by A. R. Breck
“Bitch.” She mumbles, then gives me a smirk.
We laugh as we walk towards the boys. I nearly trip over myself when Jackson comes into view. He looks like a fucking wet dream in his snapback hat, black shirt with black joggers, and vans. It’s painful to look at him when he’s this good looking.
Or has he always been this good looking, and my eye has never been swayed until now?
It’s like his aura has changed lately. Maybe I’m changing him just as much as he’s changing me? I want to hate him so bad, but one look at his hazel eyes and my knees turn weak.
“Shit, Jackson is looking pretty delicious right now.” Rose mumbles in my ear as we near them.
“I know!” I whisper-shout out of the side of my mouth.
“Good luck.” She mumbles. Easton walks up to her and takes her suitcase, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her in a tight grip. I turn away, jealousy eating me alive.
Turning towards Jackson, I see him with narrowed eyes staring at me. “What was that about?” He grabs the suitcase out of his hand and lifts it like it’s nothing. Like it’s filled with air.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing. You looked at them hug and frowned. Why’d you frown?”
I shake my head at him. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Jax.”
He shakes his head and grabbing onto my arm, pulls me away from Easton and Rose. “What’s going on?”
I contemplate lying to him and then realize he’d probably catch the lie anyway. “Pregnancy has just got my emotions all over the place. I’m realizing I’m a little bit… jealous of them.”
“Of who?” He butts in, scowling down at me.
“Easton and Rose.”
He looks over at him, then back to me. “I don’t understand.”
I sign, running my hand through my beachy waves that I tried to impersonate but probably actually look like shit. “Their love is real, and I want that. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.”
His face goes blank as he absorbs my words. “You miss Logan.” Not presented as a question, but rather, a statement. He’s sure of this, and he’s not necessarily wrong.
“I do, but that’s not what it’s about.”
“Sure, it is.” He turns from me and walks back to Easton and Rose.
“Jackson.” I say, but it’s too late. I’m not going to fight in public with him. I just hope we can make the best of our vacation and I didn’t just ruin it by bringing up loneliness and Logan.
I walk back to them and Rose gives me a questioning look. I shake my head at her.
“All right. We’ve got to hurry up.” Easton picks up his and Rose’s bags, and we head inside.
“Cara.” Jackson barks from the other side of the door. He pounds on it and I try to control my breathing as I press my forehead into my hands.
Of course—of course—I can hold down my nausea the entire flight. Rose made it seem like it’s a walk in the park when she clipped her seatbelt and reclined back in luxury, snuggling up against Easton. The elevation changes made my stomach turn and twist and jump through fucking hoops as the pressure filled my head and gave me the world’s largest migraine.
Once we started descending, my stomach rolled, and fucking rolled, and the nausea hit me full force. I swallowed back the bile continuously because we couldn’t unclip our seatbelts. The moment the seatbelt light turned off, I bolted out of my seat and I swear I was like a linebacker and I pushed through people and might have even clocked someone in the cheek on the way to the bathroom.
When I got there, I slammed the tiny door shut and knelt over the seat and expelled the little food I had that morning. The worst part was, just having my face so close to that horrid toilet was enough to keep me dry heaving for a good five minutes.
Now, embarrassment has me trapped in this closet bathroom and I’m considering just sitting in here until it takes me back to Minneapolis.
“Cara! Open up!” Rose says, pounding on the door.
I turn as slowly as possible and flip the lock. The door creaks open, and the smoky scent of Jackson comes into view. “You all right?” He murmurs, brushing my hair out of my face.
“No. I’m nauseous and extremely embarrassed. Probably should just hide in shame for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, stop! You’re not the first pregnant lady to get sick on an airplane.”
“Still sucks.” I wipe my mouth and stand up on shaky knees. Now I just feel dehydrated, my head is pounding, and I have the worst taste in my mouth, ever.
“Okay. Let’s get up, go check in at the hotel and relax for a bit. We don’t have much planned for today, anyway.” Rose says.
Jackson’s large hands come underneath my arms as he lifts me up to standing. “Come on, Cara.” He mumbles. Leaning most of my weight into him, we leave the bathroom and make our way to the exit of the plane.
Some of the flight attendants stand to the side and give me sympathetic looks.
“Are you all right?” One of them says, reaching out to touch my arm.
Jackson turns his body to the side, effectively blocking her reach. “She’s fine.” He growls.
Her eyes widen in concern. And mine widen in shock. His possessiveness and feral look would kill a lesser man.
“I’m fine.” I reiterate. My voice wobbles, nausea still gripping my throat.
Easton stands at the exit of the plane with all our suitcases near his feet. He gives Jackson a questioning look, and he nods his head in response.
Easton and Rose pick up our bags, and Jackson keeps ahold of my weight as we make our way off the plane.
“Thank you!” Rose says to everyone as we exit.
We make it towards the car rental service and Easton walks up to the counter to pick up our rental. “Are you okay?” Jackson whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, but you don’t have to keep holding onto me like this. It’s not like I got hurt. Just a little nausea.”
“Yeah, and you look pale as a ghost and weak as fuck. I’m not going to chance you collapsing at the airport, too.”
“He’s right. You look really ill.” Rose says from beside him.
“Wow, thanks guys. Really making me feel good about myself.” I roll my eyes.
“Got the keys.” Easton comes up behind us with a BMW key ring.
“Can I drive?” Rose asks.
Easton cocks an eyebrow and bursts out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“What? Why!”
Easton turns his head to Jackson, effectively ignoring Rose. “You guys all right? I’ll go pull the rental up to the front.”
“Hey, fucking asshole.” Rose hits him in the arm. He whips his gaze towards her and flares his nostrils. He grabs her by the back of her neck and pulls her forward, leaving her a breath away from his lips.
“Watch yourself.” The tension skyrockets around them, and curious eyes start dancing our way.
“Watch yourself.” Rose mimics. She’s a ballsy ass bitch when she goes head to head with Easton. I think they like it. Their sick, twisted game they play with each other. I think he likes someone who will go up against him, and I think she likes a guy who will put her in her place. She’s too headstrong and needs someone to balance her.
I think they need one another to balance each other out.
Easton smirks his razor-sharp smirk as he kisses her. “You’re paying for that one later, you ass.” He reaches down, pinching her ass and making her let out a yelp.
“Okay, time to go I’ve got a meeting with Aziel in an hour.” He lifts up the rest of the bags on the ground and we make our way out to the exit.
15
Jackson
“Shit’s dope.” I watch the ocean pass by on the way to The Seven’s clubhouse. We left the girls at a nice hotel right along the coast. Cara’s color came back by the time we reached the hotel, but she still said she wasn’t feeling the best. We really had to make it in time to meet Aziel. As much as I didn’t want to leave Cara, the number one task on
this trip is to get this deal done with The Seven, and we can’t disappoint. Rich will definitely have our heads if we fuck this up.
I can tell we are at the right place when we pull up to a massive gate made of twelve-foot steel walls. When we get to the entrance, some dude in a biker vest sitting at his post stands up with his gun in hand, walking up and tapping it on our window.
Easton rolls down his window and sticks his hand out. “Easton Malone.”
The guys eyes widen as he sticks his hand in Easton’s. “Charlie. Give me a sec, I’ll let you in.”
Easton rolls his window back up and looks at me. “Fuckin’ prospect.” He chuckles, and I watch the kid rush to unlock the gates. The steel walls make a buzzing noise as they start to slide open.
We glide forward into the clubhouse and I watch as men in cuts walk about, some near their bikes, others smoking near picnic tables, while some grope half naked women—hookers?—in ways that you can only do in California.
“Welcome to The Seven, brother.” Easton murmurs.
I reach into my pocket to pull out my pack of Marlboro’s. Rarely one to smoke, but I think being around this pack of greasy bikers calls for the perfect time. Lighting up, I pass the pack to Easton, who grabs one himself.
“My thoughts exactly.” He mumbles.
We roll to a stop, and in front of us the door swings open and out comes Aziel. Strapped in his cut and blue jeans, he looks like he’s ready to get shit going.
“How was your trip?” Aziel asks as we step out of the car, giving each of us a handshake.
“Too fucking long.” Easton says.
“Always is. Didn’t feel like driving?”
“Jackson’s girl is pregnant.”
Aziel turns to me and grimaces. “I remember from The Pit. How you doin’, man? Shit was rough that night. Didn’t see you again after you left. What ever happened?”
I shake my head, working my throat as I try to work out the words. Casual conversation doesn’t do me well. I have a hard time with the ridiculous, unnecessary conversation that regular people have.
“Good. Shit worked out.” Not really, but it is what it is.
Aziel nods his head and turns back to Easton. Most people know who I am. I’m The Mute and no one really talks to me anyway.
“You brought the ladies with you?” His question is directed at Easton as he looks towards the car.
“Yeah. They’re back at the hotel. You’ll see them tomorrow.” Easton says.
Aziel cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Hotel? I thought you guys were staying here. Could have brought the girls with you, too. We have plenty of room.”
“They’re good. We’re staying at some small hotel on the water. They’ll probably hangout at the beach most of the time anyway.” Truth. I know Rose will park her ass on that sand and not leave until we have to head back if she could have it her way.
Aziel gives him a knowing smile. “Fuckin’ women. All right, come on. I figured we’d go over shit before we head out tomorrow morning. We won’t keep you too long.”
We head inside and are immediately greeted with a group of men standing around a bar area. “Easton!” A giant of a man stands up and walks towards Easton, giving him a bear hug. I see the name President patched on his cut and immediately realize it’s Aziel’s father.
“Lynx. Good to see you, man.” Easton slaps him on the back.
Lynx turns towards me and gives me a warm smile. The man is taller than me, must be about six foot six with about eighty pounds on me. All beefed up muscle, the guy looks like a tank and his beard and tied back brown ponytail put the final touches make up the grungy look all the bikers seem to have. “Jackson. Haven’t seen you in a long time.” He brings a hand out and I give him a firm shake. “Your father talks well about you. Good man, he is.”
Oh my fucking God, someone shoot me.
“Thanks.”
“Should we take this in the other room to finish introductions and go over tomorrow?”
“Sounds good to me.” Easton says, giving me a look that says keep cool.
“Barbi! Bring in a round of shots, would ya?”
“No problem, babe.” Some blonde with big tits and curly hair pops out from around the corner and disappears again.
We walk through the room filled with large TV’s and pool tables, and into a room off to the left. A large table fills most of the room and the various members walk in and take their usual spots. Easton and I stand off to the side next to the head of the table as Lynx takes a seat.
“All right, guys. Most of you know Easton.” Easton nods his head and a chorus of hey, man rings throughout the room.
“And this is Jackson Shaw. Randall’s son. He don’t talk much, so don’t be a cock about it. Go around and say who you are so shit isn’t awkward later.”
“Name’s Cassius.” Comes from a man with a lazy southern drawl with dark eyes and dark hair. Colorful tattoos cover his arms all the way down to his hands and knuckles. The Enforcer is patched on his cut.
I give him a nod.
“Jex.” Treasurer. He has a harsh smile with a scar indented down his face and ending on his upper lip. His black hair is a mane of untamed hair as it falls to his shoulders. Also covered in tattoos, but at this point, it looks like I’m the only one in this room who doesn’t have any.
“I’m West.” Sgt. of Arms is patched into his cut. His blonde hair makes him look more surfer than biker. He looks like the player at the party that sleeps with a minimum of two girls in a night. Sadly, it reminds me of Logan so much that I can barely even look at him.
“Pascal.” With the patch of Road Captain, his look fits the bill. Filled with more tattoos than skin, he looks rough as hell and like an angry ass motherfucker. His hair is pulled back into a bun at the base of his head and it only accentuates his sharp cheekbones.
“Name’s Niles.” Comes a baritone voice. The patch Member is stitched on his cut. He looks rough around the edges with his sandy brown hair and glossy red eyes. Either this guy is baked as fuck or hungover as fuck.
The weird thing is, is that I planned to come in here and meet with some old greasy fuckers, but the people in this room are young. Not as young as me and Easton, but thirties, maybe forties. The oldest guy is Aziel’s dad, Lynx. And he’s what… maybe late forties, early fifties at the most? Most of the old fucks were outside tinkering on their bikes.
“These bastards are going to be the one’s working with you tomorrow. We’ve got some other members and I know you met our prospect at the gate.” Lynx gravels.
We go over the plan for tomorrow. We’re meeting with the Mexicans at an abandoned gas station near the border. There the Mexicans will be delivering guns to The Seven. Should be easy with no issues. If there were, I think Rich would’ve had more people accompany us from back home. I think the reason we were brought down here was to make sure we wouldn’t fuck anything up. That we were capable of handling tasks like this so we can one day take over the family business.
And since Logan died, and Easton doesn’t want fill Rich’s shoes, I just really hope I don’t fuck this up.
The next morning, Easton and I are waiting at the gas station when I hear the rumbling of motorcycles grow louder. The sound echoes off the desert sand and vibrates in my chest. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Lynx front and center with the rest of them trailing behind him.
Grabbing my knife and gun from the side of the car door, I slip my gun into its holder and keep my knife in my hand.
I’m in a type of mood today. In the mood to spill some blood, but unfortunately, I don’t foresee that happening. Unless I’m lucky, but I suppose that’ll also make me unlucky.
Keeping the fingers crossed, though.
Lynx and the rest of the guys pull up, forming a circle around me and Easton.
“Morning.” Easton says to Aziel as he hops of the bike. “Late for your own job.” Easton laughs.
“Shut the fuck up.” Aziel flicks him off.
“Have you heard anything this morning?” Easton directs the question towards Lynx.
“Nope. Supposed to be here at ten.” Lynx checks his phone. “Fuckin’ better not have stood me up.”
“Nah.” Aziel says, taking out a cigarette.
I lean back against the BMW and light my own cigarette. Fuck, I’ll be so mad if we came here for nothing.
We sit around for what feels like an hour, even though it’s probably only about ten minutes, when we start to hear the rumble of a truck.
In the middle of nowhere, this is a good spot for them to do their trade off. No one comes down this road unless they’re asking for trouble. Deserted about five miles in each direction, this tiny abandoned gas station is home to many illegal dealings.
Three conversion vans come into view, dust billowing around them as they speed through the gravel road.
“That’ll be them.” Lynx grumbles, getting off his bike and standing in a line with the rest of The Seven.
The roll to a stop, and a massive gust of dust clouds our vision from them. Once the dust settles, I watch as twelve men hop out of the vehicle.
Santiago, the boss, stands at the front and shakes hands with Lynx. “Good to see you.”
“You, too.” Lynx says. “It’s been a while.”
“Too long.” Santiago nods. “How have things been on this side of the border?”
“We’re keeping things steady.”
Santiago looks over at Easton. “Easton Malone. You’ve caused quite a ruckus up north.”
Easton steps forward and shakes hands with Santiago. “Gotta weed out the snakes and all that.”
They both laugh at that.
“Sanders has always been questionable.”
“No need to question those that are scum of the fucking earth.” Easton growls.
I don’t blame him. That son of a bitch killed Logan, and I’d do it over and over again if I had the opportunity.
Santiago lifts his eyebrows.
“So, this is what we’ve got. Three hundred for you. Daewoo, Baretta’s , and AR-15. Top of the line, the quality is fucking great.”