Jax

by Cristin Harber

  Which summed up Jax's dislike for gangs in general. Everyone would die at the end. "This is some heavy shit, Seven."

  "That's why I said to meet me in person."

  "Why bring this to me?"

  Her gaze dropped. "Let's leave the whys of what Mayhem does out of it. Do you do what they're talking about? Contract negotiation with the scum of the earth?"

  "Usually, we're negotiating at the behest of a government. But we do work between organizations that"—Jax extended his hand as if a non-offensive explanation might fall from his fingertips, but none arrived, and she waited in silence for him to continue—"could end up in a bloodbath."

  "Right." Seven clearly seemed to understand the stakes.

  Her poker face was solid, and that was worth remembering. Jax picked up his smoothie and stirred the concoction with the straw, deciding on the best explanation. The formality was unexpected, and Jax had to give credit where credit was due. Mayhem was trying to avoid chaos in the drug world. Anytime there was a significant shift in the way cartels did business, a bloody fallout followed. "Back to you. Why did Mayhem send you to have this conversation with me?"

  "Because they trust Victoria. Victoria trusts Titan. Since she's not available, and this is time sensitive…" Seven shrugged. "I'm her best friend, very close to them, and I obviously have a few of my own connections."

  He thought back to last night and wondered who all from Mayhem had taken notice of them. "It can't wait, huh?"

  She shrugged. "Sometimes I just do what I'm told."

  He chuckled and took a long drink of the smoothie. "Call me doubtful."

  A seriousness shadowed her gaze. "I want this to happen, Jax. For Mayhem to pull out of distribution and drugs, and I would think you'd tell me the truth."

  Her sincerity sliced through the room like a razor. "I'll always tell you the truth. I promise."

  "Can Titan be a neutral negotiator? Can you make it happen?" She paused. "For me?"

  Flashbacks from the previous night, including seeing Deacon Lanes in the parking lot, were the only things that kept Jax from reassuring her they could. Deacon was a domestic chaos puppet master. He coordinated the permissions and power struggles between gang leaderships through their government-sanctioned distribution of narcotics. These were the types of deals that funded black ops all over the globe. "How deep are you still in with Mayhem?"

  "Still?" Her back straightened. "You sound like you think you know."

  Years ago, Jax had first met Seven when Victoria had been abducted. Seven was an intel source on all things Mayhem. But before they'd trusted her word, Titan's IT maverick, Parker Black, had done a background check. The file hadn't been shared with the whole team, but the gist had been.

  Seven was the daughter of incarcerated Cullen Blackburn, notorious founder and first president of Mayhem. Sweet Hills authorities had confirmed that she was friendly with Mayhem but not in the MC life. That was all Jax knew.

  "Tell me what I should know," he said.

  Seven sighed. "Before my father left my mom, I thought he was the whole world. He let me wear his cut when no one would dare touch it. He had this tough-guy beard. Man, I thought he was so badass. And me?" She laughed sadly, shaking her head. "On the back of his bike, I thought I was coolest."

  He didn't want to say much about the man who'd founded Mayhem, but Jax hated how distant she sounded. "Look, if you don't want to—"

  She shook her head. Disappointment skewed the soft dreaminess that he expected to see when she told a story. "But I realized he had another lover, another family, and they were more important. They were his reason to wake and sleep. Hell, even to breathe."

  Mayhem. "I'm sorry."

  "My mom never had a chance and loved him so much." Seven flinched. "My dad banged a lot of pussy, and my mom either turned a blind eye or didn't care. Right or wrong, there was an expectation for what to put up with as an old lady. But it was the MC that finally broke her heart. He loved Mayhem more than us. Mom never totally let go, but she was eventually done."

  Jax didn't know what to say, but he could almost relate to her mom's loss in the oddest of ways. The government had broken his heart, but still he served for the greater good, despite what they'd done to his life. Different, though somehow the same.

  "When you ask how I'm wrapped up in Mayhem, you should know that I'm theirs," Seven whispered. "They can't get rid of me, and I don't want them to. I can't stand them, and they know that too. I'll forever be their twisted royalty. They call me their princess. They've fucked my life. It's a strange, complicated, fucked-up dichotomy. I struggle with that, and that's cool because that's how family is."

  His worries about Deacon Lanes subsided. If anything, he'd learned more about Seven in the past ten minutes than he had in two years. He found that her strength and raw honesty added layers of respect to what he'd already had for her.

  She pressed her lips together as stress lines etched across her forehead. "Will you help get Mayhem out of the drug game? Can you bring this to Jared?"

  The answer was an easy yes until he thought about how Deacon might be involved. Jax had gone years without telling Jared about his past that a CIA sweep team erased from existence.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It depends. But that was hard to say, and Jax wanted the truth. Could anyone who worked with Deacon do such a thing? Or should he assume Seven's every word was a lie?

  She reached for her coffee, drank a long sip, then eased back onto the couch while he made a cognitive effort not to shatter his smoothie glass. She had no idea what she was asking of him.

  "If the answer is no, a simple response works. No need to get growly." Disappointment tightened on her forehead. "It falls in line with manners, so I can see how you might be confused. Remember those things we were texting about?"

  Jax cleared his throat. There was only one end to this conversation. He had to believe she would tell the truth. "How do you know Deacon Lanes?"

  Her honest eyes showed no recollection, and he prayed his instincts were correct.

  "Who's that?" she asked.

  "He's the big black dude you were talking to in the parking lot last night." Jax focused on keeping his voice even. "Size of a linebacker. Shaved head. Goatee."

  Recognition dawned, but the reaction wasn't a pleasant realization. "I don't know that asswipe's name."

  Relief edged into his thoughts. "Does he have anything to do with this?"

  "Look, Jax." Seven shifted on the couch, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "You're asking me about club business, and I've been sent here as a messenger with a request."

  "Deacon Lanes is a hard limit." Though that was for him, not Titan. Jax was speaking out of turn, which Jared would kick his ass for. "Who is he to you?"

  Her face hardened, and it was the first time Jax had ever seen Seven go cold. "I think he's the breeder of bad decisions, but I don't know him. He's involved in Mayhem's business, so that's my personal opinion and nothing that should weigh in on your factor in bringing this to Titan Group."

  Spoken like someone who knew the cost of consequences that she couldn't share. Jax had to decide the answer to only one question. Did he trust her? For some reason, almost. He trusted few, and that was a lesson taught in a way he couldn't forget. But he would bring the job opportunity back to Jared. "I'll get back to you."

  "Thanks." They sat in silence until she picked up the rock again.

  "I'm doing it." He tossed up his hands in faux defense. "Don't stone me."

  "You rock, Jax." She tossed it carefully.

  He caught it but hadn't seen the meaning coming. He hadn't been playing before. Yes, he had awards and accommodations for military service. But this was a different gesture, and it struck him as… heartfelt.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  What a question. Deacon caused instant blood pressure problems, but then she tossed rocks wrapped in happiness.

  "The smoothie?" Her gaze dropped to his empty drink. "Miraculous wonder recipe,
guaranteed to cure what ails you."

  "Right, the smoothie." As if life were that simple… though his headache was gone. Jax nodded curtly. "A lot better. Okay. I'll get going."

  "Thanks, Jax. This means a lot to me."

  "No big deal." Awkwardness hung between them after swinging between flirting and drug cartels. Jax thought about Deacon and his dead wife, and who knew what was on Seven's mind? He didn't know what he was supposed to do now. High-five her? Give her a hug? "Do you ever win the rock?"

  She watched him toss it in the air and catch it. "Not really."

  Jax reached across the desk and took her hand, wrapping her fingers around the rock in his palm. "You rock also. I'll call you after I talk to Boss Man."

  With that, Jax let himself out. He drained the last of his smoothie as he passed the kitchen. Then he filed down the hallway and paused near the counter to drop his smoothie glass in the dirty-dish bin.

  Sidney ambled over, quizzically sizing up Jax. "That hangover smoothie is a wonder drug, isn't it?"

  Truthfully, he liked that Seven worked with protective people. It made for a good team, something he should remember more often. "You have a recipe that works. Tell the owner to patent that stuff. They'd make a killing."

  With a twist of confusion, Sidney chuckled. "All right, bro."

  Jax's brow furrowed. "What's that mean?"

  "You just left her. But I'll let Seven know."

  The Perky Cup was Seven's? She didn't get the awards because she gave them out. He looked around at all the responsibility and success surrounding him then back to Sidney. "Who's the lady in the picture?"

  "Who?"

  "In the office. The lady with the dollar bill and the other—"

  "Oh, Taini?" Sidney nodded, connecting the dots that Jax didn't understand. "That's Seven's mom. You never heard that story?"

  Jax shook his head.

  "Taini's a sweetheart. She opened this place because she figured that she and Seven would always have a place to sleep and something to eat if things ever got too tough. I think Seven worked every job in Sweet Hills to buy her mom out. While dealing with Johnny. Like a retirement to save her."

  "From what?"

  "Working to death. Taini had a stroke about the same time Seven and Johnny were through."

  "Oh, I thought her mom—"

  "She's still kicking. Taini's badass. But she needs a lot of care, and that's on Seven."

  Jax ran his hand into his hair. How much responsibility did this woman have? "Why are you telling me all this?"

  "Because if that was a social call, you should know who you're dealing with."

  "Who am I dealing with?"

  Sidney folded his arms and studied Jax. "Someone I'm not sure you deserve."

  "Why's that?"

  "Because she's a sweet, pierced, hair-dyed saint."

  Jax's brows arched. "Are you and her…"

  Sidney shook his head. "Nah. I'm happily committed to the love of my life and his unending need to troll for news on Twitter."

  "Sounds like a happy life."

  Sidney motioned toward Seven's office. "Which is what she deserves. Did you want me to mention you liked the smoothie?" he asked, making his scrutiny of Jax's incoming answer clear.

  "Nah. I'll tell her myself."

  Things he'd learned about Seven—she was a business owner, Mayhem princess, and caretaker of her mother. Did she ever get a rest? And no wonder she'd slapped him. Maybe she wanted to sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The pastry dough was almost at the perfect consistency. The sugar-scented air was as relaxing as kneading the giant bowl of scone mix for the batch of Main Street weekend snackers.

  Normally, baking was Seven's version of self-care that she could control, unlike when she felt urges to fold blankets and linens a specific way. Some people did yoga. Seven contemplated piercings, strayed to a new hair color, and made pastries to relax. Oh, and coffee. She never stopped thinking about coffee. Whoever said that working on the same task for ten thousand hours would make a person an expert might have been right, but she also believed in such thing as status quo, and she didn't want to plateau. Complacency was boring.

  "Seven," Sidney called from the front counter. "Phone call."

  Her phone had rung a minute ago, but she was elbows deep in dough. One person had called in sick, and Seven and Sidney were slammed, prepping and preparing for the afternoon crowd to hit. "I'll call back. Can you take a message?"

  "He said you're not answering your cell and it's important," Sidney called again.

  Well, shit. Had that last call been Jax? Seven had set a special ring to alert her if he called, scone-dough hands or not. She rushed over to the wall phone, hands covered in batter, and went to grab the handset but decided to peck the speakerphone with her nose instead then turned to the sink. "Got it, Sidney."

  The Perky Cup might have world-class coffee, but they still had a phone system straight out of the 1980s. No one used the landlines except for the vendors, and The Perky Cup's hold button was less than reliable.

  "'Kay," Sidney said. "You are now on the phone with the goddess of blueberry scones. You can speak."

  Seven froze halfway to the sink and waited for Jax's reaction. On any other call, that would've been funny. But Jax, in all his moody seriousness, likely didn't find it funny. Sidney clicked off, and Seven groaned, ready to apologize. "He didn't know—"

  "Good thing you're talking to the god of we're going to do your job," a deeply masculine, non-Jax voice boomed through her kitchen.

  Oh, fuck. She lunged for the phone's handset, doughy hands and all. "Well, this is all kinds of awkward."

  His grumbly laughter met her ears. "Jared Westin. We've not spoken on the phone before."

  "Nope." She resisted the urge to wipe her hands off. It wouldn't have done much good, and she would've still been stuck with buttery, doughy hands plus the shitty benefit of an apron that needed a heavy washing. "I generally keep my goddess-like qualities to myself the first time on the phone."

  "Mm-hmm."

  "And you probably don't work your god status into normal conversations. Maybe we should start over?" Seven had no idea how to handle a business call with Mr. Titan himself.

  He laughed. "You'd be surprised how often I drop that reminder."

  Actually, she could see that.

  "Now," Jared continued, "you, personally, want Titan Group to do this job. Yes or no?"

  He asked in a way that was more of an order than a question, and she almost wanted to snap to attention and salute him instead of saying yes. "Me, personally? Yes. I want Mayhem to stop."

  "Mm-hmm. Okay."

  "Can you do what people think you can?"

  That time his laughter wasn't grumbly; it was almost amused. Or maybe he found the question comical. "More than that, Seven."

  She'd had few interactions with Ryder's boss's boss. But the stories she'd heard were whoa. And then there was Sugar, Jared's wife. She wasn't necessarily a fan of Seven's. They'd butted heads, but Seven got the impression that Sugar butted heads with almost everybody at first, and Seven appreciated that apprehensive quality. Sugar seemed very Mayhem-like, protective over her people. "Are you going to do it?"

  "I talked to Ryder and Victoria."

  Seven's eyes widened. "On their don't-talk-to-us-unless-people-are-dying honeymoon?" Ryder had sworn up and down that, wherever they were going, the place was secluded enough that no one on the face of the earth would ever be able to get ahold of them, lest there was an emergency. The current situation, in Seven's mind, did not constitute an emergency, and the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt her best friend's honeymoon on day one. Did that not make her the worst best friend on earth? Yeah, it kind of did.

  "You had a big ask, sweet pea."

  Right, right. "And the final decision is…" She bit her lip and clung to the handset, feeling the drying, sticky dough squished between her fingers.

  "Then I talked to Jax."

  Ugh.
No telling how that had gone. "You know you have a thing for drawing out suspense?"

  Tick, tock. He laughed. Boss Man was one for theatrics, wasn't he?

  "They all agree with you," he finally said. "We'll help. You can let Mayhem know that I'll be in touch."

  She opened her mouth to thank him, but the call clicked in her ear as Jared disconnected. Seven dropped the scone-dough-covered phone and spun with her hands in the air, squealing in delight.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The row of motorcycles in front of the Mayhem compound made Jax uneasy. This entire job wasn't what he was cut out for, given his disdain for gangs in general, even if they went by club and had pretty girls that fascinated him as a distractible decoy.

  Jax was semi-convinced Jared had assigned him to partner on this project as punishment, and it had nothing to do with sharpening his skills or his ability to establish a working relationship with Seven.

  Boss Man wasn't wrong, though. Diplomatic relations weren't his strong suit. Diplomacy with the criminal sect only served to irritate the piss out of him and grate his bad attitude from generally unfriendly to watchfully distrustful.

  "You ready, brother?" Jared glanced his way before he dropped his fist against the door.

  The setting sun beat down on Jax's back as the faint odor of motor oil and stale beer promised what was in store inside. "Yeah."

  Whether he was or not didn't matter since Boss Man had already pounded on Mayhem's door and security cameras had them on lock since the moment they'd pulled into the parking lot.

  Mayhem supposedly did custom auto and bike work and some repairs for locals. Jax was sure it was a front, though. Mayhem's reputation for turning out custom stunners had attracted big money normally spent in New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. At least that was what Jax had read. He didn't know or care, mostly because he didn't believe it was their source of income as much as they purported, simply a cover for everything illegal.

  Plus, half the auto body shop seemed filled with MC bikes, not moneymaking repairs. There wasn't a row of minivans waiting for oil changes or sedans needing to have dings buffed out. No soccer mom would schedule an appointment there after a drive-by glance of the chain-link fences with barbed wire and skulls marking the entrance.