Thanks for all the support you all, I really appreciate it! Here's number two, hope you enjoy it.
Layla shoved the heavy front door of Diosa out of her way, stalking out to her brother's Jeep. Her stilettos clicked angrily on the concrete. She pulled a J from the glove compartment, leaned against the car, and lit up. She definitely needed some stress relief.
This Jax Teller guy?
Asshole.
The other Sons were interested in making some extra cash, making sure their good buddy Nero's niece and nephew were safe. It was easy money, they said. Plus, the weed was great.
But oh, no, the big bad president with the cold blue eyes leaned back in his comfy leather chair and said, "Let them handle their own shit. We're not in the position to take anything else on, and I don't think we should take the risk right now."
Apparently he didn't understand the profit margin his little motorcycle club could be involved in. Layla and Lennon were well on their way to surpassing the Mexican cartel's sales in Cali this year- they were a big fucking deal. For him to be so arrogant, so conceited, to not even give them the time of day to negotiate a deal advantageous to both parties, was just rude.
"It's nothing personal, babe," he's said.
Layla huffed. She'd even worn her best business outfit.
The front door to Diosa opened again, and the Sons all hit the parking lot heading for their respective bikes. Jax, their president, brought up the rear, talking on a cheap burner phone. His eyes were like ice, and his face was set in defiance.
"Look, Tara, I posted your bail and that's all I can do for you right now. I've got the best lawyer in Northern California on retainer for your case," he bit out, kicking the gravel on the ground with the toe of his polished white sneaker.
He sighed, almost growling in frustration. "Don't start that shit with me right now. I'm gonna stay at the clubhouse while you're out."
He paused for a minute, then wearily said "Because I can't give you an answer right now, and I'm not okay with what you did. I can't be around you."
Layla winced, guilt flooding her for ear hustling on what seemed to be an open and honest insight into the president's life. His voice was raw, and she felt out of place and awkward. She was clearly standing right in front of him, however; he could just walk away.
"The boys are fine. They're with me and Gemma. I'll have her bring them over at night if you want to see them," he offered.
"Quit it, damn it," he growled, anger overtaking his tone. "You just got out of jail, you think you can take me to court? You're on trial for murder, and that's not to mention the fact that Abel isn't even your son. I'm sorry that you think I'm ruining your life, but I tried to tell you to get out a long time ago. You can't hang, you never could, and this is what my life is about. I'm trying to make it better, but you just won't give me the time."
He paused for a minute, then sighed again. "Yeah, I'll talk to you later," then snapped the phone shut. He sat down on the curb next to his bike, putting his head in his hands.
Layla subconsciously made a decision, then walked over to him with light footsteps. She touched his leather covered shoulder, and his head snapped up, his angry, haunted gaze pinning hers.
She grinned crookedly and held out her joint.
He cracked a smirk, accepting her peace offering.
"Thanks, darlin'," he nodded at her. He appraised her again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. "You don't seem cut out for the life. You look like you're laced a little straight."
She sighed. "You're quick to judge. I grew up like this. My dad moved green in Dogtown all my life; this is my birthright."
Jax's eyes locked on hers. "Sounds familiar. My dad was a vet, that's how all this shit came to be. He wanted peace."
Layla furrowed her eyebrows. "I haven't heard much about that around here," she replied.
Jax glared at her. "We hit a rough patch," he said shortly, hitting the J again.
She smiled wryly. "I hear you. My dad just wanted us to have a better life, I think, but we're doing the same shit he was. We feel like we don't have any other way to reach where we wanna be. I guess you always turn into your parents."
He returned her smile grimly. "God, I hope not. My mother's batshit crazy in her old age, and there's no hope for my boys if they turn out like me."
"What's so bad about you? Other than your bad attitude, gruff personality, and savage ways of passing the time, that is?" She teased, tilting her head up to watch his face as she put out the J.
He smiled finally, a full blown, white smile that lit up his face. "I do not have a gruff personality," he denied adamantly, standing up to climb on his bike. "I'm a charming motherfucker."
"I don't know," she shrugged. "You seem a little moody."
"I've got a lot ridin' on me," he cocked his head, fastening his helmet. "It's tough bein' king."
"I bet," she smirked. "Absolute power corrupts, haven't you heard?"
He leveled her with an intense gaze. "I've seen it. But sometimes you have to sacrifice for the greater good, even if everyone else thinks you're doing it all wrong."
Nero and Lennon were striding across the lot now, and Jax nodded at them as he gunned his engine. "See you around, darlin'."
Lennon whistled as he watched Jax pull out of the lot, punching it and speeding off toward town. "That bike is..." His voice drifted off as the motorcycle disappeared in the distance.
"You're such a fan girl," Layla teased, shrugging off the haze of such a serious conversation.
Nero shook his head. "Look, I know that didn't go as planned, but you all don't have to rush out. Stay a couple days, get a fresh head before you go back."
Layla raised an eyebrow. "Cool with me, if you can get away from the shop, Len. My finals are over, and I asked for them not to give me shifts at the bar."
Lennon nodded. "I'm gonna flip around some appointments, I think. Time away will be good for us."
...
Chris Riker cut the engine of his Camaro off in the Jones' kids driveway, cautiously stepping out into the front yard. His green eyes dragged the length of the familiar property observantly, searching for any detail that was out of place in the moonlight.
He and Lenny Jones have been best friends since they were three years old, the first time they were sequestered in Chris' playroom with the au pair while their parents partied on a coke binge all night. They stuck together through a lot of shit, and there was very little Chris wouldn't do for his dude.
The only thing that had ever threatened to come between them was Lenny's little sister, Layla. Chris' last five years have been filled with a monstrosity that slightly resembled a relationship, which managed to infuriate, amuse, and disgust Lennon all at once. Layla was the reason Chris lived and breathed; he'd been obsessed with her since she hit puberty, when he knew he had to have her.
He'd been her first, and really only, boyfriend ever. And he missed her.
What he wasn't willing to do for Lenny, he would certainly do for his doe eyed sister.
So, here he was past dark, checking their house to make sure these V13 gangbangers were leaving their shit alone. He was just as pissed that these people were trying to screw his friends as Layla and Lennon were about their livelihood being threatened.
Chris checked and secured the house, then made his way to the back yard, where Lenny and Layla had spent countless hours nursing their hybrid plants to fruition. Their first grow house was in the old garden shed and greenhouse that backed up against the privacy fence. It had been used to store surfboards and supplies for a lot of years, until the Jones' kids had needed somewhere to start up their business.
When they began moving even bigger quantities a couple years back, they moved their plants to a similar building on Chris' own property in Malibu. His father's huge compound gave them plenty of cover to grow and harvest, out of the way of prying eyes.
Chris' eyebrows raised as he surveyed the old grow house. The door was kicked in, and all the windows were smashed. He moved closer across the lawn, placing a hand on the pistol he had tucked into his waistband.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, white boy," a menacing voice sounded in his ear. Chris heard the hammer cock on a gun inches behind his ear. "Who are you?"
Chris straightened, raising his hands slowly. "Chris."
"And what are you doing here, Chris?" The accented voice demanded.
"Checking on the property for the people that live here. They're out of town on business," he explained carefully. Gooseflesh pricked his skin as the cold barrel of the gun came in contact with his skull.
"Where they at?"
Chris shrugged. "Visiting their uncle. I'm not sure where," he answered honestly.
"Let them know they need to come back home," the voice demanded. "And deal with the V13. Before something happens."
The barrel of the gun moved from Chris' head, and some of the tension left his body. His ears barely registered something speeding through the air behind him as something connected with his head.
Everything went black.
...
Gemma Teller-Morrow was a bad bitch.
Layla was captivated by the way she wore her few lines like badges of honor, the way she looked defiant and proud and put together. Her trials were there, on her face, telling the story of a life hard lived, but her eyes were alight with a determination and fierceness that was beautiful. She would bet this woman was cunning and ruthless, but she was a survivor. She looked like she deserved respect.
No wonder Nero was so into her.
Layla and Lennon had been extended an invitation to the first Sons of Anarchy gathering since the former president and Jax's old lady had been arrested, according to Nero. Gemma was holding a barbecue to 'bring everyone together' at Teller-Morrow Automotive.
She was overseeing the beginning of the party with her hands on her hips, dressed to kill. Layla offered to help her with some finishing touches, and Gemma agreed, putting her to work moving food onto the big buffet table immediately.
"So, the boys have been talking about you," she began, as Layla placed a massive bowl of potato salad next to the coleslaw.
Layla raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Gemma nodded. "Frankly, I don't think they need any more on their plate at the moment. You're a pretty face and it sounds like you're in some trouble, but involving the club will only do harm."
Layla blinked. "You sound like you're son."
"Well, he's a smart kid."
Layla shrugged. "It was a business opportunity. I need protection for my business, they were open to hearing a proposal. I'm not going to pressure anyone to take on more than they can handle. I'm just looking for some people to hire."
Gemma leveled her with a fierce gaze. "So you're just a businesswoman, hm?"
"I'm only sticking around to spend some time with my uncle, Momma Bear, don't worry. I haven't seen him enough since I started school," Layla raised her hands in surrender.
The corners of Gemma's mouth quirked, and she nodded. "Good to know."
"Now, may I asked what your intentions are with my Uncle? He's a vulnerable man," Layla joked, placing her hands on her hips as Nero and Lennon strolled over.
"Completely innocent," Gemma raised her hands in surrender. Layla laughed, accepting a beer from her brother as Gemma touched Nero's arm.
"You seem stressed, Mama,"Nero said gently.
Gemma nodded. "You know this could be a turning point," she said. "I just want things to be as normal as possible for the boys, so they remember they're family. I'm going to go check on my babies, I'll be right back."
"Things might be a little tense," Nero warned, catching Layla's curious expression. "Two of the prez's family members were just arrested on murder charges. That's really close to the club."
Layla raised an eyebrow. "Two? More than just his wife?"
Nero nodded. "His stepfather, too."
Talk about having a bad week, Layla mused. "So his stepfather and his wife are running around town committing murder? What, are these people possessed or something?"
Lennon laughed, and Nero grinned. "No, this is just a different kind of place. The Sons live a very dramatic lifestyle. They're gangsters in their own right."
"Sounds like it. Remind me not to hang out with this guy. One of his family members might off me," she mumbled. If these guys had secured enough of Nero's respect to be his partners, Layla knew they'd earned it. Nero had always been a big softie when it came to Layla, Lenny, and his son Lucius, but he was hard to the core. He'd been running the streets so long this brothel business was like a walk in the park.
Nero nodded. "You probably shouldn't hang around him," he agreed affectionately. "These people are just as dangerous as the ones you're dealing with right now. They're outlaws."
Layla was unable to reply, because about a dozen motorcycles roared onto the lot as his sentence came to a close. They were followed by a black van with blacked-out windows, that she thought looked suspiciously like it was riddled with bullet holes.
The president cut his engine and hopped off his bike, pushing past Gemma and ignoring her greetings. He swaggered right up to Layla, his eyes hard enough to cut glass. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Layla's eyebrows shot up. "Having a beer?" she raised her Corona.
Jax growled, slamming his arms on either side of her and effectively pinning her against the side of the building. Lennon and Nero shouted in protest, but the other Sons held them back. "Wanna tell me why these V13 bastards just tried to kill me? Shot up my van? They're a little far north, don't you fucking think?"
Layla felt faint. "What?! That's not possible," she said quietly, fear gripping her stomach. "Nobody knows where we are. Nobody."
Jax snarled. "Apparently somebody does!"
Nero intervened. "Jax, man, are you sure that's who they were? My relationship with Layla has always been low, more to protect her than anything. No one in her life knows who I am or where I live."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's who they fucking were!" Jax exclaimed.
"They told us," Juice added.
"Did they say what they wanted?" Lennon questioned defensively.
"No," Juice shook his head. "They just kind of shouted it out while they pumped bullets in our direction. Filthy Phil pulled the van in the way just in time."
Layla shook her head. "They haven't escalated like that with us. It doesn't make sense."
"Why the fuck else would they be in Charming?" Jax asked, slowly, like he was talking to a five year old.
"Well, I don't know, but you all don't exactly seem to be running a completely clean organization up here," Layla snapped, putting both of her hands on Jax's hard chest and shoving him out of the way. "Why don't you check a little closer to home?"
Jax's reply was cut short as a stretch limo pulled past the gates of the property, catching the group off guard. Every man's hand went to the gun under their cut. The driver exited, opening the passenger door, and a bald black man, mid thirties, exited the automobile.
He adjusted his suit, pinning his gaze on Jax. "Mr. Teller, I've come to apologize about my new associates behavior this evening."
Jax returned his gaze calculatingly. "What are you talking about, Marks?"
"You see, I've entered a new and profitable partnership with the cartel, and their manpower is locally provided by a Latin gang called V13, from Venice Beach and Santa Monica. The leader of V13, Tres, was harassed by a former US Marshal agent today because of our affiliation. It seems that a member of the Sons of Anarchy is trying to incriminate my partners and I, and the V13 love to send a message," Marks explained eloquently.
Layla huffed in victory.
Jax moved closer to the man, shaking his head. "It must be Clay," he explained. "There's a US Marshal up in the club's business because he's gunning for my wife. It wouldn't surprise me if Clay's trying to pin Pope's murder on you and the cartel. He'd be able to use the cartel's grudge against the Sons as a motive for them to set him up."
"Yes," Marks agreed, locking eyes with Jax suspiciously. "I'm sure that's all it is. You need to be careful with these law enforcement officers around, Teller. I don't want any more problems." With that, the boss climbed back into his limo, signaling for his driver to pull out of the lot.
Layla pushed her chin up defiantly. "Like I said, nobody knows where we are."
Jax's eyes snapped back to her face, his face clouded with distraction. "It's just a matter of time before they realize you're in town. You realize these guys are linked to the cartel?"
Layla sighed, accepting she and her brother were no match for international Mexican drug distributors and killers. "Yeah, I got that. Looks like we have a common enemy, and it's a big, bad, bully."
Jax nodded. "Yes, it does, and I'm tired of dealing with them," his face set in determination. "Are you going to be in town tomorrow?"
Layla nodded hesitantly. "More than likely."
"You all should drop by around noon. I think I have an idea."
...
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