Jax

by Cristin Harber

  "Do you have Javier's?" Adelia asked about her brother.

  Seven's forehead pinched. "What? No, why would I have his phone number?"

  Victoria scrolled on her cell. "How about Roman Hart's number or Brock Gamble? Luke Brenner?"

  "No, why would I—Oh, because I have Jax's number."

  Neither of them said a word, but both let their wide eyes do the talking.

  Victoria scooted next to Seven on the bed. "I think we can drop the Jax part of this conversation, but I wanna say one more thing, and whether it entails him or not, that's your call."

  "Is this where you give me the just-say-no-to-drugs conversation, Mom? Because I think I'm acing that test."

  Victoria locked her arm around Seven's shoulders and hugged. "Remember that best friend necklace we had in eighth grade? And when I lost my side, I swore my life was harder than yours?" She shook her head. "We've had such a rough go sometimes, and through it all, really amazing things have come of it. Bianca and Nolan."

  "Don't make me cry." Tears brimmed at the thought of what a hard night that had been and how beautiful it had turned out. Those little babies had had no one, alone with overdosing parents. A mommy who'd died and a father who had given up custody to Seven. She hadn't thought it over when child protective services and a police officer had shown up at her door in the middle of the night with two babies and a bag of ill-fitting clothing.

  "Seven, I've never met anyone stronger, and there is nobody that I'd be prouder to call my best friend. But the amount of responsibility on your shoulders isn't fair, and sometimes I'm scared that you forget you're a person too."

  "I know that," she whispered.

  "I have no idea why you can't admit Jax is hot as fuck and you're into him when you easily run a business and support your parents and your adopted kids." Victoria squeezed her again. "I'm terrified that because our youth was taken away, you don't know how to enjoy the life that you have fought for and earned."

  "Holy shit, Victoria…" Seven sniffed. "I'll work on having fun. I'll try. I promise."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bianca and Nolan ran around the living room, revving their imaginary Harleys with bandanas tied around their hair and Gennita, or Glamma as they called her, calling out directional changes. Seven stared at her small carry-on bag, clothes precisely folded, and resisted the urge to take everything out and start again.

  "I can get you a handful of Xanax if you want, sugar pie," Gennita hollered down the hall. "I don't have to see you to know what you're doing."

  Seven cringed. I'm that predictable. "No thanks, Glamma."

  "Doctors wouldn't prescribe them if there wasn't a reason."

  Nothing she hadn't heard a thousand times before. If the worst thing that came from Seven's spikes of anxiety and out-of-control freak-outs were the all-consuming urge to fold clothes, she could handle that. Mostly.

  Mind over matter.

  That, and she didn't have the extra cash for prescriptions and doctor's appointments for herself. Plus, she had never been keen on the idea of taking pills in the first place. "Doctors prescribed coke once upon a time too."

  Gennita changed hats to Glamma. "Lemme hear those throttles."

  Bianca and Nolan roared.

  "How do those hogs feel? Too tight? Need any adjustments?"

  Seven walked into her living room to see both kids turning imaginary handlebars left and right, twisting their knuckles and testing their throttles, with Seven's tools strewn over the carpet. She teased Gennita with a perusing glance then a wink.

  "What? We had to make adjustments to our throttle cables." Glamma shined her nails against her jeans, preening in all of her Harley-riding glory. "Can't raise babies to rely on someone else."

  "I know, Glamma." She eased over to the woman about her mom's age, dressed in leather pants and a shirt that had "Sentenced to Life Behind Bars" written around motorcycle handle bars screen-printed over her chest. "That's why I trust their Glamma to raise them when I can't."

  Gennita dropped her nail-shining routine and softened. "I know, babe."

  "Do you want to stay here or at your place tonight?" Seven asked.

  "Here." Then she pursed her bright-red lips together as she rethought her answer. "Yeah, here. I don't trust Mack not to bother me all weekend. I told him I have the babies. But if the compound gets rip-roaring tonight, and his drunk a-s-s forgets and comes home? We'll be here."

  Seven groaned on her behalf. The guy was a few months postrecovery from pancreatitis. His decision to ignore doctor's orders on lifestyle changes did nothing but piss off Gennita.

  "I'll leave pizza money, and it'll be like a vacation."

  "No, honey. Don't waste your money because Mack can't handle a sip of water now and then. We're fine on PB and J and raviolis."

  The roar of real Harleys arrived outside Seven's house, and tears burned her eyes, threatening her makeup.

  "Don't do it," Gennita said in her best Glamma voice. "They're f-i-n-e if you are."

  So fucking true. Seven sucked in a breath as a Harley throttled outside, a calling card from Johnny to get a move on.

  "Okay, you guys. Remember how I said I had my trip?"

  Nolan made a big show of dismounting his bike, but Bianca simply went into her serious mode.

  "It's time for me to go, and you have nothing but Glamma time! So. Much. Fun!" She threw her arms around them. "Are you excited?"

  "Yeah!" Nolan squeezed Seven's neck, gagging her.

  "When will you be back?" Bianca asked for the twentieth time.

  "Two days, tops."

  "Promise?"

  She pulled the little girl into her arms, squishing her next to Nolan. "Swear. I promise. And you can't promise if you don't mean it."

  "What if you don't?"

  "I will."

  "What if you can't?"

  "I can." And with every ounce of Seven's being, she wanted to rid drugs from the streets so that little girls and boys never had to have the fear of parents leaving and dying like Bianca did. "But if for some reason I were late—like my flight was delayed—you'd be with Glamma, and you'd know exactly where I was and why."

  Bianca blinked but didn't say anything.

  Fucking hell. Screw Mayhem; Seven wasn't going anywhere. "Sweetie, I'll stay home."

  Bianca's eyes went wide. "What? No! We want to stay with Glamma!"

  Seven chuckled. Denied! "Oh, okay. Are you sure?"

  "Yes! You have to go. Glamma's slumber party is going to be the best. She said so."

  "Oh yeah?" Seven mouthed best as Gennita laughed, and she threw her arms out to hug her kiddos. "Both of you, c'mere. I love you with my whole heart."

  "To infinity and the moon and the stars and the racetrack and the grocery store and the sky and back," Nolan added.

  "That's a lot," Bianca explained. "I love you that much too."

  Bang, bang.

  "Oh, cool your horses," Gennita shouted at the door, shaking her head. "Those men. Let that be a lesson to you both." She scooped the kids from Seven. "We go when we're ready. Not when someone tells us to scoot. Back on those bikes."

  They jumped onto their imaginary hogs.

  "You ready?"

  "As I'll ever be." Seven grabbed her bag and headed toward her ride that would fly her to Jax, Johnny, and cartel country. Maybe Xanax wasn't a bad idea after all with a list like that.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bogotá, Distrito Capital

  Colombia

  The old city bustled with sights and sounds that made it seem more like a modern marvel of the political and cultural powerhouse that it was. Flower markets overfilled every corner, boasting the most bountiful and beautiful blossoms in the world, thanks to the ideal humidity and high altitude of the capital city.

  Unless someone was searching for the signs on the main streets and parks crowded with children, there were few outward appearances of cartel influence. But not many places in South America had the confluence of power, money, and illegal distributi
on networks as Bogotá. The city benefited from every ounce of drugs sold in the Western Hemisphere.

  It had been years since Jax had walked these deceptive streets. Then, the phrase diplomatic relations weren't a thought. His purpose had been to disrupt weapons distribution networks by any means necessary. They had gone in silently and left a trail of blood and thunder behind. Their mission had been accomplished: massive disruption.

  Still, he took the city in with the same predatory filter. Each businessman was assumed to be a cartel employee and blood-hungry. Every window and straightaway potentially housed a sniper nest, and walking next to Jared on the way to the meeting location—a restaurant named after Suarez's wife—Jax heeded the warning of the hairs prickling at the back of his neck. He and Jared were vulnerable with minimal body armor and weapons. The high altitude and low oxygen of Bogotá made each bullet feel as though its weight were quadrupled. Jax would rather be armed like he'd been years before.

  "What kind of message does it send to name the restaurant Esmeralda's?" Jared muttered as they made a blind turn.

  Jax had wondered that too. "Think she works there?"

  Boss Man's hearty chuckle fell easily. "If by work, you mean surveys her people and drinks fine wine, then yes."

  The Suarezes had more money than Jax could fathom. Esmeralda's was likely one of many fronts to launder money and host illegal meetings, though Jax had Googled the restaurant and found that it was very well reviewed. Though who would be ballsy enough to one-star the wife of a cartel king?

  The restaurant was ahead, standing out with its opulence in a city that held its own with high-end eateries fueled by the drug profit of Colombia's black-market economy. The reported exports of flowers and coffee couldn't support the surrounding first-world economy. "I think it says we own this city."

  "Yup," Jared agreed as they met the doorman.

  "Good afternoon, and welcome to Esmeralda's." He opened the massive gold-gilded door with a bow and escorted them into a foyer with pomp and fanfare, then dropped his head in silent goodbye as security stepped from the shadows and patted them down, quietly disarming them with none of the doorman's dramatic display.

  "Who knew you had this much fun when you went to meetings without us," Jax joked as a hostess appeared on cue.

  Jared's bored expression said he had expected the disarmament. Jax had too. But he hadn't guessed there would be a bowing, shuffling, nodding dude at the door.

  "Good afternoon," the young woman said. "This way."

  The restaurant was eerily quiet, but Jax doubted they were as alone as it seemed. Winters, Cash, and Roman were positioned catty-corner at nearby blocks, and Jax assumed the Suarez cartel and Mayhem each had gunslingers similarly placed. It was the only way any of them would ever agree to the two-person-per-group sit-down.

  The hostess batted her long eyelashes as she showed them back to a private room.

  "Fancy," Jax muttered.

  The walls were carved wood, and velvet drapes hung like tapestries, framing portraits of the beautiful woman who had to be Esmeralda.

  "Enjoy." The hostess pushed open a glass door and swept back as Hernán Suarez came forward.

  "Jared Westin." Hernán's outstretched hand reached toward Boss Man as he greeted Jax with a nod. "And Jax Michaelson. Pleasure meeting you. I hope you enjoy your evening at one of my prized jewels."

  A man trailed Hernán, retreating back to a leather portfolio. Then they greeted Hawke and Johnny, who were already in the private dining room.

  For the next twenty minutes, a cadre of servants served drinks and food. Plate after plate accompanied small talk, neither of which Jax gave two fucks about, but Jared bantered as if he had a degree in bullshit. Hernán liked to hear himself talk, and Jax couldn't figure out what he thought about Hawke conversing. Most of the time, the man was silent, but maybe Jax misread Hawke's caution. Johnny, on the other hand, was easy to read and didn't like anyone in the room, including Titan.

  Jax had little to do with the wheeling and dealing as Jared eased Hernán and Hawke into the discussion. He listened less for what was said, instead, searching for a reason why Boss Man wanted Jax involved. There had to be more than what was stated: that Jax needed a lesson in diplomacy and to put his past experience with cartels to work.

  That was bullshit. Anyone with half a brain could memorize the cartel players and have the same working knowledge that Jax did.

  A beautiful woman with long, dark hair and deep, intense eyes glided into the room in a dress that looked more expensive than all of the food combined. She carried an air of sophistication that named her as Hernán's wife before she even said a word. The cartel king stood, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. Their dynamic was interesting to watch.

  Hernán, in no uncertain terms, was a monster. Not necessarily in looks, but in business and in morals. Then again, a cartel king didn't get to the top of the worldwide drug food chain without being a sick, sadistic son of a bitch who made other cartel kings take a step back. And yet the woman who wrapped herself around him as though she were madly in love didn't seem to be put off by that at all. Sometimes money and power were enough. Jax narrowed his eyes as he studied the couple. Or sometimes a couple was one in the same, and he wondered if Hernán and Esmeralda were two peas in a pod.

  Hernán introduced her as his queen, and she batted her eyelashes, demurely playing down his attention. Out of the corner of Jax's eye, he saw that Jared was on high alert, and that matched the feeling Jax continued to have about the woman.

  "Did you enjoy the food?" Her exotically tinged words curled through the air. But it was the sexy, almost trancelike look she cast upon Hawke and Johnny that made Jax inch to the edge of his seat.

  Both men instantly lauded the meal. Jax watched as they talked about how the food melted in their mouths and that the wine had to be rare. Jax wondered if these motorcycle thugs knew what the shit they were talking about or if this was just BS flowing to schmooze with their business partner's wife.

  She glided around the table, running her fingertips along Hernán's arm to his shoulder. Then she let her fingers drift along his other arm as she moved to Hawke and Johnny and sat next to Johnny.

  Jax ran his tongue along his bottom lip. What would Jared's diplomatic relations do now? Because, by Jax's count, the cartel had just added another player to the negotiation table.

  "We appreciate the food, ma'am," Boss Man said to Hernán, notably not her. "But I'd like to get back to business and finish hammering out this deal."

  One thing Jax knew about Jared was that he didn't fall for many tricks, and he wasn't going to be lured in by a play between this man and wife. Jared talking to Hernán, complimenting Esmeralda to the cartel king, had nothing to do with her belonging to the husband, and everything to do with Boss Man putting Hernán on notice. I see the bullshit. I see your play.

  Hernán played down Esmeralda's presence at the table. "She's just a woman. Just my wife."

  She reached for a corn cake and fed it to Johnny, fingers lingering against his mouth. "Delicious, isn't it? Arepas. The simplest foods can be the most pleasurable."

  Her sultry voice and the deep V of her dress created a combination that had Johnny literally eating from her hand.

  "It is." Johnny's gravelly voice had nothing to do with the food.

  She made a production of choosing a new item and did it again. "This is my family's recipe for aborrajados."

  Hawke's jaw tensed as Johnny took another bite offered.

  "The plantains and cheese melt together." She put it down, offering him a linen napkin but then dabbing at his mouth. "They are my weakness."

  Hell, Johnny was Mayhem's weakness as he hypnotically agreed with her. He was solidly on Team Esmeralda.

  "Now that we've tried the appetizers…" Jared crossed his arms, eying Hernán. "The ground rules were clear. Each party could have two players at the table. I'd like her to go."

  Hernán tilted his head. "It's her restaurant."

&n
bsp; "That may be true. But it is still hers on the other side of that door." Boss Man tossed his thumb over his shoulder. "Or we're done for the day and can reconvene tomorrow."

  "No, no." Esmeralda glided back from Johnny, spreading out her well-manicured hands toward the feast on the table as her jeweled bracelets clinked. "I'm leaving. Enjoy."

  "Thank you." Since they had crossed many lines of appropriateness, Johnny's comfort level at a one-on-one goodbye seemed almost benign, but Jax saw the play coming fast.

  She bent to her captive audience, perked breasts on display, and leaned close enough to whisper in his ear as her curtain of dark hair shielded the room from her lips.

  Jared's fist hit the table, and he stood. "None of that."

  "Come now." Hernán leaned back, smirking at Jared. "We boast three five-diamond awards for our customer excellence in addition to the food—"

  "Cut the BS and get her out of here." Jared stepped closer to Hernán. "Or this is done."

  Hawke pushed his chair back a few inches, glaring at Johnny, and Johnny shook his head as though siding with Hernán and Esmeralda.

  She glided out, coming around to the other side of the table and trailing her fingers along the edge of an empty chair until she came near Jax. She let her fingernails scrape across his elbow, then she left the room. What the fuck was that all about?

  The mood in the room had shifted entirely, and tension that had already been uncomfortable was now untrusting and on edge. Jax looked at Jared. "I don't know about you, Boss Man, but I could use a break."

  Jared ran a hand over his face and gave a curt nod. "Everyone take two."

  Hernán and his associate didn't even turn to one another, and that was all the confirmation Jax needed that Esmeralda was a play. Hernán's associate was nothing more than a straw man stand-in, and he probably knew jack shit about the Suarez cartel business. They'd been doing business with Mayhem for many years, and they likely knew the club's leadership well enough to know that Johnny was the weak link, just like Hawke knew.

  Jared could protect them against the bad deal, could help them negotiate good terms, but he couldn't tell them to keep themselves in line, and if Mayhem wanted to fuck up their own situation, that was on them. Boss Man and all of the talent the Titan Group housed couldn't help them with that.