AN: SOOO sorry for the long delay. It's been a long, busy month at work - but I'm finally on vacation so now have time to write. It drives me a little crazy that I've had this whole story mapped out for months but have had such little time to write (although I do admit to being a slow writer as I'm somewhat OCD with word selection). Thanks for being patient with me!
Chapter 5: DISTRACTION AND REMORSE
"Has CSU sent over the crime scene report for the Roosevelt-Knowles murders?" Jarry asks the deputy sitting at the desk by her office. It's been days since they've processed all the evidence from the Teller's kitchen and the crime scene cleared, yet so far she hasn't seen or heard shit about the results - despite her repeated inquiries. If she doesn't get that final report soon, she's mounting the CSU Chief's fucking head on a stick.
"Not that I know of, ma'am." The deputy shakes his head. "But you'll want to see this…" He plucks a file folder from one of his stacks and hands it to her. "It's a preliminary report of all the follow-ups done today on the persons of interests. We haven't had a chance to talk to everyone on the list, but most are there. Plus a couple of leads we got in the process."
"Thanks," Jarry smiles appreciatively and takes the file. "When you get a minute, can you text Cane and let him know that I want to talk to him first thing tomorrow morning?"
The deputy nods, and Jarry heads into her office. She really should get home and get some sleep but can't resist the lure of what might be in that file folder. Most of the time these things wind up being a fucking waste of time as the lowlifes they talk to often belong to the "know nothing-see nothing-hear nothing" tribe, assholes who'd rather shoot cops instead of help them. Fucking ironic in this case.
Sitting at her desk, she flips open the file and starts to read…
"Good to see you sitting there where you belong, Pres." Bobby grins at him from across the table while the others nod enthusiastically in accord. Jax tries to smile back, but fails miserably - nodding grimly at all of them instead; although he's grateful for his Brothers' unconditional love and support, he can't get past knowing that Club business somehow led to Tara's murder. Had he just fucking walked away like he promised her...
His hand tightens on the gavel as he forces those thoughts away; nothing's more crippling than guilt, and he can no longer afford to let it shroud and distract him. Reese's right, it's time to use his rage and his resources to hunt down Tara's killer. Even if it means returning to the head of the table she'd come to hate.
He looks pointedly at Juice, sitting quietly in his regular seat, looking sick to his stomach (no doubt still worrying about what Jax's going to do to him for squealing about Darvany's murder). "Juice, I want you to get online and put together some quick intel on Nick Reese, former San Francisco prosecutor now Chief Deputy Attorney General. Especially anything that might link him to Tara. Now."
After Juice scurries off to do his President's bidding, Jax tells the remaining men about his two enlightening - albeit disturbing - encounters with the Chief Deputy AG; how the man seems to be working both with and against Patterson and the new Sheriff - calling the shots in the investigation then revealing the confidential autopsy and crime scene evidence to Jax. He's surprised at how calm and emotionless his voice sounds as he recounts the grisly details of Tara's brutally protracted and agonizing death; he's also surprised that the gavel hasn't splintered in half from his choking, white-knuckled grip.
"Jesus…" Chibs hisses under his breath, wiping his wet eyes with his palms - as if trying to erase the horrifying images invading his brain. Looking around the table, Jax realizes that his VP's not the only one visibly shaken by his painful revelation; every one of his Brothers - hardened career criminals who'd each seen more than a dozen men's fair share of violent death - seems to be struggling with his composure. Even Happy had cringed and closed his eyes.
"So why the hell did this guy tell you all this shit?" Bobby lifts his head from his hands to growl at Jax. "How do you know he's not trying to manipulate you into retaliating and then take you down for all of it?"
"I don't know," Jax admits; despite the fact Reese handed over all the intel that Patterson had denied him, he didn't trust the over-polished prick. "Nothing the guy's done has made any fucking sense to me. That's why I want Juice to check him out. Rosen's told me some shit about him, but nothing that tells me why he'd be so interested in Tara's murder that he'd break protocol. I can't imagine this is how the AG works cases or that Patterson would be too happy if she knew."
Reaching into his sweatshirt pocket, he pulls out the list of names that Reese gave him just a few hours ago. "Apparently Reese's got the Sheriff going through Roosevelt's jacket to see if anyone might've had a serious beef with him. He gave me this list of the bad guys they've flagged; I'm supposed to check if any of these guys had issues with SAMCRO or me personally...Only one name stands out." He hands the paper to Chibs, whose eyes widen – no doubt because of the name at the top of the page.
"Oh shit…" Chibs passes the list to Tig, who quickly scans the names.
"Fucking shit…" Tig echoes. "Alvarez."
"You really think Alvarez would kill Tara?" Bobby asks incredulously. "Deliberately start a street war? Because he knows that's exactly what he'll get; that we'd retaliate hard and butcher them all for doing that to her." Once again his face twists with grief. "Alvarez was pissed about us giving the guns to Marks, but this…" He shakes his head. "I don't know, Jax...We've had bad blood with the Mayans before, but he's never gone after women or innocents."
When Jax first saw Alvarez's name on the list, he'd nearly taken off for Oakland to confront the Mayan President, violently if necessary. But then, a rare visit from his voice of reason penetrated his rage-filled brain and reminded him of his boys waiting to be picked up from daycare. Fucking good thing - maybe Bobby's right and Alvarez wouldn't attack Jax's family; in any event, going up against Brown alone would've been goddamn stupid - and an easy trip back to the hospital or the morgue.
Chibs and Tig exchange meaningful looks before Tig drops the bomb. "But Alvarez's already started a street war with the Niners. At least that's what's going to happen once Marks and Tyler find out that it was the Mayans who took out a bunch of their guys at the meet last week. Hell, they probably already know and are just planning their next move. Marks is a Pope clone; he plans this shit out."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jax snaps at him; rubbing his forehead, which is starting to pound again. "The Mayans gunned down Tyler's guys at the meet we called?"
"That would be correct." Chibs confirms, nodding. "Barosky heard from his cop friends that four bodies with Niners ink were found at that junkyard outside Oakland - with a bunch of motorcycle tracks all around them. So that's either the Mayans or us."
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking?" An ugly realization along with ice cold fury blasts through Jax, curling his hands into tight fists. "Maybe a war is what he wants," he snarls. "If the Mayans take down Marks and SAMCRO, then the Irish will have no choice but to distribute through Alvarez and Lin…That son-of-a-bitch…that goddamn greedy son-of-a-bitch…If he killed Tara, I fucking swear…"
"Jax, we don't know that Alvarez is involved in any of this yet," Bobby interrupts, trying to infuse some sanity to diffuse Jax's escalating fury-fueled insanity. "We can't just declare war on the Mayans with just Barosky's cop gossip. Even if it is true and they killed those Niners, we've got nothing to prove Alvarez had anything to do with what happened to Tara. I'm with you all the way, Brother." Bobby glances around the table. "And so is everyone at this table…But if you want to take on Brown, then we'll need all the other charters to back our play. But as much as they all love you, Brother, those votes won't go our way unless we have proof the Mayans killed Tara."
Jax buries his face in his shaking hands, both to calm his explosive temper and the spearing pain that's now spread to his whole fucking skull. He instinctively knows that his Brothers believe that Bobby's right and, despite his inner demons demanding instant action to avenge Tara, he also knows that Bobby's right. "Okay," Jax sighs resignedly, dropping his hands to look up and face his Brothers. "Chibs, set a meet with Alvarez tomorrow; tell him I just want to talk to him."
Chibs nods, looking somewhat relieved, then reaches out to grip Jax's shoulder. "Bobby's right; we're with you all the way, Jackie. All the way."
"So this is all the info on Nick Reese that I could find for now." Before Jax dismissed Church, he wanted to hear whatever intel Juice could dig up on Reese. He needs to know who the fuck this guy is besides some legal hotshot who Rosen thinks will be Governor someday. Christ, he's definitely moving his boys out of California. Juice flips open his laptop, typing furiously on the keyboard until he gets the website he wants. "This guy is California political royalty. If there is such a thing."
"What the hell does that mean?" Tig scowls. "This is America. We don't do that king/queen shit here. Well except for motorcycle clubs." He shoots Jax a snarky grin.
"It means that he comes from a long line of fucking politicians." Juice clarifies, not looking up from the computer screen. "His father used to be the California then US Attorney General, his mother used to be a federal judge - she's now the Dean of Stanford Law School, his older brother's a state senator and to top it all off, his maternal grandfather used to be Governor. Talk about getting raised with high expectations."
"Oh shit, I remember his old man…" Bobby peers at Juice's laptop screen.
"You knew his old man?" Rat barks out in laughter. "You must've traveled in some fancy circles back then."
"I didn't know the guy personally, smart ass." Bobby cuffs him lightly across the head. "I heard about him. But only because he got murdered or assassinated or whatever they call gunning down a guy running for office. He'd just ended his term as the US AG and was running for Governor of California when some nut-job pulls out a piece at a charity dinner and blows him away. Never found out why though...The guy's lawyer convinced the judge that the guy was crazy - no shit - so instead of death row, the he got life in prison. Vaguely recall that he didn't last too long inside, though."
Jax frowns as unease prickles his neck. He's got no fucking clue what that might have to do with him, given he's never heard about Reese's old man until now, but somehow he can't shake the feeling that something about Reese Sr.'s murder has to be motivating Reese Jr. in some way. "When was this?" Jax asks, searching his memory; he's never given two shits about politics or politicians but even he would remember an assassination of such a public figure.
"A long time ago," Bobby tells him. "When you were in Stockton, the first time. That's probably why you don't remember; current events aren't exactly popular topics among gen pop." Yeah that would explain it; during his first stint in Stockton, he spent the time learning to broker alliances and trying not to think about Tara non-stop. He nods at Juice to continue.
"The guy's been with the California AG's office for four years so it's been a quick rise to the top Deputy's job. I'm sure having his family connections help, but his track record's unreal - both with the AG and in the San Francisco DA's office; he's put a lot of people away for a lot of years. Although, according to some of the interviews he's given, he would've preferred lethal injection."
"Rosen told me that he and his boss are on a mission about that. The AG's got a thing for frying cop killers - which is why Rosie thinks she might be hot for this case. But Reese wants me to execute Tara's killer; I heard that loud and clear. I just don't know why."
Juice shakes his head. "I couldn't find any connection with this guy and Tara, Jax. He's from Marin County in San Francisco - not exactly our circles, graduated from Stanford Law School and - up until a year ago - he was married to the girl he dated in law school; she's a partner at some big law firm in San Francisco. That's all I got for from his state bio and some quick Google searching. I can dig around some more tomorrow, look into old cases and shit." Juice looks at him hopefully, as if he can work himself off of Jax's shit list with a few internet searches. Not fucking likely.
But Jax's too tired to deal with the fucking rat right now, and he does need him to dig up what he can on Reese. "Sounds good, thanks."
Once again he looks around the table, and this time, he manages a faint smile. "Thanks to all of you; frankly I don't know what I'd fucking do without you guys right now. I'm sorry I've been so distant, I've got a lot going on and…" The understanding look on his Brothers' faces tell him he doesn't need to explain shit to them; they're supporting him no matter what. His smile broadens as he bangs the gavel ending Church. Despite everything, he loves his Club, deeply loves the men he calls his Brothers. And he'll miss them like hell when leaves Charming with his sons and has to say goodbye to them forever.
"Hey Jax…Jax…" Chucky chases after him as he exits the Chapel. "Gemma called for you while you were in there. The boys are fine," he adds quickly as Jax's alarm must've spread all over his face. "She wants you to call her back when you're done here."
"Thanks, Chucky." Jax nods at him appreciatively then pulls out his phone to dial Gemma.
"What do you need Mom?" If it's not about Abel or Thomas, he's got no fucking clue what she could possibly be calling him about now.
"I forgot to tell you while you were here that I ran into Dr. Namid at the grocery store today, and he asked when we're having Tara's funeral. Apparently all the doctors want to be there to pay their respects. I know you've been too distracted to deal with the arrangements so I can handle this for you, Jax. The coroner's going to have to release her body soon so we should have a plan ready…"
Jax closes his eyes as he musters as much patience as he can, which isn't fucking much. What he does with Tara is nobody's goddamn business but his; she belongs to him - she always has and always will. "There isn't going to be a funeral, Mom," he answers loud enough for all his Brothers to hear. Two birds, one stone. "Lowen said that Tara wanted her body donated to her medical school."
"What?" Gemma shrieks, loud enough for Jax to pull the phone away from his ear. "And you agreed to that? That's insane, Jackson. What the hell are you going to tell your sons?"
"Mom, believe me, missing Tara hurts worse than anything in this goddamn world; there's no way a fucking piece of rock with her name on it will ease any of that pain - not for them or for me. So I'm not going to tell them shit right now; they're too young to understand anyway."
"So what should I tell the doctors at St. Thomas? Shouldn't we at least have a memorial? I…"
"St. Thomas can do whatever the fuck they want. Look, I can't deal with this right now; I got to go. Bye, mom." He hangs up before she can sputter any more outrage at him. It doesn't surprise him that Gemma would want to plan a proper service for Tara: obviously for Club reasons - the wife of the SAMCRO President merits a full funeral procession with all charters attending (not that Tara would've wanted that) - and also, despite their crazy-volatile relationship, he does believe that his mother loved Tara, even through the bad shit. But it doesn't fucking matter what his mom wants; the coroner's releasing Tara tomorrow and he's already got his plan in place.
Jax opens his bedroom closet and stares at the suitcases lining the floor - the suitcases that Tara had packed the night she'd taken the boys and left him. On his first night back from the hospital, Chucky had told him that - after the sheriffs cleared the crime scene - he'd taken the bags from Tara's SUV and put them in the house. Jax'd unpacked the boys' clothes, but he hasn't been able to bring himself to open Tara's bags - until now; now he needs to find something specific for tomorrow.
Sighing heavily, Jax scrubs his hands across his face. Tomorrow's going to be a hard fucking day; not that there's been an easy one yet. But he's got a potentially dangerous confrontation with Alvarez to gauge his involvement in Tara's murder, a potentially contentious meet with Rosen to find out who the hell hired the lawyer to represent him and …the coroner's releasing Tara's body tomorrow. His hand tighten around the now half-empty bottle of whiskey; he'd told himself that he'd stop drinking for his boys' sake, but Abel and Thomas aren't here tonight, and he sorely needs the hundred proof bourbon's numbing effects.
Jax sifts through the bags quickly, as if afraid the lingering touch of her clothes could burn him. He finds what he's looking for in the second bag: a silky dark green dress with spaghetti straps and a flowing skirt. Tara's never been one to wear dresses, mostly just on special occasions - and this dress, he'd wanted her to have for a really special occasion. He'd been lucky as hell to be there when she bought it.
"Hi Baby, fancy running into you here." Stepping out of her car, Tara smiles in surprise before pressing a soft kiss to his lips in greeting. Then noticing that he's not alone, she flips a small wave at Bobby and Chibs. "Hi guys."
It'd been pure coincidence that he and his Brothers had been finishing up some business when he caught sight of Tara's SUV angling into a parking spot across the street. "Yeah, my lucky day…" Flashing a grin, he lifts her hand to drop a kiss on her wedding ring. "Where you headed?"
She nods in the direction of Sally Brennan's dress shop, the only place he's known her to buy dresses ever since high school. "'Our' dress is ready." She grins at him, green eyes twinkling impishly at the other men's raised eyebrows. "I still need to try it on and would love to get your opinion. Come over if you can…" His blood surges with excitement at her saucy smile; it's all he can do to keep from scampering after her like an eager puppy when she heads into the shop.
Turning to his Brothers, Jax tries to mask what must be a goofy fucking grin on his face while ignoring his Brothers' amused smirks. However, all levity vanishes as they finish discussing their plans for the impending meet with the Irish and Galindo next week. After Jax's third glance towards the dress shop, Bobby and Chibs tell him they've got the next steps covered and to go help his wife with "their" dress.
The shop's empty except for a skinny teen-age girl reading a romance novel who tells him that Tara's in the dressing room. Thanking the girl with a wink and a smile, he practically sprints to the back of the store and knocks on the door.
They're finally planning the wedding party that Jax had promised her the day they got married in that rushed ceremony at Diosa. When he asked her if she could find a dress similar to the pale green one she'd worn to Gemma and Clay's wedding, she'd been surprised that he even remembered. Then he'd stunned her into open-mouthed shock by opening his wallet and pulling out the photo of them from the wedding that he's been carrying around since they were sixteen.
"What do you think?" Tara twirls around as Jax's jaw drops to the floor. The dress isn't an exact match, but it's perfect - fucking perfect. Held up by thin spaghetti straps, it clings to her lush breast before flowing to the tops of her knees in silky pleats. The dark green color sets off the sparkle in her eyes and the porcelain perfection of her smooth skin. He's thinking it's even better than the pale green dress because he can see those perfect long legs.
"It's beautiful, Babe. Perfect." He pulls her into his arms and pecks at her lips. "But that's because of you."
"You bikers are such smooth talkers." She tweaks his goatee. "I can't wait to dance with you in this dress. You're sure you like it?"
"Fucking love it," he rasps then devours her mouth as he pushes her back into the dressing room then kicks the door shut. Holy shit, he couldn't stop touching her if he tried; his hand running up and down her bare arms before sliding down to cup and knead that perfect silk-covered ass, pressing her tight against his stiff dick.
So engrossed by the intoxicating taste and feel of her, he doesn't realize she'd completely unbuttoned his shirt until it falls to the ground along with his cut. "Let's play a game," she whispers hotly in his ear before pulling his t-shirt over his head and starts plucking open his jeans, sliding them and his boxers down his legs until he's bare-assed naked. Wrapping her arms around him, she pecks at his lips. "Whoever comes first has to make dinner tonight."
His last ounce of sanity has him darting a glance at the dressing room door - as if waiting for the teenage shop girl or some other customer to come banging on the door (it wouldn't be the first time). Even so, his hands continue to search franticly for the zipper at the back of her dress.
Tara strokes his goatee with one hand, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "Jenny's already locked up for the night. I'm her last customer." Her other hand reaches down to squeeze his cock. "So you want to play my game, Baby? Or do you want to go home and watch Disney movies with the boys and Elyda."
"Where the fuck is the goddamn zipper," he growls trying not to rip the perfect dress to shreds.
Laughing, Tara pushes him to sit down on the bench while she stands in front of him. "It's on the side." She lifts her arm to show him; then slowly, slowly tugs the zipper down, obviously enjoying the sight of his eyes glazing over and his dick twitching and hardening with each glimpse of exposed skin. Once the zipper hits the end, a sultry smile curves her lips as she slides the spaghetti straps down her arms until the dress falls to the floor - revealing that she remembers exactly what she wore under that pale green dress. Absolutely nothing.
He fills his hands with those perfect breasts as she straddles him. "First one to come makes dinner," he confirms before rolling a thick pink nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, loving how she moans his name and tunnels her fingers through his hair. Somehow his brain's still operational as an idea pops into his head when he catches a glimpse of them in the full-length mirror on the wall; he runs a hand down the creamy skin of her back to stroke her tattoo. "Turn around, Babe."
Those green eyes gleam with interest as she cups his face then melts his brain with a long, slow kiss before flipping around so that her back's pressed against his chest. Lifting her slightly, he positions his cock at her soaking wet entrance then hisses with pleasure as she slides on to him, impaling herself to the hilt.
Gripping her hips, he sets a slow, deep, rocking rhythm as he drags his tongue across the sensitive skin on her neck. Meeting her desire-darkened gaze in the mirror, he reaches up to cup her breasts, stroking her swollen nipples with his thumbs. "I want to watch you come, Babe," he whispers in her ear, sliding one hand between her legs to rub her clit with his fingers. With his dick pulsing deep inside her, his mouth nibbling her neck and his fingers stimulating her nipples and clit - she doesn't stand a fucking chance against him.
"Oh god, Jax...Oh, Baby, yesss…" She's close; he can tell from her choppy breathing, sexy moans and tightening grip on his thighs as she rides him faster, harder, deeper. Fucking good thing as his own control's dissolving by the second with every scorching wet pussy clench that squeezes his cock, not to mention the mind-blowing image in the mirror of a gloriously naked Tara Knowles-Teller getting fondled and fucked senseless by her husband.
But there's reasons why Tara owns him so thoroughly, why no other woman in the history of time could ever remotely compare. Her luscious pink mouth curves into that saucy smile, sending excited prickles racing up and down his spine. Lifting her hand from his thigh, she sucks a finger into her mouth as her green eyes dance with his in the mirror. Before his lust-impaired brain can react, she slides that wet finger between his legs and presses hard against that ultra-ultra-sensitive spot right below his balls.
"Oh shit, Tara…Holy fucking shit, Tara!" He doesn't know how long or loud he screams her name (and a shitload of profanity) as his dick, his balls and every cell in his fucking body explode in blazing, brain-melting ecstasy. Clutching her against him, he flattens his palm against her drenched mound to press her closer against him as his cock continues to spasm and holds her there until she's milked him dry.
Leaning against the wall for support, he's still fucking destroyed when she extracts herself from him and starts picking up clothes. Watching her from behind half-closed eyes, he wonders how the fuck she's got enough energy to get dressed when it's taking all of his strength just to remain upright.
"I'm going to tell Jenny that you like the dress." Fully clothed, she kneels before him and drops a soft kiss on his lips. "And I'm going to want a steak for dinner, Baby." Her green eyes twinkle at him as an impish smile tugs at her lips. "Make it a Porterhouse."
Jax's eyes sting at the sight of the tags still attached to the dress with a tiny safety pin. They'd had to reschedule the party date a couple of times because of emergencies that'd come up with Galindo and with Pope. Then Otto killed the nurse in front of Tara, and nothing was ever right after that.
After the first cancelation, she'd told him that she didn't need a party to celebrate being married to him. "I've wanted to be married to you my whole life, Jax." She wraps her arms around his neck and strokes his beard. "I love being you wife, Baby. When you're with me…well that's a celebration every day."
Yeah, there's more than a few reasons why Tara owns him so thoroughly - mainly because he loves her more than anything and everything is the whole fucking world. Then, now and always.