Johnny Gun: Devils' Spawn Daddies

This Daddy will protect his little, and he doesn’t plan to ask permission. Or forgiveness…

Johnny Gun’s errand from Garden City to the club’s Dalton, Georgia chapter is his idea of the perfect ride. Hard, fast…and alone. Until a pair of sparkling emerald eyes and a laugh like Christmas bells arouses his inner Daddy Dom and complicates his simple life all to hell.

Isolde is a sweet, natural little, but so damned young, while Johnny’s on the wrong side of thirty. Plus, her father—the Dalton club’s president—will snap him like a twig. So Johnny regretfully puts her angelic perfection in his rear-view mirror. As the months go by, he gives up trying to forget her.

When word reaches Garden City that the Steel Wolves are planning to kidnap Isolde and wipe out their Dalton brothers, Johnny doesn’t wait for permission. He sweeps Isolde into hiding at a remote waterfront house, where he discovers she never forgot him, either—and passion roars to life.

But somewhere in the Devils’ Spawn brotherhood there’s a snake in the grass. And no one is prepared for the violence of the poison when it strikes…

Note: Johnny Gun is book three in the Devil’s Spawn Daddies series. It features a different couple from books one and two, Cutter and Barron, but for maximum enjoyment readers are encouraged to read the series in order. Age Gap, DD/Lg dynamics included

PROLOGUE

Dalton, North Georgia

Johnny Gun leaned on the foot peg hard, balancing against the tight curve. A rush of adrenaline pumped furiously into his system. The danger had put his senses on full alert. He was taking the curve faster than he should, and one brief miscalculation or unexpected surface debris, and he’d spill all over the pavement. He emerged to the straightaway on the solitary road and slowed; otherwise, he’d fly past his destination. As he continued at an easier pace, patches of a white house peeked between thickets of pine trees. He squinted forward. About a quarter of a mile ahead, a numbered sign stood on the left side of the road.

After turning into the entry, he slowly rolled downhill on a gravelly winding path, coasted past a long greenish pond, then sped up the rise to reach the house. This had to be the destination he sought. A number of bikes parked in front were pretty good indicators he’d arrived at the Devils’ Spawn Dalton chapter clubhouse. He dismounted, glanced at his watch, and mentally congratulated himself. It was twelve thirty. Traffic north had been fairly light, and he’d made it here in just about five hours, which gave him a two-hour window before he had to head home or stay overnight—an option he preferred to avoid.

The idea of riding alone didn’t sit well with most of his brothers, mainly for long distances, but it didn’t bother him one bit. He enjoyed the solitude and the sensation of belonging to the road without having to share it with anyone else.

If the Dalton prez read and signed the documents he’d brought from the Garden City’s Spawn prez without delay, Johnny G could conceivably be back on the road by two. In late June, he’d have the sun almost all the way home.

He pulled out the document bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked toward the door. He lifted a hand to knock and stopped. Despite the beautiful and serene surroundings, the vibes this place emitted were off. He could almost taste anger and tension. The air reeked of both.

What kind of chickenshit bullshit behavior is this? He berated himself mentally. When had he turned into a touchy-feely snowflake? He was here on a mission from Blade. His prez trusted him, and he’d accomplish his job.

Pulling his mental gonads to the forefront where they belonged, he banged on the door with the heel of his hand.

A frowning dude wearing a red bandanna tied around his forehead opened the door. “We ain’t buying.” He moved to close the door on Johnny G’s face, but he shoved his boot in. “And I ain’t selling shit,” he growled.

“Hey!” the guy protested.

Behind him, angry voices called out. Before the situation went south and the rest of the guys got involved, Johnny G spoke quickly.

“Dude. I’m Johnny Gun, a Spawn brother. I just rode up from Garden City. I brought MC documents Deacon has to sign.”

Still blocking the door, the red-bandanna guy spoke to someone inside the room. “This guy says his name is Johnny Gun from Garden City. That sound right to you?”

A loud chorus replied to the question at once.

“They tell me you’re legit.” The guy opened the door. “Sorry, man, but these days, we can’t be too careful, and I’ve never seen you before.”

Johnny G gave him and thorough up-and-down scan. “Might help if you learned the names of your fellow MC brothers. I could’ve been Blade himself. Would you have closed the door on him?”

“Said I was sorry.” The guy extended a hand. “I’m Jax. Are we cool?”

“We’re cool.” Johnny shook Jax’s hand and walked into the clubhouse. Four brothers seated around a table were engaged in a heavy-duty game of poker. By the looks of the half-eaten bags of potato chips, crumbs everywhere, empty beer bottles, and piled up soiled paper plates, they’d been at it for hours.

The guy sitting at the head of the table had a blond horseshoe mustache, which sort of matched his shoulder-length braids. He strategically placed his cards face down and close to the edge of the table for easy pickup. Privately, Johnny G approved of the move.

“I’m Gomez,” the guy said. “It’s a long ride from the mother ship. I know you didn’t come up for the scenery. What’s up?”

Damn, the overall attitude was pissing Johnny G off.

“Blade sent me. I need to talk to Deacon right away so I can be on my way back.”

“Wait. You intend to ride back today? That’s fucked. Ain’t you tired?”

“I’m fine. Where’s Deacon?”

“That way.” Gomez pointed to a passageway. “Go down the hall. Knock on the first door to your left. If no one answers, go to the right. That’s where he lives.”

“Much obliged.” Johnny G tapped his forehead and walked into a dark corridor. A faint sliver of light appeared on his right, but it wasn’t strong enough to illuminate his way. In his rush, he plowed forward and ran straight into a much smaller person.

“Oh.” The startled gasp came from a woman he’d nearly tackled. His reaction was quick. Reaching out, he grasped her arm to keep her standing.

Feeling like an idiot, he mumbled an apology, then glanced down.

And his life changed forever…