’t bad-looking. If Isolde didn’t pan out, he considered her sister a decent second choice. Pity Daddy was sending her away. He was losing his eye candy.

“Do this for me, sweetheart,” Deacon said.

“You should go, little girl.” Axel moved next to Deacon. “Your father wants you safe.” Opal turned her huge eyes at him.

What’s this?Gomez arched an eyebrow.Is this guy trying to move into my territory?

“Did you hear that, darling?” Deacon soothed. “Blade and Axel are right. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.” He turned his attention to Sydney. “Don’t even pack. Buy whatever Opal needs, I’ll pay you back.”

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry,” Sydney said quietly, then grabbed Opal’s arm. “Come on. Your dad’s worried and needs our cooperation.” Head down and sniffling softly, Opal left with Sydney.

“Stop leching,” Trent hissed. “Go get laid or something.”

Gomez jerked. “I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were,” Trent huffed. “One of these days, someone other than me is gonna notice, and you’ll be in a world of shit.”

“Listen up, guys,” Deacon spoke to the crew. “We have to set up posts around the clubhouse. Before we do, let’s inventory weapons and ammo. See how much we have. I’ll go get my stuff.”

He moved into the hallway, and everyone scattered. The Garden Hills crew rushed to the game room, where they’d stored their weapons bags.

Gomez stomped over to the bar.

“Where are you doing?” Trent asked, his hand on the door handle.

“All this talk about weapons and ammo made me thirsty. I need a beer, pronto.”

“You’re impossible.” He laughed and walked out.

Who knew?Trent kept weapons in his bike too, Gomez mused as he popped his beer open and drank a long gulp. When it came to handguns, he preferred to carry his in the holster clipped to his belt. That’s why most of his T-shirts were big and loose. The Glock’s hardness pressing against his waist made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Once he finished a beer or two, he’d retrieve the two magazines out of his bike’s rear compartment. Hardly enough ammo to repel a full attack. If this thing turned vicious, he’d have to hide in a closet.

He finished his first beer, then popped open another as Max and Tank returned to the room with serious-looking rifles Gomez couldn’t identify and bags loaded with heavy stuff. Axel, Bullet, and Pilot followed them in, carrying similar equipment. These southern guys didn’t fool around.

Except for Deacon, the Dalton crew returned, one by one, to the common room. Each guy carried his weapon, or weapons, of choice. Trent had his Smith & Wesson and a12-gauge shotgun.

The bottle in Gomez’s hand exploded. Beer splattered his face and chest. He gasped.

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