Jax (Titan #9)(22)

Jared paced as he cracked his knuckles. "I see what you did there."

Hernán didn't say anything. He popped an olive into his mouth and smirked.

"We're going to take a break today. I will contact you when we can sit down again. Sound good?"

"Excellent. I assume that business will continue as normal in the meantime?"

Jax was almost impressed at the cartel leader's play. No, he took that back. He was impressed. Hernán had done his research and knew his adversary. He'd gone on the offensive and spiked the play, and it had worked. Hernán's goal had to preserve the production and distribution with the best possible apparatus, and he still had that.

Today was a good day for the Suarez cartel and, technically, a good one for Titan. Jared and Jax were neutral negotiators. They couldn't make Mayhem behave. All he and Jared could do was flag the problem, but they weren't expected to predict the future. In a way, they had made a friend in a dangerous place, which was always handy.

Hawke and Johnny came in from the balcony, and Mayhem's president moved to the cartel king. Hawke extended his hand to Hernán. "I'd like to table this. We're still interested in talking about other distribution options, but for now, status quo remains in effect."

Hernán shook Hawke's hand, and Jax was already walking toward the exit. They would get a phone call when they needed to be brought back in, but he wanted no part in this anymore.

As Jax stalked out of the private dining room, he passed by an alcove where Esmeralda was propped against the wall, shining. Her job as Hernán's number two had been executed flawlessly.





CHAPTER TWELVE


The long day in the unknown city had been never-ending, and Jax walked along the busy street in the humid night. He tossed back a beer with Jared and Winters but didn't feel the crowd at his hotel bar.

Maybe the main strip was the problem, so Jax turned off at the corner and took a deep breath as the crowd thinned. Nightlife still existed. Restaurants and bars dotted the blocks as he powered his way through the late night, but he didn't have to deal with work friends or tourists on vacation.

A line of motorcycles parked in front of a no-name bar piqued his interest, and Jax slowed long enough to decide that heading inside was a bad mistake he wanted to make.

Life was easier when he had an enemy to focus on, and whether that was some random motorcycle gang to get in trouble with or sharing a few words with Johnny, Jax was in the mood.

He pushed through the worn wooden door into the neon-lit smoky room and saw more Mayhem than he'd expected. The men wore leather cuts in case anyone needed a primer in who they were, but it was the lone female holding court in the middle of the bar that made Jax slow his angry steps.

More shocking than the amount of Mayhem members, he simply hadn't expected Seven to be in Colombia. She was a grown woman, and if she wanted to travel with her friends and get into MC business, that wasn't his problem. But there she was, a beauty in the sea of ugly, and even if she had been one of a thousand women dressed like his fantasy, he still would have been drawn to the sweetness that danced in her eyes.

Jax walked straight to her, slowing only to give Hawke the respect of a handshake.

Seven had her back pressed against the bar, her elbows leaning on the bartop. She turned her head as he walked up, and the two Mayhem members she was talking to took a walk.

Jax planted in front of her so there was no question who she should be looking at. "Seven."

"Aren't you supposed to be with the rest of the stick-in-the-mud soldiers? Don't you guys debrief or something into the middle of the night and then get shut-eye?"

Tonight she was a tough girl. And angry at that… Titan hadn't come through. Mayhem had screwed up, and Jax couldn't tell if her smirk and tone were because she had a general distrust of the world or only of him. Did she blame him because the meeting had gone so bad so quickly? For whatever reason, she was in a sour mood, similar to him. "I'm not a soldier, sweetheart. I'm a SEAL."

Seven formed her lips into an overexaggerated O then followed it with an accompanying "Oh."

He chuckled, tossing his head back, and turned, leaning against the bar like she did.

Acting annoyed, Seven inched away. "What's so funny?"

"That's not the normal reaction," he said.

"Of course not." She tilted her head and erased the inches she'd put between them without leaving the too-cool-for-school lounge against the bar. "Pray tell, hot shot. What's the normal reaction?"

There were a million things he could tell her about what women did when he said he was a Navy SEAL. But Seven didn't do any of those things. She was impossible to predict, and even when he thought he knew something about her, he was far off base.

Her elbow touched his. The only thing Jax knew about normal reactions was his to her, and he pushed from the bar, wrapping around her chest and caging Seven to the bar with his forearms.

"Normally," Jax said quietly, tilting his lips close to her ear. "If I say that I'm a SEAL, it sets off a chain reaction that can't be seen."

He pulled back enough to hold her eyes, and Seven didn't flinch. "Tell me."

"The reactions I can't see?" Jax eased closer, dropping his voice low. "Fantasies. Wet panties. Needy clits. Tightening, begging pussies." He raked his gaze from her head to her tits as slowly as he could possibly manage, lingering over the outline of her nipples in her T-shirt. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"