Periodically, he came out of his castle with his queen. It was interesting, even if it served a business purpose. He liked to walk in crowds to see how cultures behaved, what they wore, what they spent money on. And when his network of spies and friends inside of the tightest of elite circles told him there was a special meeting of North American drug movers and shakers, Hernán desired to be in town at the same time.
Esmeralda did not. Her biggest complaint was the food, but that was one area he did not budge on. When they were in the US, they dined like Americans. And not the type that could afford to eat at Esmeralda's restaurant on the regular, rather the kind that would invest every last penny in the white nose candy that made him and his wife so wealthy. That meant, for breakfast, the greasy food would have an aftertaste, and bitter coffee was made tolerable only by additives.
"Are you ready, my dear?" He also used this time to work on his English and on removing as much of the Colombian accent as possible. That was more of a hobby than a necessity, but he so enjoyed it.
Esmeralda, not so much. "Si."
It would be one of those days where he would have to make sure she knew how much he appreciated her. They'd left their expensive suite under the cover of rich disguise and had followed the concierge's list of best, mid-priced establishments for breakfast.
The morning sun warmed his back as they fell into step with milling crowds of tourists and promoters, pickpockets and pros. "Shall I pick one on the list or—"
"I do not care."
Esmerelda would need much attention.
"The closest to the hotel, then." He took her cold hand, unaccustomed to her height in her athletic shoes, and they started down the sidewalk for their breakfast destination. "We'll cross at the first light."
"Hmm."
What would she like to make her feel better? Champagne and caviar. Emeralds were her favorite jewel, mostly because she was named after them and had a room dedicated to her collection like some women showed off their shoes and handbags. Maybe a trip somewhere she wanted to go. Venice? Hadn't she mentioned that recently?
A sweaty, heavyset man in a cotton shirt that belonged under a normal shirt bumped into them—elbowing away without a word. Hernán swallowed away his disdain, but Esmeralda dug her fingernails into his hand, sinking her painted claws into his flesh. Sometimes, she needed to expel her unhappiness with pain, and he didn't mind the little bites. It was easier to let the levees be opened when needed lest she be overrun with a sadistic explosion that was far harder to control.
A man in a leather cut pushed past a family of four, almost knocking the mother into the street. The gangs were in Vegas… and that was a Mayhem insignia.
"Hernán." Esmerelda's nails came free as she inched close.
But by the time the man had crossed, Hernán didn't need his wife to point out Johnny Miller as he twitched and jerked across the street, storming and stamping with evident anger.
Hernán's eyes narrowed, and with the tilt of his head, he ordered one of his guards to peel off and follow Johnny. Mayhem's vice president was visibly upset and coming down from what looked like meth.
They crossed with the crowd as the light changed and watched Johnny until Hernán could no longer see him.
"Does that mean what I think?" Esmeralda's hopeful voice meant the breakfast outing wasn't a total lost cause in her mind.
"There are problems in the rank, and their leaders are using the product." Perhaps it was time to run Jorge's report about Johnny's children by his Esmeralda.
They arrived in front of the breakfast recommendation, but Hernán didn't go in yet. If he told her about the possibility of using Johnny's children as a pressure point to keep Mayhem in place, she might want his kids, anyway. Though Hernán could always get her other children if Johnny's didn't work out in negotiations and made a note to have Jorge arrange for options.
"My dear, at the very basic level, what is in our best interest?" She hated games but let him have them at times.
She scoffed then held out her fingernails and checked her manicure. "Mayhem remains in distribution. They keep the status quo."
"Yes." Reminding her of this was needed. "It costs too much time and money to switch distributors. If we had to." He shrugged. "But if we didn't… how could we use Johnny to convince Mayhem to revote?"
"We don't." She dropped her hand. "We torture and kill him then send his body back in pieces. I'll sign the final note that tells them not to try and renegotiate their contract—anything that keeps me from this breakfast again."
"Oh, my beautiful one." Hernán contained his amusement and could've said her response verbatim before she did. "That won't work long-term and teaches no lessons. They might renegotiate again in a few years."
Esmerelda took his hand and kissed it. "Maybe you've forgotten how good I am with body parts in Ziploc bags, mi alma."
No containing his laughter that time. "What if, instead, you get a request you've often made and Mayhem will forever behave. A gift for you and non-negotiable terms for them."
Her eyes went wide as her lips sealed. Patience for surprises wasn't her strong suit. But she knew any gift he'd ever given to her was very special and well meaning. "Tell me."
He inched closer and put his hands on her face, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. "Johnny Miller has children."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The hotel restaurant buzzed with the chatter of the always-eclectic Vegas lunch crowd, mixing with the clink of forks and knives and the not-too-far-away shuffle of people moving through the busy hotel. Jared had mentioned to Jax that they would meet up to discuss this evening's Mayhem meeting, but when Jax got the text message to join Boss Man for lunch, it caught him off guard. The trip wasn't a vacation, and Jax needed to remember he was there for work.
After checking in with the hostess, Jax was directed to the back room. Jared must have scared the bejesus out of the woman or issued a warning because she simply pointed in the direction he was supposed to go. After he followed the line of tables and turned the corner to a more secluded, slightly quieter side of the restaurant, Jax saw a row of private dining areas with glass doors. Some had curtains that could be shut, some were already drawn, others were wide open, and some were empty. Others were not. At the end, Jared waited against the wall, one boot kicked on top of the other and his arms crossed. He looked as though he were studying his phone, but Jax wasn't stupid and knew that Boss Man had a bead on every person that moved in any direction.
"Hey," he greeted his team leader. "Been here long?"
"Nah." Jared tilted his head, directing Jax into the small room, then shut the door behind them. The drape fell into place and obscured the last of the public views. There was an opening on each side so that Jax could see who came by one side and Jared the other, so neither one of them was sitting blind in a box. Jax hadn't asked, but with as many security cameras as there were in the building, along with all of the players and personalities and firepower that walked the halls, he was fairly certain Parker had all of Titan's IT resources working overtime. There were probably eyes on them and everywhere else.
"What's Sugar up to this afternoon?" Jax asked as he leaned back in the plush chair.
Jared chuckled. "Getting her talons worked on—or a manicure, whatever she wants to call it."
Jax laughed, and a knock sounded on the door before their waitress came in.
They took a moment to peruse the menus quickly before deciding on waters, New York strips, loaded baked potatoes, and broccoli. Bread quickly came after that, and it was placed right next to the small device on the table that Jax was familiar with. The contraption made sure that if there were any listening devices in the room, their signals were scrambled. No one could hear what they were saying, though the device wouldn't mess with their phones.
"About last night," Jared started, leaning back in his chair and popping a piece of bread in his mouth. "Give me a rundown of what you learned."
Good thing that Jax c
ould remember everything important about the meeting. It had been a stupid move to drink more than he needed, even if he'd been off the clock. Jax focused on the important stuff in regard to work, leaving out the part where he'd gotten drunk and married. "Hawke's pretty levelheaded. He was able to keep rivals civil, converse with people he probably didn't like much, and work the room like a politician. If he spent any extra time with any one group, I'd say he's favoring The Brotherhood. They're both MCs. They have all of their motorcycle shit in common."
"Was that something he was leaning on, motorcycles, or did it seem as though they were talking business?"
"No one was negotiating. Booze, blow jobs, blow. Not a lot of business."
Jared snickered. "Ah, your typical Jax Michaelson social gathering."
"Exactly my type of crew," he groused. Booze, he could handle. Everything else, Jax would rather not. He didn't want to see it; he didn't want to know about it. "But it was more than a comfort level. There was trust there more than familiarity. They had a level of professional respect, and I think it will translate to tonight."
Jared nodded. "Noted. What else you got?"
"One more thing about The Brotherhood. Seven described their president as a robot. So much so, he actually goes by Bot. I think that works in favor of Mayhem handing the distribution off to them because Hawke and Tex don't want any drama. A guy named Robot? That sounds low drama to me."
"Hawke and Tex. Those are the two I'm not gonna worry about." Jared raised his eyebrows. "You saw Johnny, though?"
"About Johnny. That's going to be… a more complicated discussion."
"I excel at simplifying complicated."
At least one of them could. "I've confirmed he's not a fan of Titan."
"Imagine that," Jared grumble–laughed.
Jax recalled the amount of restraint it took not to tear Johnny apart limb by limb, and it might have been one of the hardest tests he'd ever had in his career. Johnny had to make it to the Mayhem meeting tonight—for Titan, for Seven, and for Mayhem. But if it weren't for that, Jax wasn't sure what it would've taken to stop him. The sight of blood trickling down Seven's chin could've been a catalyst for serious injury.
"Johnny unexpectedly came to Seven's hotel room this morning. They exchanged words… She slapped him, and he swung back." Jax wanted to sound unaffected but was failing. "She took a hard knock to the mouth. It tore up the inside of her lip. Those two have history, but not like that. I think she's more shocked than anything else."
Jax was so deep in his own head that he hadn't focused on Jared, but when he did, Jared's viewpoint had always been crystal clear. Right now looked to be no exception, even if they were in business together.
"And?" Boss Man growled.
"I took him in the hall, explained what I thought of that—with my fists—until Johnny decided it was time to apologize."
Jared's head moved slightly, agreeing, but his anger had not tempered. "If they have history and she didn't see it coming, what the fuck? You?"
"I don't know. Don't think so. Their past is old. Johnny sat across from her last night getting a blow job. Whatever rules ganglandia has, I don't know. Neither seemed jealous." Well, maybe Johnny…
"Then what?"
"He was hopped up and crashing hard."
Jared's eyebrows arched. "Cocaine?"
Jax sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. "I'm no expert, but yeah, maybe coke and something else. He was twitching, jerking. Meth? Dust? I don't know that shit."
Jared mulled in silence. Then their waitress knocked and brought their food. After they had both taken a moment to dig into their steak and potatoes, Jared asked, "How does Hernán not know this? The Irish and the Russian in a room together? The Niners and the Brotherhood? I get that it's one or two members from each and everybody has a financial incentive to behave. But still."
"I don't see how he doesn't know." If he were Hernán, Jax would be there. He would be in the hotel lobby, watching every single person try to betray his negotiated agreements. Hernán wasn't stupid, and his wife was known for many things but not stupidity or sanity. "Seven is confident, though, that Hernán is unaware."
Jared took another sip of water. "I hope to hell she's not naïve."
Jax shrugged. "I think she's idealistic. But I don't think naïve." Idealistic about a motorcycle gang—as if that wasn't a crazy oxymoron.
"What else is going on with you, Jax?" Jared used wiped his mouth with his linen napkin and leaned back in his chair.
He ran a hand over his face, hoping the dark circles and lack of sleep weren't showing. "Not much."
Boss Man dropped his chin. "How about that bruise?"
Jax ran his hand along his jawline. "I told you, brawl with Johnny."
"Not that one." Jared's eyes narrowed on his left hand. "That one."
Jax looked at the hand from which he'd slipped off his wedding band before he walked in to lunch. Seven had ranted and raged that getting married was an accident, and Jax didn't want his boss to think he was irresponsible. The whole thing was confusing, but Jared asking about his hand unnerved the hell out of Jax.
Jax brought his hand down and looked at his knuckles, red and raw, nothing unexpected from a scuffle. But there was an unexpected bruise on the top of his left ring finger, near the knuckle, that mimicked where his ring had been. "I don't know."
Jared harrumphed, making a disapproving, disbelieving grumble. "Right." He stood up, tossing down his napkin. "Lunch has been taken care of. Leave whenever you're ready, but I have to roll, and I'll meet you tonight. Parker will send you any logistical information you need. I'm going to go find my wife."
Jax tore his eyes away from his hand and stood as well.
"Maybe you should do the same."
Boss Man was the master for a reason. He missed nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The hotel room suite echoed in silence as Seven lay in the middle of the freshly made bed and tried to contemplate trivial life decisions. Should she change hair colors? Maybe another piercing was a safer adrenaline rush than falling for Jax Michaelson. But no, that was not where her mind wandered. "I'm married."
And now that she'd finished freaking out, the idea that he was hers… Seven smiled. But that freaked her out. How could this have happened? She grabbed her phone off the charger and called Victoria.
"Hey," her best friend answered more gruffly than expected. "Glad you called. I need somebody to talk to who's not going to drive me crazy."
"Are the kids acting up?"
"Oh no. Ryder is acting up. Sort of. I may've been in the wrong, but he's overreacting."
"How are my kiddos?"
"Perfect. They're running around outside with him who shall not be named—"
"Your new husband?"
"Yes. Him. And they're angels, like always."
Seven snickered. "I can't believe that sweet, Aussie hottie could possibly be the cause of any headaches."
"That hot Australian is driving me nuts. Bat shit. Absolutely bonkers."
"Really?" Seven crawled up to the top of the bed and shoved the pillows behind her, propping herself up in anticipation of listening to the tales of a honeymoon-gone-wrong story. "You have to be very convincing for me not to take Ryder's side," Seven teased, knowing full well she would never do that. "What gives in the land of lovers? Last time I saw you two, it was all googly love faces and smoochy kisses. I wanted to puke."
"We were newlyweds. I'm pretty sure life has returned to normal. No more nausea for you."
"I was just kidding, and you two were always and will always be cute." She wondered if anyone would ever call her and Jax cute.
"Hope so." She sighed into the phone. "I looked over the first morning of our honeymoon and wondered how did I get so lucky."
Well, hell. Seven laughed at the memory of her morning after. She'd shrieked, nearly fallen out of bed tearing the veil from her hair, and had kicked Jax awake. "That's a dead giveaway that I'm right. It'd be a whole new co
nversation if you woke up, looked over, and wondered, 'what the heck did we do?'"
Victoria scoffed in her ear. "Yeah, how bad would that suck? I bet that happens to people all the time in Vegas."
Seven laughed so hard, she choked. "Yep. Bet so."
"Ryder's mad because I let the pizza delivery guy in."
Her brows pinched, and Seven smoothed her hand over the pillow next to her, trying to remove every last wrinkle and crinkle before asking the most obvious question that came to mind. "You ordered pizza?"
"Exactly!" Victoria grumbled.
At that point, Seven knew Victoria was on the verge of admitting that Ryder was right and she was wrong and at least they would have makeup sex. "You let a delivery guy in who wasn't your delivery guy. I think you both have done more questionable things. Not that I'm one to cast judgment," she added as she stared at her wedding band.
"No, he's right," Victoria lamented. "It was probably harmless. But I let somebody into our house when he had no reason to be there. Both of our careers make that a very bad idea, and it could've gone in another direction faster than I was prepared for."
"I get it. But everything was fine."
"The kids were running around earlier, and I was frazzled, and he showed up with his pizzas, insisting that he had the right address. I was insisting that he didn't. I'd been bribing Nolan to eat, and then he started, and I didn't want to leave him alone with food in his mouth. It was storming outside, and so I told the guy to come in while he made his phone call to figure out where the pizza was going to go—"
"Victoria, take a breath. It's okay." Her exasperation sounded as though she had been self-flogging to excess, whether she'd been called out by Ryder or not.
"You just never know what people's intentions are. It was okay this time, but for all I know, that guy was scoping my house out. He could've been some freak that liked kids. It might not have had anything to do with Ryder and me."
"Now you're just getting paranoid, Victoria. It's not like you've had kids for some freak-show pervert to stalk and obsess over. You know?"
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