It's Hard Not to Hate - An Outlaw Love Story

Chapter Sixteen.

Jax strolled into the clubhouse, a permanent smile plastered on his face. He was basically bouncing as he walked; he was on cloud fucking nine. He had feelings for Taylor, real feelings, and he was bound and determined to make this work.

The clubhouse was surprisingly empty; the place was usually packed wall to wall with bodies, the brothers usually drinking and playing pool, the crow eaters gathered around in their barely-there attire attracting the attention of whoever would pay them mind. He did see two familiar faces, the two who he knew would give him the most shit. He wished there was a way to avoid them.

Chibs and Tig sat at a table, three women surrounding them, fawning over them like they were Roman Gods; they were far from it. He nodded their way as he strutted by.

"What's got you so happy, Jacky boy?" Chibs chided.

"Just in a good mood," he said as he turned to face them.

Tig practically jumped from his chair, his index finger extending and pointing at Jax. "You fucked the babysitter." He turned to Chibs and the women, shouting. "He fucked the babysitter!"

"She has a name, you asshole." He gave Tig a playful shove. "Be respectful."

"You didn't deny it, you son of a bitch," he responded, slinging an arm around Jax's neck. Jax shrugged out from under his hold.

"Yeah but I didn't admit to it either."

"How was it? I bet it was so hot. God, I'd love to bury my face in that tight pu-" Tig quickly shut his mouth when he noticed Jax's jaw was clenched tight, his fists trembling at his side. Tig flashed him an apologetic smile and Jax tried to relax. Not too long ago he would have been saying the same things. He flipped the men off and made his way to his apartment. Gemma was at his house with Abel and he was in no mood to hear her lectures of disapproval.

As Jax showered he pushed Tig's words out of his mind, along with any concerns regarding his mom, and allowed his mind to wander back to hours earlier. He had never known such a feeling of satisfaction, of peace and fulfillment. He had longed for this, since he could remember, and here it was in front of him. A shot at true love. He hadn't meant to take things that far; he wanted to show her that he was serious, that she was different than all the rest. But once he kissed her he knew there was no going back. Her lips were so soft on his, her fingers seared his skin as they danced around his back. He couldn't stop. He wanted to know her in the most intimate way. And the feeling of being inside her, the sound of her calling his name as she reached her breaking point, were things he only wished he could experience forever.

After dressing and slicking back his hair Jax pulled on his kutte and jogged out to his bike. It was only seven thirty, but he wanted to be on time to pick Taylor up, early even. He wanted to show her he could be a true gentleman.

Tig was planted under the awning, a joint between his lips, and he pounced on Jax the moment he came into view.

"Where're you off to?"

Jax sighed, bothered by the third degree. "A date."

"A what?!" Tig squealed. "Since when the fuck do you go on dates?" Jax straddled his bike, pulling on his helmet, and hoped Tig would get the hint to back off. He didn't; he stood in front of the bike, his hands on the handlebars as he leaned forward into Jax's face, a wicked grin exposing his tobacco-stained teeth. "This girl has got you pussy whipped, dude."

"I'm trying to be a decent guy," Jax sneered. "I really like her. And it's different than anything I've ever felt before. I want to give it a chance."

"So that means telling her all the shit that goes down in this club?"

"Yeah, if that's what I need to do. I'm tired of bouncing around woman to woman. My son deserves better. Fuck, I deserve better. I've never found someone I felt strongly enough for to want to change. Not until now."

Tig held his hands up and nodded. "Enjoy your date."

Jax sped off into the streets of Charming. The sun had just tucked below the horizon, the weather becoming chilly, and the wind that whipped his face turned his skin a soft shade of pink. As he moved in and out of traffic with an elegance that had taken years to perfect, he passed a pack of bikers heading in the opposite direction. He couldn't tell who they belonged to, but they weren't SAMCRO, that he knew for sure. It wasn't until they changed their course that he recognized the patches sewn into their leather, the pack of four men now following him, their headlights illuminating his form and casting his shadow over the cars he passed.

"Fuck," Jax muttered. They were Mayans. A rival gang, one that, though sometimes were on decent terms with the Sons, were currently on the outs due to a run gone wrong that ended in the death of one of their members.

Jax revved his engine, his speeds becoming increasingly dangerous, weaving his bike in between cars, doing his best to lose them. But there was one of him, and four of them, and they looked as if they had no intention of backing down. This obviously wasn't a planned hit, Alvarez knew better than to send his men after a VP. They were going against direct orders from their president, and Jax chuckled thinking of the punishment they would receive once their indiscretion came to light.

As they gained traction on him Jax heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots ringing out, filling the night air. He couldn't see the bullets, he had no way too know if he was in their direct line of fire, but the pops were getting louder; they were getting closer. He ducked down, leaning forward on his bike, trying his best to stay out of the path of the bullets. He had nowhere to go but forward. Jax reached into his holster and pulled out his pistol, holding his arm straight out behind him. He began shooting toward the bikes, doing his best to avoid civilians. He was trying to scare them away, more than anything. Without backup there wasn't much more he could do.

The headlights backed off, cloaking Jax in darkness again, and he let out the breath that he had been holding. He slowed his speed, reaching to grab his phone to call Clay and notify him of what transpired. Before he could react he heard on final shot, it was close, followed by a hot, searing pain as the bullet made contact with his flesh. The pain was agonizing, and he instinctively reached down to make contact with the wound. As he touched his leg his handlebars shifted, ever so slightly, but just enough to send him over a rough patch of gravel he normally would've avoided. The bike skidded out of control, and Jax made contact with the concrete, hard, before coming to rest on a grassy knoll next to the now mostly deserted road.

He screamed aloud as pain wracked his entire body. His hands shook as he pulled out his phone. It was cracked but still appeared to be working. He dialed the clubhouse, hoping someone, anyone, would answer.

"Who the fuck is this?" Happy barked as he answered the phone.

"Happy, it's Jax. I need help."