Jax

by Cristin Harber

  This house was lived-in, and he was glad Seven hadn't known he was coming. The place was as clean and neat as one with little kids could safely expect to keep and stay sane.

  As he wandered around, he couldn't help but appreciate how they each had added their personality. Drawings and blocks, pillows and blankets, Lincoln Logs and Legos, dolls with all their dresses and multicolored hair.

  And the Harley toys. Jax laughed. They were in the life…

  Seven's walls were decorated with pictures, art, and occasional references to motorcycle culture. Her vibrant style carried through with leathers and bold colors—turquoise wall here, purple archways there.

  He glanced over and saw her leaning against the cutaway to the dining room, watching him take it all in.

  "What's going through your mind?" she asked.

  "I like this. You three have a cool place."

  "It was four. My mom recently moved to a nursing home." Her unreadable face gave nothing away. "But she wasn't in a good place to contribute much, and when she left"—Seven gestured—"I guess nothing changed, either."

  Jax sat down on the couch, listening to the kids play in their rooms down the hall. "Do you miss her? Having another adult to help out?"

  "She couldn't help before, and her doctor didn't know what made it worse. Old age, I guess. I couldn't take care of her very well for the past couple weeks." She lifted a shoulder. "It's better that way. For her."

  "For you?"

  Seven crossed the room, joining him on the couch. "No one wants to put their mom in a nursing home, especially now. I'm too young. She's too young. It's just… It sucks."

  "I'm sorry."

  "What about you?" she asked.

  "Family?" He shrugged when the kids sounded as though they were coming out of their rooms.

  Seven seemed to have both him and them under observation, and it was a talent to manage without seeming as if she were watching a tennis match. "You weren't magically conceived."

  "Ha. No, I wasn't—"

  A beep sounded from the kitchen, and Seven popped up. "Don't forget whatever you were about to confess, but mac and cheese waits for no one, not even magically conceived SEALs."

  As soon as Seven rushed to the kitchen, Nolan and Bianca arrived. The little boy crawled next to Jax with a Lego plane in hand, while Bianca played with her dolls.

  "Want to pway with me?" Nolan shoved the plane into Jax's hand. "Up like this." Then hoisted his arm in the air. "Up!"

  "Vr-vroom," Jax flew it back and forth and glanced at the kid. Big fail.

  "Pwanes don't vroom."

  Well, the kid knew his shit.

  "I'll show you."

  Jax landed the plane and moved to the floor as he followed Nolan's lead.

  "They can stwart here." He took what was clearly not a plane and added wings. Jax wasn't going to point that out even if Nolan took issue with the vrooming. "And go… Vrrrrrrrrrr."

  Around the room he went. Jax followed, and Nolan was dead right. With a couple "Rrrrrrrs" and "Annnnnrrrrrsss," Jax had regained trust in the land of block-built toys.

  They landed their planes, and Nolan led him toward a box of Legos that rivaled the size of the kid. "Open and out!"

  An avalanche of the blocks crashed onto the floor, and Jax jumped as though he were going to get in trouble then laughed at himself. No one else was fazed by the loud cascade. Then Nolan turned into a captain and dictated orders. Jax needed this and that, and before he knew it, his hands were filled with skinny pieces, wide ones, the kind that had angles, and others that attached wheels. And he couldn't see how any of them worked together. But the kid had a vision.

  "Put them down." Nolan waved Jax over, as if he had forgotten how to walk, and patted the floor. "On the gwound."

  If nothing else, Jax could follow instructions when under command. He lined up the Legos as Nolan set up shop in front of Jax. "Like this?"

  "Put that one on thwat side."

  "Got it." Jax rearranged, checking with the three-year-old for approval. "What now, captain?"

  Nolan glanced up, holding a Lego in each hand, and the kid's happiness doubled down. "Mine and yours gwo like thwis."

  For the next five minutes, Jax obeyed every instruction, and they built a tower that connected to an axle with spinning wheels. He latched it on to the flat platform.

  "Biwanca, we made it fwr your dollws!"

  Jax leaned back, studying the structure that Nolan had created, and saw what the kid had done. It was a swing set—of sorts—but it would work, and it was the right size.

  Jax held his hand up. "Nicely done, little man."

  Nolan dive-bombed onto Jax as Seven walked in. "Fifteen—minutes." She watched Nolan hugging Jax. "Until dinner."

  Shit. Maybe he wasn't supposed to hug the kid? He mouthed silently, "Is this okay?"

  Seven nodded, watching quietly. Then Nolan jumped off and spun to her. "Did you see what we bwuilt?"

  She smiled one of those proud-mama smiles that made women so beautiful. "Sure did."

  Then she winked and went back into the kitchen. Jax scooted back, listening to the oven open and close, Seven's cell phone ring, and a fridge clinking shut. He liked the sound of plates and silverware, drawers opening and closing. "Hey, Seven. Do you want any help?"

  "No. I like doing things a certain way."

  "Okay. Lemme know if you change your mind."

  Jax noticed Bianca watching their conversation as she changed a doll outfit.

  Nolan crawled onto the couch and leaned over Jax's shoulder. "We need to make anwther one."

  "Good thing you don't need my help," he called back to the kitchen. "My talents are being used elsewhere."

  Her laughter rang through the house, and Bianca turned toward the kitchen. A perplexed line drew across Bianca's forehead.

  "Why was that funny?" Bianca asked.

  What had he said? "It wasn't a joke, funny, ha-ha. It was, well, she was amused. I mean, it made her happy. So she laughed." Was that a good way to explain amusement to a five-year-old? Jax had no idea.

  "We make her laugh. Victoria and Ryder do. Glamma. Aunt Delie. Sidney." Bianca tilted her head as though she were wracking her brain to find another source of Seven's laughter.

  "I guess I do too," Jax added.

  "But you're one of them?" Bianca asked.

  "Them?"

  "Where's your motorcycle?"

  "Oh," he said quietly. "I'm not one of them. I'm a friend, like they are, but I'm not part of their group."

  "You're like Sidney?"

  Almost… "Exactly."

  Bianca's expression defrosted somewhat. "Have you ridden a motorcycle before?"

  "There's not much I haven't done, sweetheart."

  She put her doll down. "Really?"

  Jax flew a Lego into the air. "I've flown up high." Then he dive-bombed it. "And dropped down low." He made waves with the toy. "Dove deep into the water." And then he leaned toward her, gliding it across the floor and flicking it the rest of the distance toward her doll with the bright-green hair. "And I help people when I can."

  "How'd you do that?"

  "I was in the military."

  Nolan ohhhed, and Bianca didn't react. "You shoot people?"

  "Um…" Where was Seven when questions like this popped up? "Bad guys."

  "How do you know they were bad?"

  "I ask questions." Maybe he should've gone to help Seven with dinner even though she'd said no.

  "Some people think our parents were bad guys."

  Foot in mouth. Fucking hell. "I would not hurt your parents, Bianca."

  "They hurt themselves. It's their fault they're gone. Not our fault," Bianca recited.

  He shifted on the floor as Nolan pulled on his hair. Jax had no idea what to do with this conversation. Hell, he hadn't known they weren't Seven's biological kids. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Sometimes it's hard for grown-ups to understand tough stuff like this." He crawled closer to her as Nolan paid no mind but clung to his neck
and hung down his back like a cape. "I can't imagine it's easy for you."

  Watching him down on his stomach, she crouched down too. "Hi," Bianca said.

  "Hey." He smiled. They both put their chins on their hands and propped their elbows on the floor. "I don't have a lot of friends in Sweet Hills. Your mom is my friend—"

  "She's everyone's friend."

  He could see that. "I could use another. Got any ideas?"

  "I could be your friend too," she offered.

  "I'd like that."

  Bianca's smile beamed. "Okay. I'm going back to my doll."

  "Okay. I'll go back to my block-building." Jax pushed onto his hands and knees, letting Nolan stay on his back for a ride to the couch.

  The little boy threw his arms in the air. "More! Kweep going!"

  Jax turned his head. "More what, buddy?"

  "He wants you to give him a ride," Bianca explained.

  Then it clicked. Nolan was on his back, and Jax crawling to Bianca had been a ride. Game on. "I can do better than that."

  Jax held on to Nolan's leg and bounced around the living room to shrieks of laughter ringing out. When he stopped, it wasn't just Nolan laughing. Bianca was too.

  "Come on, my new friend. You too."

  Hesitantly, she gathered her two dolls—one with green-dyed hair, the other with pink—and set them against the wall. "Can they see?"

  "Sure."

  As though no one had ever given her a ride before, Bianca beamed and jumped behind Nolan. Both kids bounced on his back, and Jax couldn't remember a time when he'd cared less about what he looked like or had that much fun.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "Do you do this every night?" Jax was sprawled on the couch, positive he hadn't been so tired in all his life.

  Seven laughed. "Do what? Go to work? Pick my kids up? Feed them?"

  "They never stop moving."

  "True." She folded the kitchen hand towel in that way she did, once then twice. "You just got off a job, though."

  He stretched his arm out. "I'm never tired after a job."

  She took his hand, and Jax reeled her in. "Sounds like a load of macho crap to me."

  "If there was any doubt that I didn't come here to have sex, I can barely move." He laughed. "Kids are hard."

  "You've been here for half a day, Mr. Navy SEAL."

  "You're a strong woman, Seven, and a really good mom."

  She nestled against his chest. "You don't have to say that."

  "Those kids, they think you walk on water."

  "They didn't have much to compare to."

  "Bianca mentioned something about that."

  Seven sighed. "It's an ugly story for another time."

  He ran his hand up and down her back, yawning. "No worries, babe." He pulled her close. "My mom, she's about as good as they come. I can tell you, you're a good mom."

  Seven squeezed him. "I knew you weren't magically conjured into the world."

  He closed his eyes, relaxing with her draped over him. Not even a day ago, he'd been halfway around the globe, hunting down a terrorist, and now he was relaxing before bed and…

  ###

  Seven blinked as Nolan bounced on her legs, and daylight spilled, urging her awake. The morning had come too soon, and she'd had the best dream. She could even still feel it. Feel him. Jax. His warm breath and sure hands. The scratch of dark scruff on his cheeks.

  "Is she alive?" Bianca asked. "Her shoes are on."

  Nolan giggled. "She's vwery bouncy."

  Jax cleared his throat, shifting underneath her—and that wasn't a dream. Seven's eyes flew open, and she was nose to nose with Bianca.

  "She's alive," Bianca announced.

  "Is he?" Nolan asked, peering over her shoulder.

  Oh God… "Yes," Seven whispered, trying not to panic as she best decided how to handle this monumental parenting fail. "Go to your rooms for a few minutes."

  "Why?" Bianca asked, and Nolan bounced on Seven's legs for good measure.

  Seven was ninety-nine percent sure that Jax was very much awake and playing dead, as if that was going to help anything.

  "His hand is on your private part," Nolan reported as he jumped off the couch.

  "What?" Seven tried to do a quick summary of her private parts. All were dressed and accounted for, but sleeping-Jax quickly moved his hand off her butt cheek. "Rooms. Now."

  Both scampered quickly away, and she dropped her head against his chest. "Feel free to rescind any and all mentions of good mother references." She knocked her head on his hard-muscled chest before pushing up.

  Jax opened one eye, trying to suffocate a laugh—or maybe that was what she wanted to do. "Don't play possum with me, Buster."

  "There's that Buster again."

  She dislodged herself from the warm embraced that had held her all night long, and Jax kicked his jeans-covered legs alongside as he stretched to sit up.

  "Don't be too hard on yourself." He hooked an arm over her shoulder. "I'm not going to tell you it's not a big deal if you think it is or that it could've been worse. It wasn't what we planned."

  A wave of awareness ran down her spine. He had said, "we planned." Did he have any idea what a huge deal it was for someone to take them into account? "Nope. It wasn't."

  Jax pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "But it was the best sleep I've had in a while."

  "Same." She rested her chin on his shoulder, falling for him faster than she could recall tumbling into an effortless sleep. "Can you stay for breakfast?"

  "Yeah, then I have to head back to prep for Vegas." His body slouched as though reality had interrupted his thoughts. "You'll be there?"

  Seven groaned at reality's buzzkill. "Wherever Hawke wants me, yup."

  "Can we come back now?" Bianca called from the corner.

  "Pwease?" Nolan sang.

  "Forget I mentioned Vegas, and when I see you there tomorrow, we'll be at work like it's any other day." He lumbered off the couch, a yawning statute of muscles accented with morning scruff and sexy hair. "Okay, troops. Tell your mama to go back to sleep. Let's find food." Two sets of little feet ran toward the kitchen with excited screams. "You might get Pop-Tarts in bed, but we won't burn the place down." Jax winked then followed the thunder of feet and cabinet doors opening and closing. "Who knows where the coffee is hidden?"

  If she had a rock, she would give it to him again and again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Checking into the hotel was everything Seven had guessed it would be. Same with the airport. From the smoky second she'd walked through the grand tinted doors, she could see why Mayhem liked to do company business in Vegas. The loud, electronic ring of casino games greeted her before the bellhop did. People from all walks of life grouped in every direction, surrounded by gambling and parties. Even the line for check-in had access to the nearby tables.

  "They certainly get you as soon as you walk in," Ethan's cigarette-scratched voice said.

  Seven turned, moving her suitcase, and repositioning her purse to the other shoulder. "When'd you get in?"

  "I was on your flight."

  "Really?" She'd had too much on her mind to pay attention to her surroundings. "I thought Mayhem arrived earlier."

  Other than responding to the few texts from Hawke about where she was supposed to be and what she was supposed to do when she landed, Seven had replayed her time with Jax and how he'd turned into a near-stranger as it was time to leave. His distance had been almost chilling, but she tried to hang on to the fact that he operated much like Ryder, and Seven had seen Ryder go into work mode. Not pleasant, yet knowing vaguely what his job was, she couldn't blame him for compartmentalizing.

  "Was on your shuttle too," he added.

  "Oh." Mayhem was already there, but she wasn't, and her lips rounded as it made sense. She'd insisted on coming late because of Nolan and Bianca. It wasn't as if Mayhem was going to let her fly into Vegas unescorted. No telling who else was on her plane that she might not have
recognized. Their concern wouldn't be the dozens of gang kings coming into town to meet with Mayhem leadership. None would dare hurt her. But unaware criminals of the world might not know who and what she was—untouchable and Cullen Blackburn's daughter, protected by many decades of favors and history, across many clubs and organizations.

  "My own security detail?"

  Ethan winked. He might've been the club's treasurer, but he was the roughest financial bean counter she'd ever crossed. "At your service—you're doing okay?"

  His eyes dropped to her purse, and she followed his gaze. Inside, there were an obscene amount of origami figurines. It wasn't as if she could do much blanket folding while she was on a plane and, knowing that Jax and Mayhem were heavy on her mind, Seven had grabbed a stack of crisp stock paper on her way out the door. Creasing each piece had given her a small cathartic release even if she'd had to meditate through a moment when the curious woman in the seat beside her had picked one up, asked to keep it, and crushed it when she'd shoved it into her seatback compartment in front of them. Seven had nearly sprouted hives and sweats simultaneously. "I'm fine. Just ready to get started."

  With a quick glance around the clamorous lobby, he nodded. "Going to rest until later?"

  "No." Seven stepped forward as the line moved. "Hawke has me posted down here, looping him in on who's coming and going before tonight."

  "Gotta keep your eyes open this time."

  She rolled them instead. "I will when I have to."

  "Next, please!" called a man from the hotel desk check-in.

  Guess she wasn't paying attention. "That's me."

  Ethan grumbled toward the man who'd raised his voice. "We hear ya."

  "Catch you tonight." She wheeled her suitcase away as Ethan gave a curt wave, but he kept his glare on the front desk, never officially signing off from his Seven-babysitting duty. A Mayhem man's job was never done. Her insides warmed knowing they would always have her back. Stopping in front of the awaiting man, Seven beamed cheerfully, like an antidote to Ethan's death stare. "Hi, checking in. Seven Blackburn."