Jax

by Cristin Harber

  SEVEN: Well, now that you're awake, get up and meet me at The Perky Cup.

  His head banged with the dull echo of too many old memories and maybe a few too many drinks. It wasn't quite a hangover because he was too stubborn to admit he ever got one of those. But he didn't feel like getting out of bed.

  JAX: No

  SEVEN: No one ever taught you manners?

  This coming from a girl who slapped him and hung out with a biker gang?

  SEVEN: Guess not.

  JAX: It's rude to call out someone's manners.

  SEVEN: Are you going to meet me at The Perky Cup?

  JAX: No

  She didn't respond. What the hell did she want to talk about? Apologize for the slap? They'd moved past that when she had wrapped her arm under his suit coat. Talk about their feelings? Not her style, either. Why wasn't she responding? Oh… That was on him, being rude for calling her rude. He grumbled and rewrote his message to make up for his faux pas, rolling his eyes even as he hit Send.

  JAX: No *thank you*

  SEVEN: haha

  JAX: Now can I go back to sleep?

  SEVEN: Sure. But one more question?

  JAX: What's up?

  SEVEN: Are you a stubborn asshole (a) all the time, (b) some of the time, or (c) most of the time?

  He chuckled. Not all the time, but he kept that to himself.

  JAX: (d) none of the above. I'm sunshine and gumdrops. Haven't you noticed?

  JAX: And if you're dying to apologize for slapping me, a text message will do.

  SEVEN: That will never happen, Buster.

  Amused, he tucked the pillow behind him, rereading her text.

  JAX: Who says Buster?

  SEVEN: Who doesn't know when to say YES? Get your ass to The Perky Cup, *Buster*.

  "You, last night, apparently." But that text he decided not to write.

  JAX: Fine. When?

  SEVEN: Now would be preferable, but I will give you a few to *politely* say goodbye to whoever your company is. Manners, Jax. They are very important. Be polite.

  SEVEN: Say things like 'that was fun.' 'You're pretty.' Don't bark or bite her. (Unless she asks…)

  He snort-laughed and could picture her deviously texting him about someone in his bed. Too bad he couldn't picture if Seven had her nips pierced.

  JAX: Jealous?

  SEVEN: Imagine the biggest eye roll I've ever given you. Now double it.

  He laughed again and lumbered himself out of bed.

  JAX: I'm alone, but I'll see you soon.

  And damned if she didn't make him grin despite how his head pounded.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Main Street in Sweet Hills, Iowa, was like what Jax imagined of an Americana painting come to life. It defined what he had sworn his life to protect the day he joined the navy and became a SEAL, though it'd been years since he'd felt more than a deadly machine. There'd been a time when small towns and small-business storefronts could stir him, and he could see why Sweet Hills lured his Delta teammate Ryder to call it home with his now-wife, Victoria.

  He had seen The Perky Cup as he drove by the day before, and the eclectic storefront matched Seven's personality with a hard-to-miss sign and window decorations.

  Jax opened the door, and it jangled with old country-store bells. Inside, the coffee shop was filled with lively decorations and signs, mismatched chairs, and tables combined with clashing coffee cups, glasses, and absurd plates and bowls, partnering with seamless effort. He liked it.

  Where was Seven sitting? He scanned the tables, and the Sunday crowd fit no set rule. A young couple with a baby sat in their Sunday best next to a guy who Jax was sure was a Mayhem gang member and his old lady. Tables were filled with every spectrum in between, but Jax didn't see Seven.

  "Hey, you."

  Jax pivoted, surprised to see her behind the counter. "I didn't expect you so fast."

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're working?"

  Truth was, he had no idea what Seven did for a living. Why hadn't he asked that before? All he knew of her were smiles and attitude, and that had been enough for him. Maybe not enough for her, and that was why he'd gone home alone. But he would've pegged her as… well, hell.

  If he'd never spoken to her before and just saw her across the room, Jax would have wagered that Seven would make a terrific art teacher. But knowing the full power of her sass and spark, he could see her as a litigator. Though she would have been fresh out of law school, and he wondered how many law firms in Iowa would hire a magenta-haired, obviously pierced new attorney. But seeing as her best friend was the deputy mayor and her affiliation with Mayhem would likely bring in many clients, maybe she would have been a hot commodity.

  He was positive law school hadn't been her calling, especially as she slung a hand towel off her shoulder, mopped the counter, then meticulously folded the towel, avoiding eye contact. "The coffee and crumpets aren't going to make themselves."

  Had he embarrassed her by questioning where she worked? Damn it. "This place reminds me of you." In addition to the décor, the coffee house smelled like sugar and caffeine. Both were intoxicating like her—vibrant and exciting. He inspected the pastries and muffins behind the glass then turned back to her at the counter. Even the cash register was colorful.

  "How do you like your coffee?" She finally met his gaze when she put her hands over the hand towel, pressing it to the counter and, maybe nervously, awaited his walk back. "It's on the house."

  Coffee normally would sound great, but the flare of the hangover he would never admit to made him hesitate. "How about…" What sounded good when he would rather be asleep? Jax ran a hand over his chin, thinking something cold and with sugar would help the small headache and lack of sleep.

  "Or not," she said, studying him. "What's wrong with you?"

  "Nothing." That he planned on sharing, that is.

  "Oh, you feel like crap, don't you?" She turned from the counter toward a blender. "I have a hangover cure."

  Jax pulled his poker face on. "I didn't say I have a hangover."

  "Oh, you do, Jaxxy, my dear." Playfully, she spun. "I have a killer smoothie that'll cure what ails you, whatever that is." Seven paused, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. "But you have to trust me. The color of it alone will be enough to trigger your gag reflex."

  "No, thanks."

  Seven tossed an amused look over her shoulder, challenging him to say no again, but she did seem to pick up on his thanks. "You're most welcome. 'Cause I'm still making it."

  Surrendering, he half grinned. "On one condition."

  "Sure." But that didn't slow her down any as she scooped powders and poured liquids into the blender. "And what's that?"

  "Never say Jaxxy again." He waggled his brows. "Deal?"

  The corners of her eyes crinkled. "Deal, so long as you drink the whole thing."

  He shook his head, eyeballing the green, goopy mess in the blender. "Really. I'm good."

  "This is for me, Jaxxy. I don't want to hear you bitch and moan while I have to talk to you."

  The corners of his lips quirked, denying his ability to negotiate. "Sounds selfish, princess."

  "You bet your ass, when I have to be." She played with her tongue stud for a second, turned back around, and flipped on the blender. "Since you don't have a hangover, I'll just put this baby on high." She turned the blender on to a louder mode. "Did you say something, Jaxxy? I can't hear you."

  Standing with an empty cup in her hand and a blender on high, Seven waited casually. He forced nonchalance as the blender ran out of things to crush and simply whirled and whined. Jax's head throbbed. Really, the girl knew how to torque the hell out of him. Standing there, hand on one hip, glass in the other, torturing him, she was hot as hell. Pinup girl material. Pouty lips and a come-at-me attitude.

  "I'll drink the whole thing for you, babe."

  Her tongue ran along the seam of her lips as her grin curled. A casual flip of the blender's switch afforded him quiet an
d sanity. Then Seven poured the concoction into the glass and made a quick cup of coffee. She walked to the end of the counter and called back, "Hey, Sidney? Can you cover the counter for me?"

  A guy in an apron came from a side door with a pile of muffins. "Sure thing." He stopped abruptly when he saw Jax as though it were impossible someone would walk in that he didn't know or expect could be there. "Hello, how are you?"

  That question clearly, but silently, sounded like "who are you?" Jax wasn't about to answer when he wasn't sure why he stood there or enjoyed the back-and-forth about the blender. "Hey there, man. I'm fine. Thanks."

  Seven popped in between their unspoken conversation. "Thanks, Sid."

  "Anytime." But Sid kept a watch on Jax as Seven smoothed her hand over another hand towel, put a straw in the smoothie, and shoved it in Jax's hand. Sidney turned and watched her folding the towel. "You sure you're good?"

  "As can be expected given my morning." She took her coffee and walked from behind the counter. "Let's go somewhere more private—start drinking."

  "Yeah, sure." Hesitantly, Jax tried a sip of the green smoothie when she wasn't looking. "Hey, this is solid."

  Sidney's level of enthusiasm at Jax's revelation was cautiously pleased. "She's a master behind the counter."

  "Noted." Jax took another long drink as he followed her, and they passed by the kitchen that smelled like foodie heaven. He wasn't hungover enough that The Perky Cup's kitchen turned his stomach. Not that he was hungover at all…

  Seven opened a door and led them into a small office. After he walked in, she shut the door behind them. The lights were low, with a desk lamp already on, and she didn't bother to flip on the overhead light switch.

  "That guy Sidney seems protective over you." Jax took in the close quarters of the office. Maybe it was the low light or perhaps the smoothie after all, but being alone with her in the quiet, he felt more settled.

  "Sidney knows everyone in town." She set down her coffee on the desk as Jax settled onto a couch.

  Seven was younger than him yet seemed years more responsible than anyone who looked her age. "Maybe that's it."

  "Maybe you come off as a grumbling jerkface at times. Ever think that over?" The light caught on the tiny pink jewels on her eyebrow, sparkling as she sipped her coffee.

  "Part of my charm."

  Her quiet laughter floated through the air still permeated by the scent of sugar, but her brow furrowed. "How old are you, Jax?"

  "Why?"

  "Because, when you sit back and relax, I'd say you're in your thirties, but when you scowl at the world, you don't have an age."

  "I'm timeless."

  "Ha." She took a much longer sip of her coffee. "No. I mean, you seem like you don't care if you die or not. So age doesn't matter."

  "Maybe we're both right."

  Seven moved to the office desk. "That's a little sad."

  "Story of my life, babe." Jax raised his brows. "You manage this place or something?"

  "Or something," she said. "I make a helluva cup of coffee. That's all you need to know."

  "Everyone says that."

  "But I really do. You should ask Ryder sometime."

  Maybe he would ask his Delta teammate more about Seven, though Ryder would likely tell him to back away from her. "You know, I haven't won Titan's Miss Congeniality award." If there'd been an award given out, it would have been "Most Likely to be Called a Dick," and his acceptance speech would've been concise. Deservedly so. Fuck you very much.

  "You don't need an award, silly. The Perky Cup gives out rocks." She tilted her head to a pile of rocks on the floor he hadn't noticed.

  Jax chuckled. "Sounds like my kind of employee incentive."

  Who knew Seven would work at a place where employees could throw rocks at each other?

  She eased off her chair and grabbed one, tossing it in the air and catching it in the other hand. Close quarters for a game of Stone Jax, but his head already hurt—or it had. But Seven sat back down with her rock. No award for him.

  What else had he missed in the office?

  Unlike the rest of the coffee shop, the office didn't seem like a place Seven would work. A picture of a woman on the desk caught his attention. The same lady was depicted in a grainy, old photo on the wall, holding a dollar bill. What had to be the same dollar bill was framed below the picture. "Who's the lady? The owner?"

  "Her name is Taini." Seven turned to the picture as if she hadn't noticed it before. "She's been having a challenging time the last few years after a stroke."

  "Everyone knows everything in this town about each other." Jax stirred the smoothie with his straw. "What kind of name is Taini?"

  "It has Native American origins." Seven's eyes narrowed as though he had missed an obvious piece of a puzzle. "What kind of name is Jax?"

  "Probably the easiest thing my ma could think to shout when she heard she was having a boy. It stood out on a block of Dons and Johns."

  "Your neighborhood was filled with porta-potty kids?"

  Her humor made him grin. "Guess so. But that was back in the day. Who cares? This place makes me realize I don't know much about you."

  She sucked her cheeks in thought. "I don't think you're always a jerkface."

  "Good to know, princess." He gave her a lingering once-over. "I don't think you're always… I'm coming up blank." Or at the very least, he was having a hard time thinking of an appropriate comparison.

  It was too dim to see her blush, but she ducked her chin as though she were. After a second that strung between them for miles, Seven regained her unaffected composure. "I slapped you. I think you can come up with at least one thing."

  The memory ran to his groin, and Jax rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, letting go with a slow breath. Her slap hadn't been just a no. It had been a hell no with style. She'd rejected his proposition, but he wasn't positive she was rejecting him.

  "Sweetheart, I liked that."

  Tension crackled in the few feet between them. The hairs on his skin stood as he waited to see what she would do next, what she would say, and how he would volley it back.

  "Don't flirt with me right now," she whispered. "I need a favor." She eased back onto the desk as though she owned the place and crossed her legs.

  "Isn't that the best time to flirt?"

  Seven rolled her eyes, but she smiled like the devil sipping sweet tea.

  "Careful, beautiful."

  A thick wave of magenta hair fell over her cheek, obscuring half her face. "Careful or what?"

  Her pink fucking hair was ridiculous but artistic, not too serious. She was like splashes of colors sprinkled with surprises—tongue stud, eyebrow jewels, and a name like Seven.

  Jax had no idea what to do about that. "You want to have that conversation right now?" He set the smoothie on the ground. "Because if you want to try again, I'll dole out whatever consequences we agree to."

  Seven's tiny, unexpected gasp made a shiver of anticipation roll through his muscles. Even if Jax hadn't been trained to pick up on microchanges in human behavior, he would've noticed how her breaths quickened despite her best effort to disguise the natural reaction. Jax wanted to feel her pulse, needed to know how far she would let him push her, how much she would trust him.

  "I need"—she let her lids sink shut long enough for him to want her eyes back on him—"to talk to you about Mayhem."

  Mayhem. That was like a cold waterfall thrown in his face.

  Mayhem Motorcycle Club. The MC. He didn't know much about the locals, but he'd learned a decent bit a couple years ago when Victoria had gotten herself caught up in their headache. Plus, they made national news on occasion when members were caught without an alibi for drug trafficking or when a chapter was tangled in a weapons or racketeering investigation. "Should've known. Not my favorite people."

  "Trust me, if I didn't need your help, we wouldn't be chatting now." Her grimace killed all dirty thoughts that had his blood running hot. "I can't believe I'm even doing th
is."

  "Then don't."

  "Thanks, Jax. You're making this so much easier." She crossed her arms and recrossed her legs before pushing away from the desk and moving to the couch. With her came the sweet scent of baked goods.

  Jax watched her chew the inside of her cheek and toy with her tongue stud. "Look, this is the deal. Mayhem's club president—his name is Hawke—came to me early this morning. They have decided to get out of a business that is short on profit and long on consequences."

  That wasn't anything he'd thought she was going to say. "Wait. What?"

  Seven became very still. "Hawke asked me to reach out to Titan. They need a partner dealing with the Suarez Cartel."

  Jax couldn't match the woman with the words. Listening to the name of a nefarious drug cartel pass over her lips made Jax feel as if he'd been pushed into the twilight zone. He needed more sleep—or another smoothie—to understand what she was saying.

  The eyebrow with the pink jewels lifted accusingly. "You have nothing to say?"

  "Not really." He blanked. "In what way does Mayhem need Titan?"

  A few more seconds of Seven assessing him passed before she apparently decided that it was okay to continue.

  "Mayhem has had a long-established relationship with the cartel, and without Hernán Suarez's permission for a peaceful transition, the repercussions are clear. All members of the MC—maybe their families and associates, depending on how pissed Suarez is—will be condemned to death. The cartel likely doesn't want it to end." Seven was casually dropping drug kingpin names and brutal real-life consequences.

  Jax blinked, still dumbfounded. "Likely, no."

  "Hawke thought Titan Group has the history or the ability to assist in… what might best be called a contract negotiation." Apparently, it was Seven's turn to look lost. "At least, that's what I was told. Who knew there could be such formalities to the process when everyone just wants to kill everyone else at the end, anyway?"