Jax (Titan #9)(69)

"Good luck with her, buddy. I was stuck with her OCD ass and dropped that load like—"

Seven snapped, slapping Johnny across the face. Before her hand pulled back, he coldcocked her. Seven saw stars then collided into Jax.

The next seconds were a blur. Everything moved quickly, but she was certain that Jax picked her up and put her out of the way, shutting the door as he stepped into the hall with Johnny.

Ow! Dang, her mouth hurt, but working her jaw and tasting blood wasn't her concern. She shouldn't have slapped Johnny. He shouldn't have provoked her, either! They were two people who knew the other's most vulnerable buttons to push. Why had he chosen that moment to push something she couldn't control? In front of Jax! Embarrassment had made her reaction that much worse, and Jax, who she was now married to, had no idea. There was so much wrong with this problem!

Seven wanted to see what was going on in the hallway. But there were all types of rules when it came to Mayhem, and she was well versed in them as well as their consequences.

But Johnny had hit her, and ex old lady or not, princess or not, there would be fallout. If Jax wanted to whoop Johnny's ass, good for him. But she had words for her ex-husband. At the very least, he was going to see her quickly swelling fat lip.

She pushed off her butt, wrapped the sheet around her all over again, and reached for the door—

Knock, knock. "Open up, princess." Jax's firm voice was an unexpected relief, and Seven threw open the door.

Both men stood there, Johnny much worse for wear. Jax only wore his jeans that hung low on his hips without the benefit of a belt. But it was his anger that had her attention, and it was clear by his scowl and the veins protruding on his neck that he was holding back.

Seven eyed him, and he gave her an approving nod. She stepped closer to the threshold of the door again, narrowing her gaze at Johnny. "Get off the drugs. Hawke could have your patch and cut, you asshole."

Johnny snarled. "Hawke doesn't give two shits who knocks around old ladies."

"You know that's a lie, and don't you dare forget I'm not your old lady."

"Cunt."

Jax let his fist drive an uppercut into Johnny's chin, and her ex's head snapped back. "Johnny, man, say what you have to before my breakfast gets here, or I'll finish this now."

Johnny's nostrils flared, and he worked his jaw. If he weren't high as a kite, Seven knew he would've rebounded. "I didn't mean to say what I said. Or lay a hand on you." His face crossed between stupid and stoned, then he turned and twitched his way toward the elevator. "Bitch."

Jax scoffed but walked into the hotel room.

"He's a winner," she said softly.

Seven wanted to apologize to Jax for bringing the barrier of sucky, shitty ex-husbands that low. But before she got the words out, he eased her into his arms and farther into the hotel room.

"Damn, Seven, he's a mess."

"You're telling me."

Carefully, he tipped her head back, inspecting her chin and lips. "Sorry I didn't hear it sooner."

Which was a reminder of what Jax did hear: how much she cared for him. But Jax was more interested in possible injuries.

"It's not split," she said.

"Not my standard of acceptable."

"I'm a bloody mess. Exactly how you want to spend the first day of wedded bliss."

His face paled, but then he ran his fingertips along her chin. "I've never had a honeymoon before."

Seven grinned though it hurt. "Bonus. Me, neither."

"I'm going to get some ice. Stay here a sec." Jax brushed her hair off her face, helped refashion her sheet around her chest, and walked with her into the kitchenette. With a quick grab of the bucket and a bag, and still only wearing his sexy jeans, he left the hotel room and made it back in what had to be record time. "Are you still doing okay?"

"Other than a little hungry, a little hungover, I'm okay."

"Room service said they would take about an hour. It's almost been an hour." He moved the ice next to her on the counter then easily lifted her up.

Jax the caretaker was surprisingly quiet and gentle, which she hadn't expected. There was still a lot to learn about him.

"Hang on one more minute." He left for the bedroom area, returning with a pillowcase that he wrapped around the ice bag before gently holding it to her chin. He slowly eased it to her lip. "Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah."

He went to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth. "It's damp. I just want to"—he dabbed at her chin and neck, even her wrist where she'd wiped her lip—"clean away some of this."

"My blood?"

He nodded then tossed the rag toward the bathroom floor as though he didn't want to see her blood.

Seven leaned against Jax's bare chest, still holding her ice pack. "Thank you."

He carefully removed the ice and held her. Seven took deep breaths that mimicked his and let his heartbeat play her a comforting song while he stroked her hair.

"Hey, Jax."

"Hmm?" He rubbed strands of her hair between his fingers.

"You have a heart."

"Turns out I do, princess."

The quiet rumbles of laughter in his chest and the quickened pace of his methodical heartbeat calmed her, and for a panicked second, she realized she had a fat lip and a punch-throwing, drugged-out ex-husband, yet her OCD tendencies were compelling her to act. She didn't want to move from this warm spot against Jax's chest and leave his embrace. She wasn't obligated to fold her concerns into neatly folded issues that were more manageable.