Jax (Titan #9)(98)

Seven's molars ground, and a headache pulsed at her temples. Engaging with Cullen Blackburn was an exercise in stupidity, but so was avoiding his behavior. "Find your respect for the MC. This is Tex's daughter." Still holding onto Adelia's hand, Seven squeezed back. "I've got him. Will you go to my mom? Make sure she's okay?"

"Sure thing." Adelia took off for Taini, and the added benefit of sending her back to Mom's room was Adelia was like a soldier. Who knew why Seven's dad was there? But if all hell broke loose, Adelia could hold her own protecting Taini while they flagged Mayhem for backup.

Cullen cackled once she was gone. But they were not alone. The nursing home staff, including orderlies, lingered close. Her dad must've been quite the problem.

"Just you and me, kid, like old times."

Nothing would ever be like old times. "Did you break out of prison?"

His greedy grin curled onto his whisker-covered cheeks. "You don't think very highly of your pops, huh?"

"Go back to whatever hole you came from."

"Guess that's a no."

She sneered. "If they won't let you back into federal lockup, find a new hole."

He sucked his cheeks and tilted his head. "There'd be a lot of people pissed off if they heard you talking to me like that, Lucky."

Inside, she seethed, but Seven contained the gut-tearing scream. "Stop calling me Lucky."

He pulled a pack of smokes from his back pocket, tapped out a cigarette, and stuck it behind his ear. "I dunno what Mayhem and Suarez have gotten themselves into, but there are many people unhappy with decisions lately." He pocketed the box as Seven's blood ran cold. "But it worked out well for me. You got me sprung."

She couldn't swallow past the knot in her throat. The feds had let him out? What? The CIA— "Do you know Deacon Lanes?"

His eyebrows bounced. "Doesn't matter who I know, just what I'm supposed to do."

"Stay away from us. The club. Go back."

"And just when I thought it'd be a good time to work on our family relations."

It was the CIA and Deacon. They had done this. The government really was working against Hawke and wanted Mayhem to control the US cocaine distribution, and there was nothing she could do.

Mayhem was ruining her world. Johnny was coked out, speedballing meth, coming down, getting high. Her children lived in fear of people around them dropping dead from overdoses, asking if she was alive after she fell asleep on the couch with her shoes on. Jax and Titan had risked their lives to change the trajectory of the MC, and now Uncle Sam was a goddamned puppet master, pulling strings that she didn't know how to compete with. "Go away. I never want to see you again. Stay away from Mayhem."

"We both know that's never going to happen."

She didn't care, didn't have the right to say anything she thought. But it was time, and she had to make a stand. "Take off your cut."

"From my motorcycle club?" her dad mocked.

"I'll tell them you're working with the feds."

His face went from sarcastic to sadistic, and her dad took bold steps closer until he towered over her. "Lucky, they won't believe you, and then I will kill you." He took another step. "After those two beautiful children—"

"Get out!"

He laughed, taking a step back, and winked. "Always the Mayhem princess. It's in your blood, defending your own until the bloody end."

Seven realized more staff had gathered as though she might need help. Or maybe for Sweet Hills gossip. She'd worked so hard to remove herself from association with Cullen and build a new reputation for her and her mom. "You need to leave."

"Then we'll have this conversation elsewhere." He nodded goodbye to onlookers. "I'll see you at your house on Landover."

He knew where she lived… Numbly, Seven rushed past the check-in desk as the Harley roared out of the parking lot.





CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE


Seven held a mug of coffee between her hands as she paced the length of her kitchen table, watching her father make origami creations out of her mail pile.

He might think that he was cool under pressure, but she knew better. As far back as she could remember, he would make pyramids and buildings out of the junk mail when he was nervous. Cullen would fidget with whatever crisp paper was at his disposal.

It had driven her mother silly. That was how they had always been able to tell when times were tough or Mayhem business was toeing the edge of a brutal decision, from the number of accordion-shaped pieces of paper stacked around the house and pinned down by beer bottles and lighters. No doubt Cullen's time in lockup had only expanded his origami talents—though he'd always gotten in a piss whenever she called it that, saying that was a girly word, that he was just folding shit.

Either way, she knew he wasn't as confident as he seemed.

"You have me alone. What do you want to say here that you couldn't possibly say there?" Seven backed against the wall, inhaling the scent of coffee to keep her calm. She leaned against the wall as though it were just a casual conversation and not one that she'd thought she had years to plan for.

He tossed his papers aside, and Seven gripped her coffee mug as the mess went in every direction, no order to how it landed. Even though he took time to stack and crease the papers, when they landed zigzag, on top of one another, the mess was like fingernails down a chalkboard to her. She wrenched her eyes back to her dad, and he pushed his chair onto the back two legs.