Jax (Titan #9)(34)

Hernán shook his head, digging in to the feast in front of him. "Never. To be so bold without my explicit permission? Unacceptable."

She speared a piece of meat on her plate, raised it to her mouth, and chewed deliberately. "You trust them too much."

Her words sank in as they feasted on dinner. Interesting that she was positing ideas without solutions. She couldn't see the whole picture, either, and maybe that was the problem.

"Hawke would," she finally assessed. "He's in the MC for the club, not for himself. He'd choose the organization's greater good over one of self-satisfaction."

Hernán cut into the Kobe beef, and the bloody meat melted like butter as he thought about what she'd said. For as long as he'd known Hawke, that was true. The man's life was dedicated to his motorcycle club, and that was one of the reasons why he was an excellent distribution partner. The club wanted to make money; so did Hernán. The club wanted to stay protected. So did he. But if the club wanted to get out and there was a vote, then Esmeralda was right. It was Johnny, who even if they had turned, was the weakest link for both of them. "We'll have to find more pressure points than just the one that sat at our table."

Esmeralda nodded. "Something painful to keep our friends in line."

That sounded like his wife, the business partner he knew so well. She loved to work in pain, and that worked with his business acumen. "What do we know…"

"Not enough right now." She stabbed a piece of meat, and as she picked it up and held it before her lips, the rare meat dripped blood onto the plate. "Send Jorge Torres."

Hernán faltered for a moment, not expecting his name to be worked into the conversation. "Why would you suggest him?"

"I have found that he is exceptional at seeing who is expendable and seeing who creates action." She took a long moment to enjoy her beef. "There's a fine line between squeezing the life out of someone that no one will remember and doing so to one person that will ruin the life of many. He knows how to figure out the difference."

They finished their dinner in silence, then the server came over and exchanged their main course plates for cheese and fruit. Esmeralda was likely lost in imaginary thoughts of how to do the killing, and he wondered if she was right, if Torres was the right person for the job or if that was too strong of a play.

Hernán plucked a grape from his plate and reached across the table, feeding it to her. Her lips wrapped around his fingers as she took it from him, and everything made sense. The Ying to his Yang, the diabolical to his fanatical. "I'll call him in the morning and send him to the United States."





CHAPTER NINETEEN


"Open up!" Seven banged on Johnny's door again after trying the handle. "Damn it, Johnny."

She wasn't sure when was the last time he'd used his lock. Hell, she didn't even know if he had a set of keys to his own place. This time, she hauled off and kicked the door. "Open. Up. Now."

The door across the hallway opened. "Everything okay, Seven?"

She smiled at Mrs. Reed, the woman who turned a blind eye to everything Johnny did and who had made her coffee cake on Sundays when she lived there. "Just want to make sure my ex-hubby isn't dead."

"He was stomping around earlier."

"Good. Thanks, Mrs. Reed."

"Tell your parents that I say hello."

"Will do." Seven smiled as best she could, waited until Mrs. Reed's door shut, then turned around to beat Johnny's door down. His bike was downstairs, and he'd been avoiding her for days. He could've left in a car with someone else, but that didn't feel right. "Johnny, I'm not leaving. I even brought snacks if I had to stay here all day."

The door clicked, and the handle turned, then it cracked open a few inches.

"Hello in there." She tried to push in but got nowhere.

"You're a persistent pain in my ass." Dark circles and red eyes met her stare. "Go home. I'm alive."

"We need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about, sweet lips."

Seven gave him a big, fake grin. "Good. Then I have to pee. Let me in."

"Jesus, you don't give up."

With both hands, she slapped the door. "Nope. Scoot over." After she pushed through, she waved her hand at the stale air. "Crack a window. It smells like cigarettes and dope in here. Gah."

"Shove it."

"It's almost foggy." Instead of going to the bathroom, she dropped onto the couch. "I didn't have to go."

He rolled his eyes and eased into a recliner. "Of course."

"So, how ya been?"

"Fine."

"Johnny…" She assessed him. Bloodshot eyes. Dark circles. Pale skin. Wrinkled clothes. The place needed fresh air, and there were stacks of pizza boxes within arm's length. "Where have you been?"

"Working."

"Where? Doing what?"

"Ease up, Seven. All right?"

She shook her head. "No, sir. If you're going to fall head first into a pile of blow and smoke dope until you can't see straight, I'd at least like you to answer the phone when I call."

"Don't know where it is." He shrugged. "And I didn't hear it ring."