Jax

by Cristin Harber

  It was odd that she would even think about them. "Sure, thank you."

  "The nicest man was asking about them. We just chatted and—"

  The door opened back up, and Johnny strode out, but as soon as he saw Mrs. Reed, whatever he was about to yell after Seven fell away with an awkward smile. "Hi, Mrs. Reed."

  Leave it to Johnny to pull out some charm.

  "Hello, dear. Would you like a piece of carrot cake?"

  "I have to go. I'm late." After offering a dozen apologies, Seven shuffled away, not willing to stand next to a coked-out Johnny, making small talk with the neighbors as if this were Mayberry.

  As soon as Seven got in her car, she turned over the engine and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Screw this."

  She didn't have cake and wouldn't have an ex-husband who was going to snort his life away. Seven grabbed her cell phone and called Hawke. The phone rang twice before he picked up. If nothing else, he gave her the respect she deserved, most times, and listened to her thoughts.

  "Hey, Hawke, do you have a few minutes?"

  "Sorry, Seven, but I was getting ready to call you real quick."

  "Why, what's up?"

  "Can you make it to Vegas to help sort out our headache?"

  If it had anything to do with Mayhem, she was down to help. "Sure. Whenever you need me."

  "I'm calling a summit of possible distribution partners. Whether or not Hernán is on board or not, I'm figuring this out."

  Her head dropped back against the headrest. That was terrific news. "What's Johnny have to say?"

  "Haven't heard from him in a few days, and honestly? I don't give a fuck. He'll show up or not."

  Ah, now it all made sense—why Johnny was on a bender and what had triggered him and his worse-than-normal mood. "He'll be there. He'd never miss anything for the club."

  Hawke sighed. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

  ###

  Across the parking lot, Jorge Torres spun a pencil between his fingers. He'd parked in a way that allowed him to watch the walk-up apartment complex and also keep an eye on Johnny Miller's window as well as the parking lot.

  Jorge had rightly assumed that Mayhem's vice president had locked himself inside his home. He hadn't seen the wife they knew about, women they'd heard about, or anyone besides his blow connection and food delivery.

  Fast food was the dinner of champions. He grumbled, staring at the bag of tacos and tacquitos he'd picked up at a drive-through. The smell was almost enticing, but that was perhaps a mind-over-matter situation as he hadn't stopped for a meal in almost a day. Hernán had told him to work and work fast. That Johnny was the weak link, and so there Jorge was, in America, with bad food and no sign of life.

  Until the pink-and-blue-haired wild child with leather boots and tight pants had shown up. He'd watched her through binoculars nearly slap down the door. The woman matched the description he had of Johnny's wife. Trouble in paradise. Made sense. Between a woman disrespectful enough to kick the door and Mayhem in chaos with Hernán, Jorge imagined few lived a normal life of love without the complexities that cartel business added.

  With few leads, the one small ping of information had come from a neighbor when he'd thrown out random questions about a wife, kids, and a job. Only the kids had seemed to interest the woman. They were most likely staying wherever the wife was staying.

  Jorge tossed the pencil and opened up the bag of food. It'd cooled, but tacos were fine—hot, cold, whatever—when he was starving. He opened the room-temperature taco, shoved it into his mouth, and gagged. "Mierda!" He spat into the bag and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  Why couldn't this have been a job somewhere he liked? New York? New Orleans? But Sweet Hills, Iowa? He spat in the bag again, unable to get the over-processed aftertaste out of his mouth. I would even take Toronto in the winter. Give me that. They could make a mean tostado—authentic and fast. Not this mierda.

  He picked up the phone, dialing the business counterpoint who regularly contracted his services for the Suarez cartel. It rang twice, and when the line picked up without a response, Jorge felt a twinge of relief as he readied to pass the update. "Relay that we have found our negotiating point."

  The line went dead. He rolled his window down, held out the bag of food, lit it on fire, and dropped the flaming bag to the parking lot. He pulled out as the wife stayed in her car, talking on the phone. Jorge would find a good position where he could follow her to see where she lived and if there were kids.

  Please let there be kids. Children were a much better pressure point. They would get him home faster. Hernán and Esmeralda could work with that, negotiating much better terms on almost anything with kids over an old lady, especially one that slapped doors.

  The fruit of the loin of Señor Johnny Miller. Jorge grinned. Esmeralda would use that and get whatever she wanted, and he would have real food sooner than he'd hoped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Perky Cup's atmosphere was as buzzed as her espresso. Patrons were busy and talking, sipping and snacking, and posting pictures on social media of muffins and cupcakes. Kiddos played on the train table, and a romance novel book club bantered back and forth in the corner about the boundaries in books lately.

  All in all, it was a typical day in Seven's coffee shop, punctuated by the occasional spill and broken mug, crying kid, and the constant jingle-jangle of the front-door bell.

  But her mind continued to drift back to Hawke's phone call. Vegas.

  What was Seven going to do in Vegas? She didn't expect to vacation. Her role was likely part figurehead, part keep-Johnny-in-line, with a dash of give-Hawke-her two-cents-if-he-asked, all while keeping an eye on Titan Group.

  Most of Mayhem wanted Titan included, but the idea of outsiders involved was still a concern for some members. They were doing their best to approach this part of club business as business, and in business, there were times that third party… vendors were required. At least that was how she'd heard Hawke explain Titan to anyone who balked.

  Vegas wasn't her scene, not that she'd ever been. Seven would much rather stick to her precise routine that was mapped out and involved taking care of her priorities: kids, mother, and coffee shop.

  Eventually, she was on the list… maybe… or maybe not. Though she could track down a few piercing rock stars and fan-girl them—if there was time.

  "Seven!"

  She snapped out of her Vegas concerns and ducked her head out of her office, more than glad to have a reason other than Hawke and Vegas to avoid reviewing the latest purchase orders. "What's up?" But she didn't need an answer because Jax stood next to Sidney. It wasn't often Seven was caught off guard, just like it wasn't often that Jax did what she expected. "Hey."

  Sidney gaped at them as if he'd been huffing whippits. "I'm good to close if you want to take off early."

  "Umm." A dopey grin that made her feel as though she was on a sugar high lodged onto her face, and it took far too much thought to tone down her reaction. "Yeah, sure. Maybe. Jax, what are you doing here?"

  "I forgot to mention last time I was here that the smoothie was off the charts." He thumbed to where Sidney stood at his side. "Sidney mentioned this was your place when I said something, and I thought it'd be a good excuse to come back and see you."

  Her eyes went as wide as Sidney's. A few customers cast curious glances their way. What most didn't know was Jax didn't live in Iowa! He lived somewhere on the east coast, and she didn't know, because she lived in Iowa!

  Seven crept closer to the counter. "You could have called." Nervously, she played with her tongue stud. "You do call."

  He crossed his arms, and every muscle figured out how to display itself, even those hidden by a casual cotton shirt. The ridges of his shoulders and the definition of his chest magnified as he tried not to laugh, clamping down his chiseled jaw line. "It's infinitely more entertaining to see you figure out how to handle this in person."

  He had no idea that he wasn't the only pers
on finding entertainment value at the moment. The normal level of chitchat in The Perky Cup had lowered to the listening level of eavesdropping.

  The phone rang, and Sidney groaned as he turned to answer it.

  "Let's go back—"

  "Seven, hang on a second," Sidney said and went back to his call. "Only if you're sure, because now is really not a good time." He paused. "Fine, then. But just so you know, I am not happy with you, Gennita."

  Oh? Seven's eyebrows arched. "What's going on?"

  "Gennita said her old man fell ill. Needs to go get him from the compound." Sidney grumbled under his breath. "She swore up and down he's really sick and it's an emergency. Adelia has the kids for a few, but she has to go to work."

  "Not a problem." Gennita grandmothered the hell out of Nolan and Bianca. There wasn't a chance she would push the kids back on Seven at work if her old man was drunk or hungover. "But it looks like you get to cover for me after all." She turned to Jax and had no idea how to handle this. "Come back to my office for a minute?"

  He nodded then followed, and Seven shut the door, suddenly very aware that he was next to the threshold, almost pressed against her.

  "Maybe I should've called."

  The masculine scent of his cologne and the closeness of his body heat made her breaths feel shallow. "You're in Iowa."

  "When you say it like that…" He winked. "Maybe a text first."

  "That's nuts. You know that?"

  "We were done with a job. I was in Dallas-Fort Worth and could go anywhere."

  "Iowa."

  He chuckled. "You want me to get back in a Lyft and go?"

  Seven shook her head. "Not really."

  "I have to go back to work tomorrow night, and don't read that the wrong way. I didn't fly in to fuck you."

  She blinked, having no idea how to take that.

  "But I had some time on my hands. Thought I'd stop by."

  "Iowa."

  Jax put his hand on her throat, tilting her head back with the strength of his fingers, and silenced her with his lips. Their firmness made her weak as her pulse pounded in her neck, and she moaned. His fingers flexed for a flash until Jax backed her to the wall and released his hold.

  Seven gasped into his kiss, moaning for more when his hot tongue slid between her lips.

  "I wanted to kiss you again," he whispered, letting his mouth feather against her cheek before he dropped to her neck and used his teeth.

  "God, yes." Her nipples pricked as his words rumbled against her senses. She raked her nails up his back, and Jax left a searing trail of kisses to her collarbone. She pulled back. "Jax—wait."

  "Yeah?"

  She placed her hands on the carved muscles of his chest, flexing her fingers. He pulled her hands off, interlaced their fingers, and pinned them above her head. "I'm waiting."

  "I have kids."

  He ducked his head close. Him and her, away from the world, in a shadowed room of their faces, their warm breaths, heated from their kisses. "I should've called."

  "All these real-life responsibilities. Kids. A business. A thing with my mom. Stuff like that."

  He nodded. "You don't have to explain. I'll head out."

  "No!" She didn't want him to go but didn't know what to do. "Is Ryder in town? Maybe…"

  He shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

  "I'd invite you over, but I get it. Kids. Those are scary little people to bachelor guys. Though it's not like I'd tell them who you are, not that you are something, or…" She cringed, not sure what that sounded like to him. "What I mean is that they are around a lot of my friends, many in Mayhem. They're used to friends who are male. Never mind." She laughed awkwardly, making the situation a thousand times more uncomfortable than it had to be.

  Jax stepped back. "I didn't think this through. That's on me."

  His words hit like a gut shot. Not that she wanted him to meet her kids, but damn, she didn't want him to run from who she really was, and he'd been told in no uncertain terms that she had kids. The guy had flown to Iowa and didn't think about it. He did just want to screw, and his other head had led him the entire way there. Why was she surprised—and hurt? "No worries."

  But even as she tried to add sunshine into her fib, she heard it fall flat without her permission.

  "What I'm trying to say is…" Jax walked back to the small couch in her office and took a seat. "Having an unknown—houseguest? Who's a guy. That's probably a big deal to throw at a woman with kids, and it was screwed up of me not to think it through." He pursed his lips together, having no idea what he was talking about. "That makes me a dick, and that wasn't what I was trying to do." He put his arm over the back of the couch. "I wanted to see you and say hey. I did, so I can bounce."

  "Please don't." Seven crossed her office and joined him. "Hang out with us."

  "I don't want to cause a problem."

  She cackled. "Mayhem showing up at six in the morning and demanding I set a meeting with Titan Group is a problem. Though it's had its benefits," she teased. "If you're down for some serious mac and cheese and dino-chicken-nugget action and then crashing in the guest room, I'd love to hang."

  A smile that she hadn't seen before lit his face. Maybe he hadn't expected to be served dino nuggets, or maybe he was amused to be relegated to the guest bedroom. She had no idea, but learning more about Jax was like unwrapping a present that had many complicated layers. When she least expected it, another gift showed up. There it was, and surprise! An unexpected bit of joy came her way.

  "Do I get a good-night kiss and tucked in?" he joked.

  "I can manage that." Seven stood up and held out her hand. "Hang with us for the night? At Casa de Kiddos?"

  He grasped her hand, hoisting himself so their bodies touched. "Just know one thing."

  "What's that?"

  "Kids shouldn't scare a man away."

  Wow… Even as every part of her flew into the air like a dusting of confectioner's sugar, she melted as he headed toward the door.

  "Ready?"

  How different his childhood had probably been, and for the millionth time, she recommitted to making sure Nolan and Bianca never had the experience she had in which her infamous father saw Seven as an imposition or an asset but never a kid.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Obstacles were a part of life. Jax trained for them. He planned courses of action then backup, prepared for them to fail. He was constantly ready to pivot and adjust so that the unexpected never found him waiting.

  Right now, he was T-minus five seconds to out of his league and only had a car's drive worth of intelligence gathering.

  Adelia hung on the apartment complex porch, waving goodbye to the kids but trying to catch a better eye of who was in Seven's car, and he was transfixed by the three- and almost five- year-old holding Seven's hands as they walked to the car.

  The little boy bounced, and his mouth never stopped. He fit his name, and Jax worried the kid never took a breath.

  Then there was the little girl. Seven said she was tall for her age and acted much older than she was. She was contemplative and serious on the outside, but really a silly one who craved trust—but only with a select few.

  "Nolan and Bianca," he tried their names out loud.

  Cute names for cute kids, and watching Seven banter with Nolan painted her in a new light. She was every bit the mom his mother was. Odd how he could pick that out from a couple dozen yards away. Seven's world was her kids, and he respected that more than she would probably ever know.

  The back door opened, and the kids crawled in.

  "Hi, Mr. Jax!" Nolan shouted as he scampered to the buckles on his car seat. Seven grinned and tugged his car seat straps into place.

  Already turned in his seat, Jax waved. "Hey, Nolan. Nice to meet you, buddy."

  "Hello." Bianca's greeting was the prim and proper one he'd expected. She was noticeably quieter than she'd been before the car door had opened.

  "Hi, Bianca." Jax focused on her. "That's a pr
etty bow in your hair."

  Her eyes lit, but her mouth remained impassive, not allowing a smile to pass. "Thank you."

  "It matches your shirt. I really like that." He turned back in his seat, catching her in the rearview mirror as Bianca glanced down.

  "I chose it myself," she volunteered, a tiny crack of happiness allowed to cross her face.

  Nolan started talking and never stopped as Bianca turned toward the window. Seven had predicted they would do this, and after she checked on Bianca's self-buckled harness, she joined him in the front and turned over the engine. "If I'd known you were coming, I might've cleaned up."

  "She would've run around at the last second, putting things in closets," Bianca added, kicking her legs.

  Jax laughed. "That's what I do too."

  "The little truth-teller." Seven ducked her hand back as she pulled away from Adelia's apartment and squeezed Bianca's leg. "That's a good trait to have."

  Five minutes later, they were in Seven's driveway. "Home sweet home."

  Her house was cute. The front windows were stained glass, separating her from her neighbors, and her flowerbeds overflowed with colors.

  "The flowers are all Victoria's doing." Seven shifted into park and reached back, unfastening car seats. "Wash hands when we get inside."

  A moment later, Jax stood next to her car as the wave of energy blurred past, clambering for the door until she unlocked it.

  Jax lagged behind, taking in Seven's personality and style but the house and hearth version—with kids. Her house warmed him from the inside out, and laughter rang from the walls as he followed them in.

  "Nolan will give you a tour," Bianca announced. "He knows which light switches turn on all the lights."

  That made sense to Jax, and he nodded. "All right."

  "After everyone washes their hands." Seven walked back down the hall, free of her keys and purse. She held her arms out in welcome. "Make yourself at home."

  It'd been a long time since he'd been in a house that was lived in, especially by children. Jax didn't socially hang out with many of his teammates, and his SEAL buddies were like him. They had home bases, and they were furnished with essentials and go bags. Furnishings weren't important. There wasn't much time for art on the walls. The closest he got to homey and comfortable was fake and at safe houses.