"A lot of bikes lined up." Jax squinted over his shoulder, counting the Harleys by twos.
He and Jared were supposed to have a two-on-two meeting to discuss a sit-down in Colombia, South America, at the source of the cocaine and Mayhem's money, the home base of Hernán Suarez's cartel. Jax had walked away from the first phone discussion with Mayhem, believing there would be only the four of them on the grounds, not just in the room. Mayhem wasn't playing by the rules. Why wasn't he surprised?
The door opened, and a gruff man mirrored Jared in too many ways. Eerie as hell as Jax took in the guy's dark hair and dark eyes. Jared Gone Wrong had a salt-and-pepper five o'clock shadow and wore his leather vest that the bikers called their "cut" with the Mayhem insignia on the chest. The title of president was stitched high on his right side, and he held his hand out to Jared. "Welcome to Mayhem. Hawke."
"Jared." Boss Man met Hawke's grip. They shook, and Jared stepped aside and gestured toward Jax. "That's Jax."
Jax stepped into the cool shadow of the compound's front entryway and shook Hawke's hand as well, expecting a challenging fight in the grip, but the honest handshake was steadfast. "Nice to meet you."
"Before you're invited in, respectfully, I'd like you to unload your clips and barrels. Don't care if you keep them on you. But the bullets go in the bucket."
Out of the corner of Jax's eye, he caught Jared's jaw flexing.
Boss Man shook his head. "Your house, your rules. I'm always clear, but maybe you didn't understand when we spoke before. There's a lot of bikes out here, and the only ones involved today are me and my guy, you and your guy."
Hawke crossed his arms and took a step back. "There's three others here. And no, I didn't take that away from our conversation. Don't take that as any disrespect. My vice president, my sergeant at arms, and my treasurer. They're here. I want them here. It will go a long way. The rest of them are watching the ball game back in the garage. They have no idea what's happening, and I don't want them to yet. Take that for what it's worth. My head is on a platter if this comes out before it should."
Jared seemed to like Hawke's honesty, and he stepped forward. "We're not unloading."
Hell, they weren't going to make it in the hall. Maybe Jax wouldn't have to worry about dealing with this job. Unarmed and outnumbered in a gang compound? Seems to Jax that they should've brought their own backup. Not that Parker didn't have a tracker on their vehicle and know their exact moves, and there was a team waiting close by if anything went wrong. Still, outnumbered was outnumbered, and this was lesson number one in diplomatic relations: You don't always fucking get what you want.
"Don't shoot anyone." Hawke turned down the dark hall, and they followed as the heavy door slammed and locked behind Jax.
Maybe lesson number one was actually don't make the first demand. Mayhem needed them. Jared could take their contract and money or not. He wasn't hard-pressed.
They wound through the dark hall with the Mayhem insignia on the walls and stale beer and cigarettes staining the air. It reminded Jax of his days in shitty bars after escaping basic training. There'd been no money and lots of stress to blow off. The place stunk like BO, sex, drunken nights, and forgotten memories.
Finally, the hall opened into a main room much larger than Jax expected, filled with pool tables, darts, a foosball table, and a long, fully stocked bar. Draft taps lined the top near a sliding glass door enclosing an outdoor patio the size of a parking lot. Barbecues and metal coolers sat near a raised platform with trash cans and beer kegs strewn at random.
"Through here." Hawke gestured as they cut across the pool table room and came to an ornately carved double wood door. Hawke banged his fist on a giant knocker as he walked past, and they continued through another carved door into a room next to the one Hawke banged on.
Once inside, an adjoining door opened, and three men walked in from the other room. Hawke made quick introductions, explaining who Jax and Jared were, then ticked off names. Tex was the sergeant at arms, Johnny was a vice president, and Ethan was the treasurer.
They took seats at the table, and Hawke eyed his men. His passing glance was a firm reminder that Mayhem was to remain a united front. Interesting to pick up on a slight disagreement in the ranks.
Johnny reacted the most. The other two didn't change their slouch when the VP cleared his throat as though signaling it was time to get down to business.
Hawke scowled at Johnny. "This is how we'd like it to—"
"And I appreciate how you'd like things to go," Jared cut off Hawke. "You gave us intel before we arrived. Distribution plans, financials, potential replacement partners, and the ideal buyouts. I know what you'd like."
Hawke's lips tightened, and Tex shifted to keep Johnny in his peripheral.
No one in Mayhem had to say who their problem child was as Johnny crossed his arms and groused.
Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe we—" His glare started with Hawke but ended on Jared—"haven't been briefed on your ideal situation."
Boss Man inched forward, challenging the room.
Hawke ignored Johnny and met Jared's eye. "Our ideal situation is out of the coke game with minimal financial loss and no body count. Does anybody care to amend that?"
Johnny's lip curled. "Minimal financial loss is vague as fuck."
"Johnny, shut your goddamn mouth." Tex turned in his chair and shook his head. "It was a club vote. Out of the drug business. The monetary impact at this point doesn't matter worth shit if we're being honest."
"We're just gonna let these assholes watch out for our bottom dollar?"
"Like Tex said, my friend, watch your goddamn mouth and show a little fucking respect for our guests," Hawke growled.
The only one who hadn't weighed in on the money—or at all—was the treasurer, and Jax wondered what the silent guy was thinking. No reaction, and Ethan didn't even seem interested. "What about you? Everybody has an opinion but you."
Ethan's brows went up toward the bandana that tied back his long hair, and he leaned back as though this were the first time he'd been asked. He pulled a pack of smokes from his back pocket then lit a cigarette. Two long drags later, he let the second cloud of smoke curl from his nostrils. "My interests lie in the longevity of my club. Our membership has spoken, leaders have voted, and it's our job to listen to you and protect Mayhem at all costs."
"Spoken like a true politician." But Jax liked what he said because, through all that hot air and cautious wording, Ethan wanted to stop selling drugs and listen to Titan.
"The Suarez cartel has agreed to meet two from Titan and two from Mayhem. That's it. Was supposed to be like this meeting. But now we have a decision." Jared cracked his knuckles. "Who's it going to be? Hawke and who?"
"Me," Johnny answered as though he'd known the question was coming.
Tex's mouth had only half opened to volunteer, and Ethan eyeballed the two men. Obviously, he wasn't going to volunteer, but there were internal politics at play.
Jared motioned Jax to the door as he stood. "We'll give you a few minutes to hammer out who."
Diplomacy 101 was boring unless a person knew the players and their gossip. Jax followed Jared out of the meeting room as tensions escalated. When the door shut, they both just shook their heads. Neither would say a word aloud—no telling if the place was bugged—but they were in agreement. Mayhem should have had their shit straight before they called in Titan. And Jax wondered if he was paranoid or if it felt as though Johnny had the bead on only one person accompanying Hawke?
The meeting-room door swung open, and Hawke and Tex stood there. "Johnny's your number-two man." Tex pushed by Jared, and Jax and didn't bother turning his head when Tex grumbled, "Don't let that greedy motherfucker screw this up."
CHAPTER NINE
Seven decided when Victoria first closed on her house that the best part about having a best friend with a cutesy house was that it made for a terrific crash pad to talk about cutesy things. Or when Mayhem life became
too dark or heavy with requests she wouldn't touch, she liked to hide at Victoria's place. That same cutesy house could take the edge off of ugly topics. Anything unpleasant was made entirely bearable by Victoria's lemony-yellow wall color and white wainscoting.
She'd made sure that Sidney had more than adequate help this afternoon at work. Extra hands coupled with the miserable weather meant her coffee shop would see less foot traffic. Normally, that was a complaint, but today, it was a great thing. Hawke had laid down the law and demanded that she go to Colombia. Seven couldn't fold enough hand towels at The Perky Cup or blankets at her home to feel in control of that situation.
So she'd done what anyone in her position would do. She'd grabbed her girlfriend Adelia, nabbed an obscene amount of cookies, and banged on her friend's door. Victoria had cleared her schedule for the afternoon and promised to be there when Seven and Adelia arrived, ready to offer no-bullshit advice after Seven had texted four simple words. I need my passport.
That had been followed by a slew of texts that summarized how she wanted to strangle Hawke.
"We're here. Anyone home? Life crisis occurring," Seven hollered as she inhaled the rich aroma of coffee. "Is Ryder here too? Ryder! I'm having a moment."
His laughter filtered from the kitchen, and Seven had no idea if that was good or bad. Maybe he shouldn't be involved. The Delta sniper man was no holds barred, like his wife. A Victoria-Ryder combo delivering the straight truth might have been more than Seven could stomach as the clock ticked down to boarding an international flight to drug-dealer dreamland.
"I'm up here," Victoria called from upstairs.
"Your husband is laughing at me."
"Lovingly," he added, laughing harder.
"I'm headed to a cartel-infested country. Where's the compassion?" Seven started up the stairs as Adelia chuckled. "Not you too."
"No drama here. Seven is totally handling this fine."
"I don't even want to know how you'll fare." Ryder's Australian accent was deceptively alarming. "Good luck. Nice knowing you."
Seven laughed to herself as they trudged up the stairs. "What a little Aussie ass."
"Shoot." Victoria shoved the last of her sheets into the linen closet and slammed the door shut. "You got here before I thought you would."
Seven rolled her eyes. "Jeez, things must be worse than I thought they were if you're shoving laundry into a closet before I get here."
"Shut your face, sweetheart. You know it's not like that."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire."
"Okay, fine. But wouldn't this conversation be easier if I didn't have unfolded laundry for Seven to stare at instead of focusing on important things?" She looked at Adelia. "Right? We're here to talk some of this out. Figure out how you're going to stay sane and safe. Just swing by Colombia and come on back. It's a lovely place to visit. A couple nice spas…"
Right. That was what she'd be doing—visiting a spa. Had she been to a spa before? No. Not unless they could dye or pierce her, and then they wouldn't be called a spa.
Adelia walked past both of them and leaned against the wall. "It's ridiculous that Hawke wants you to go down there. You're not Johnny's babysitter."
Victoria headed toward her bedroom. "Are we sure that's the point?"
They moved into the master bedroom, where Seven sprawled in the middle of the king-size bed and Victoria paced at the foot. Adelia crisscrossed her legs in a side chair and pulled a blanket that had been draped over the top around her.
Whether Adelia was cold or not, Seven didn't care. She was just glad that the one folded blanket in the room was now unfolded and wrapped around her friend. Because it hadn't been folded the way Seven would've wanted it, and she wouldn't have cared unless her stress level was at a ten. Today, it was hovering around an eleven, and the entire time they would've been talking, that was all Seven would've thought about.
Victoria stopped and reached for the paper bag that Seven clung to. "What snacks did you bring for brain food?"
"Cookies. I figured the sugar would help."
She dug around then pulled out a peanut butter cookie and took a bite. Then after a buttery, approving sigh, she turned to Adelia. "What's your dad say?"
Tex had adopted Adelia, but he was the father she claimed. Her blood brother, Javier Almeida, even visited them often as if Tex were his relation too. But Tex was currently the talk of Mayhem—not for his family, but because he wasn't accompanying Hawke.
Not all members knew of the trip, but the ones who did weren't sure the current second-in-command was acting his role.
"Not much to me."
Tex didn't talk much, but he conveyed a lot with looks. "Nothing about Johnny? Unrelated to this?"
"Nothing other than the normal bitching that no one should be groomed to run Mayhem since birth."
Seven sighed. "So the norm."
"Yup."
The gossip from a few chatty old ladies had been that Johnny was antsy for the gavel but his face was falling too deep in the white powder. Seven couldn't see one over the other. It was hard to see fault in friends and family.
The treasurer, Ethan, made more sense to her. If someone was going to talk money, it should be the money guy. But if she had to choose between Johnny and Tex, she would choose Tex. Though nobody had asked her.
"Do you think your dad should go?" Seven asked Adelia.
"Over Johnny? Fuck yes. He's one line away from snorting his last brain cell away."
"How am I missing this? And I'm not saying that Tex shouldn't be the one to go. I'm just saying maybe I have blinders on when it comes to him." Not that it would surprise her. "I don't even know if he wants me to babysit Johnny. Hawke hasn't said a word other than 'get on the plane' and 'we have your hotel room booked.'"
Victoria tapped her teeth in thought. "Maybe it's Jax that Hawke wants the ability to tap into."
Adelia giggled. "We should clarify that. Did you mean tap Jax or something more innocent, like converse with Jax?"
Seven groaned. "Could we not talk about tapping Jax?"
"God, what is he? One hundred percent full-blooded hot Italian male?" Adelia fanned herself. "I think it's the hair. Real dark and just long enough to hold on to."
"Oh my God." Seven pulled a pillow over her face. "How about we avoid discussing everything like that? Please?"
"I'd tap Jax. Over and over and over—"
"Adelia!"
She erupted into a fit of laughter. "And over."
"Would you shut up?" Seven ripped the pillow off her face and sat up. "I do not want to hear that."
"You can't lie and say he's not smoking hot."
Even Seven's best snake eyes were no match for Adelia laughing, and she turned to Victoria, who had rolled her lips together and was trying not to laugh also.
"Come on. You're married. Jax can't be hot. Nobody can be hot but the Australian downstairs."
"Actually, I'm upstairs and searching for something." Ryder walked by with a shit-eating grin on his face. "But yeah, if you were to ask me, I'd say the guy's not bad looking. If you could duct tape his mouth shut. The jackass."
Victoria and Adelia burst out laughing, and Seven groaned for what felt like the thousandth time, dropped back on the bed, and grabbed the pillow to cover her face again. "Can we not talk about Jax? This is supposed to be about Colombia." Carefully, she peeled the pillow from her face and peeked out to see the three of them watching her. "What?"
Ryder shook his head. "Oh, Seven."
Seven's eyes bugged. "What?"
"You have it bad, don't you?"
"Oh, for the love of—" Seven chucked the pillow at Ryder. "I'm here for a very serious conversation."
Ryder caught the pillow and stopped joking. "Okay, very serious conversation. Hawke wants Titan down there. He has hired us for a very pretty penny to stay neutral. It's obvious to the entire world that you and Jax have a"—he tilted his head—"connection. Your first loyalty is assumed to be Mayhem. Hawke would never question that. If
Titan Group was to ever say or do anything that would endanger the club, you would know first."
Seven's lips parted, but her thoughts hadn't come up with the rebuttal that she was automatically prepared to give. "You think Hawke wants me to screw Jax for information?"
Ryder shrugged. "I don't know the guy."
Seven's eyes dropped to Adelia.
Adelia shook her head. "No way. If he wanted that, he would just say it. And then expect you to slap him."
Seven's gaze went to Victoria then Ryder and back to Victoria. "So then what? I'm not there to keep an eye on Johnny but rather Jax? I don't like the idea of spying on him."
"Then don't," Victoria said.
"But listen to what you just said," Adelia pointed out. "You just chose somebody you don't know above the MC."
"No, I didn't," Seven shot back defensively. "That's a strong accusation." Though all Adelia had done was repeat back what Seven had implied. She rubbed her temples. "Look, Jax is a friend. I've always been loyal to my friends."
A few awkward seconds sifted by before Ryder waved goodbye and left with a couple of cookies.
Seven took her own cookie out of the bag. "What's the final decision on Hawke's motives?"
"Who knows?" Victoria volunteered first. "If Hawke asks you any questions that you don't feel comfortable answering, you don't. Nothing that's any different than normal."
"Why does this feel different than normal?"
Adelia's face softened. "Because, sweetie, you two are…" Her voice trailed off as Victoria sat on the edge of the bed. "Opposites. But you have a vibe."
"A vibe?" Seven shook her head. "Nope. That's what Victoria has. The little sex toy fiend."
Victoria laughed. "A connection. Chemistry. The more you deny it to us, the more we're confident you two have that thing. Oh, hey." She reached for her phone on the nearby dresser. "I need Colby Winters's phone number. Do you have it?"
Surprised at the change of topic, Seven shook her head. "No."
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