CHAPTER EIGHT

 

The row of motorcycles in front of the Mayhem compound made Jax uneasy. This entire job wasn't what he was cut out for, given his disdain for gangs in general, even if they went by club and had pretty girls that fascinated him as a distractible decoy.

Jax was semi-convinced Jared had assigned him to partner on this project as punishment, and it had nothing to do with sharpening his skills or his ability to establish a working relationship with Seven.

Boss Man wasn't wrong, though. Diplomatic relations weren't his strong suit. Diplomacy with the criminal sect only served to irritate the piss out of him and grate his bad attitude from generally unfriendly to watchfully distrustful.

"You ready, brother?" Jared glanced his way before he dropped his fist against the door.

The setting sun beat down on Jax's back as the faint odor of motor oil and stale beer promised what was in store inside. "Yeah."

Whether he was or not didn't matter since Boss Man had already pounded on Mayhem's door and security cameras had them on lock since the moment they'd pulled into the parking lot.

Mayhem supposedly did custom auto and bike work and some repairs for locals. Jax was sure it was a front, though. Mayhem's reputation for turning out custom stunners had attracted big money normally spent in New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. At least that was what Jax had read. He didn't know or care, mostly because he didn't believe it was their source of income as much as they purported, simply a cover for everything illegal.

Plus, half the auto body shop seemed filled with MC bikes, not moneymaking repairs. There wasn't a row of minivans waiting for oil changes or sedans needing to have dings buffed out. No soccer mom would schedule an appointment there after a drive-by glance of the chain-link fences with barbed wire and skulls marking the entrance.

"A lot of bikes lined up." Jax squinted over his shoulder, counting the Harleys by twos.

He and Jared were supposed to have a two-on-two meeting to discuss a sit-down in Colombia, South America, at the source of the cocaine and Mayhem's money, the home base of Hernán Suarez's cartel. Jax had walked away from the first phone discussion with Mayhem, believing there would be only the four of them on the grounds, not just in the room. Mayhem wasn't playing by the rules. Why wasn't he surprised?

The door opened, and a gruff man mirrored Jared in too many ways. Eerie as hell as Jax took in the guy's dark hair and dark eyes. Jared Gone Wrong had a salt-and-pepper five o'clock shadow and wore his leather vest that the bikers called their "cut" with the Mayhem insignia on the chest. The title of president was stitched high on his right side, and he held his hand out to Jared. "Welcome to Mayhem. Hawke."

"Jared." Boss Man met Hawke's grip. They shook, and Jared stepped aside and gestured toward Jax. "That's Jax."

Jax stepped into the cool shadow of the compound's front entryway and shook Hawke's hand as well, expecting a challenging fight in the grip, but the honest handshake was steadfast. "Nice to meet you."

"Before you're invited in, respectfully, I'd like you to unload your clips and barrels. Don't care if you keep them on you. But the bullets go in the bucket."

Out of the corner of Jax's eye, he caught Jared's jaw flexing.

Boss Man shook his head. "Your house, your rules. I'm always clear, but maybe you didn't understand when we spoke before. There's a lot of bikes out here, and the only ones involved today are me and my guy, you and your guy."

Hawke crossed his arms and took a step back. "There's three others here. And no, I didn't take that away from our conversation. Don't take that as any disrespect. My vice president, my sergeant at arms, and my treasurer. They're here. I want them here. It will go a long way. The rest of them are watching the ball game back in the garage. They have no idea what's happening, and I don't want them to yet. Take that for what it's worth. My head is on a platter if this comes out before it should."

Jared seemed to like Hawke's honesty, and he stepped forward. "We're not unloading."

Hell, they weren't going to make it in the hall. Maybe Jax wouldn't have to worry about dealing with this job. Unarmed and outnumbered in a gang compound? Seems to Jax that they should've brought their own backup. Not that Parker didn't have a tracker on their vehicle and know their exact moves, and there was a team waiting close by if anything went wrong. Still, outnumbered was outnumbered, and this was lesson number one in diplomatic relations: You don't always fucking get what you want.

"Don't shoot anyone." Hawke turned down the dark hall, and they followed as the heavy door slammed and locked behind Jax.

Maybe lesson number one was actually don't make the first demand. Mayhem needed them. Jared could take their contract and money or not. He wasn't hard-pressed.

They wound through the dark hall with the Mayhem insignia on the walls and stale beer and cigarettes staining the air. It reminded Jax of his days in shitty bars after escaping basic training. There'd been no money and lots of stress to blow off. The place stunk like BO, sex, drunken nights, and forgotten memories.

Finally, the hall opened into a main room much larger than Jax expected, filled with pool tables, darts, a foosball table, and a long, fully stocked bar. Draft taps lined the top near a sliding glass door enclosing an outdoor patio the size of a parking lot. Barbecues and metal coolers sat near a raised platform with trash cans and beer kegs strewn at random.

"Through here." Hawke gestured as they cut across the pool table room and came to an ornately carved double wood door. Hawke banged his fist on a giant knocker as he walked past, and they continued through another carved door into a room next to the one Hawke banged on.

Once inside, an adjoining door opened, and three men walked in from the other room. Hawke made quick introductions, explaining who Jax and Jared were, then ticked off names. Tex was the sergeant at arms, Johnny was a vice president, and Ethan was the treasurer.

They took seats at the table, and Hawke eyed his men. His passing glance was a firm reminder that Mayhem was to remain a united front. Interesting to pick up on a slight disagreement in the ranks.

Johnny reacted the most. The other two didn't change their slouch when the VP cleared his throat as though signaling it was time to get down to business.

Hawke scowled at Johnny. "This is how we'd like it to—"

"And I appreciate how you'd like things to go," Jared cut off Hawke. "You gave us intel before we arrived. Distribution plans, financials, potential replacement partners, and the ideal buyouts. I know what you'd like."

Hawke's lips tightened, and Tex shifted to keep Johnny in his peripheral.

No one in Mayhem had to say who their problem child was as Johnny crossed his arms and groused.

Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe we—" His glare started with Hawke but ended on Jared—"haven't been briefed on your ideal situation."

Boss Man inched forward, challenging the room.

Hawke ignored Johnny and met Jared's eye. "Our ideal situation is out of the coke game with minimal financial loss and no body count. Does anybody care to amend that?"

Johnny's lip curled. "Minimal financial loss is vague as fuck."

"Johnny, shut your goddamn mouth." Tex turned in his chair and shook his head. "It was a club vote. Out of the drug business. The monetary impact at this point doesn't matter worth shit if we're being honest."

"We're just gonna let these assholes watch out for our bottom dollar?"

"Like Tex said, my friend, watch your goddamn mouth and show a little fucking respect for our guests," Hawke growled.

The only one who hadn't weighed in on the money—or at all—was the treasurer, and Jax wondered what the silent guy was thinking. No reaction, and Ethan didn't even seem interested. "What about you? Everybody has an opinion but you."

Ethan's brows went up toward the bandana that tied back his long hair, and he leaned back as though this were the first time he'd been asked. He pulled a pack of smokes from his back pocket then lit a cigarette. Two long drags later, he let the second cloud of smoke curl from his nostrils. "My interests lie in the longevity of my club. Our membership has spoken, leaders have voted, and it's our job to listen to you and protect Mayhem at all costs."

"Spoken like a true politician." But Jax liked what he said because, through all that hot air and cautious wording, Ethan wanted to stop selling drugs and listen to Titan.

"The Suarez cartel has agreed to meet two from Titan and two from Mayhem. That's it. Was supposed to be like this meeting. But now we have a decision." Jared cracked his knuckles. "Who's it going to be? Hawke and who?"

"Me," Johnny answered as though he'd known the question was coming.

Tex's mouth had only half opened to volunteer, and Ethan eyeballed the two men. Obviously, he wasn't going to volunteer, but there were internal politics at play.

Jared motioned Jax to the door as he stood. "We'll give you a few minutes to hammer out who."

Diplomacy 101 was boring unless a person knew the players and their gossip. Jax followed Jared out of the meeting room as tensions escalated. When the door shut, they both just shook their heads. Neither would say a word aloud—no telling if the place was bugged—but they were in agreement. Mayhem should have had their shit straight before they called in Titan. And Jax wondered if he was paranoid or if it felt as though Johnny had the bead on only one person accompanying Hawke?

The meeting-room door swung open, and Hawke and Tex stood there. "Johnny's your number-two man." Tex pushed by Jared, and Jax and didn't bother turning his head when Tex grumbled, "Don't let that greedy motherfucker screw this up."