Page 2 of Barron

“The truth is, even without the patched MC cut, your friend has the biker look, but you…”

Barron groaned. The comment was getting really old. He’d been ribbed and harassed during his prospect days in the Spawn’s South Florida chapter until he earned his patch and every day since. At the moment, his leather jacket showing Spawn colors folded neatly at his side was a sign to the world of his MC allegiance, but the tactical slacks and long-sleeved Henley he wore were a stark contrast to Johnny G’s head scarf, torn jeans, scraggly beard, and washed-out T-shirt.

Fuck ’em all. This was his style, and he wasn’t changing.

“I know. I hear it all the time. ‘Too clean-cut.’” Barron made air quotes.

“Well, you are,” Joseph said.

“Silence in the courtroom!” The command from the bench put an end to their hushed conversation. Judge Ferguson had finished studying his documents and was now engaged in a staring contest with the redheaded woman who refused to sit. “Enough of this.” In a soft voice, he spoke to his clerk. “Matthews. Please have the lady removed from my courtroom.”

Barron watched open-mouthed as two court officers approached. Folks sitting in her row scrambled out of the way. Fighting back, she swung with clawlike hands at the officers.

“Bastards. I’m not leaving!” she shouted, then she reached with both arms over the row, trying to hold Nails. “They’re going to pay for what they’ve done, brother. I swear. These fucks aren’t getting away with this.”

Startled, Nails stood, but his attorney yanked him down to his seat, whispering something in his ear.

One of the deputies slid into the row. Getting a good hold of the screeching woman, he pulled her by the arm. She still struggled as the other officer grasped her under her free arm. Having gained control of the fighting woman, the officers forcibly walked her to the hallway. In her absence, a thick silence filled the room.

Huffing, Barron sat back against his seat and folded his arms.

“What’s got you all twisted up?” Joseph asked.

“I couldn’t see her face. Shit.”

“So?”

“I can’t explain it. From the moment I saw her make a fuss, I’ve had this feeling in my gut, kinda like a warning, that it was important to see and remember her face, but with all that struggling, it’s been impossible.”

Joseph shrugged. “I had a good look out on the hallway, and she ain’t a peach. Except for that wild red hair, her looks ain’t nothing to write home about. Now pay attention.” He waved to the bench. “Judge is about to pass sentence.”

Judge Ferguson gave a signal to proceed, and without delay, the clerk announced in a clear voice. “Will the defendants rise?”

Though all five men had their backs turned to Barron, their posture was tense. An air of fear and anxiety floated about them. And with good reason, Barron thought. He’d researched Judge Ferguson. Known for his adherence to the law and hard stance, this judge had been appointed for life to the bench by the previous presidential administration and confirmed by the Senate. He was so confident in his position that he didn’t worry about naysayers.

Judge Ferguson began a lengthy anticrime speech about the breakdown of moral and ethical behavior in today’s society, the difference between right and wrong, on and on… Barron, bored to tears, ignored it until Johnny G stiffened. It was coming. Ferguson’s stern voice rang out as he sentenced all five men to twenty years behind bars due to aggravating circumstances. He left the door open for possible parole around the fifteen-year mark for good behavior.

What were the chances, Barron wondered, that these hardened men would play nice in the joint?

The defendants were removed, the judge departed for his chambers, and the courtroom emptied out, leaving a strange silence behind.

Barron mumbled goodbye to Joseph, then walked out with Johnny G. The hallway was quiet. No stragglers lingered to gossip or compare notes, but at the outside steps of the building, it was a beehive of activity. The press surrounded the redheaded lady and one defense attorney. Even if he pushed through, Barron couldn’t get close enough to get a better look at her. Meanwhile, amid a barrage of questions from the press, she shouted into a bunch of mikes shoved at her.

“Today, an innocent man was railroaded and sentenced unfairly,” she thundered. “But this judge and the rival MC responsible for this injustice will pay. Mark my words!”

“Shit. She ain’t letting it go,” Barron muttered as he and Johnny Gun rushed unnoticed past the mob.

“No kidding, man. I’m afraid we haven’t seen the last of her.”

“Nope. Blade has to know,” Barron said as they ran across the street to the parking lot where they’d left their bikes. He couldn’t get back home fast enough.

CHAPTER ONE

Garden City, Georgia.

Six months later…

“Miss Yoanni Sanz, bring your pad to my office.” Captain Weaver waved from the threshold of his office door. “Quickly, please, I have several letters to dictate.” He strode back to his desk and sat down before he called out one more time. “While I’m still alive would be great!”

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