Jax (Titan #9)(16)

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."