Chapter 8: RAGE CAN FEEL THAT WAY
"I need to talk to you. I'll be at the station in ten minutes."
"Hello to you too, Boss." Jarry greets the dial tone after her caller hangs up abruptly. Shoving her phone into her jacket pocket, she turns to Cane. "Change of plans…I've been summoned back to the station." Shit.
Pulling a U-turn, Cane glances at her. "Everything okay with the Big Man?"
She looks out the window and sighs. "Who the hell knows? I'm sure he wants an update. And I have shit to tell him. All of the bad guys we talked to had alibis…except for Alvarez. But I think he was just being an asshole - daring me to waste our time checking him out. No, I think if Alvarez was involved, he'd have some bullshit story ready for us." She flips open the folder of leads that they'd reviewed earlier. "And we haven't had enough time to follow-up on some these leads…This one from Stockton's pretty interesting, too."
"What about Juice?"
Shaking her head, she closes the file. "No, that's just a hunch that I'm following. Something feels off to me about the way Eli handled that case…It's probably nothing. Keep it under your hat for now." Although Reese's derailed them for now, sometime soon they'll confirm Juice's alibi with Gemma Teller-Morrow.
At the station, Jarry finds Reese sitting in her office reading emails on his phone. He tells her that he has to head up to San Francisco for a couple of days then demands an update on the case. She gives him the rundown on all their talks with the bad guys from Roosevelt's jacket, deliberately omitting Juice for now. Then she opens the folder of leads that the deputies had compiled from all their interviews.
"Patterson doesn't think Teller murdered his wife." She extracts one report from the pile. "But just a couple of days before her death, someone saw them arguing - pretty heatedly - outside of a whorehouse here in Stockton; a whorehouse that's partially owned by Jackson Teller. And get this…" She points to a notation written in caps. "Tara pulled a gun on him."
Jarry didn't think Reese's blue eyes could grow any colder; shit, she actually fucking shivers. "Look, Cane and I still need to follow-up on this. Talk to the madam and find out what husband and wife might've been fighting about. We should have that ready by the time you're back."
"No." Reese rises to his feet and heads for the door. "Grab Cane, we're going now."
Jax storms into Scoops, cold rage in his eyes and bloody fucking murder in his heart. "Where the fuck is that address?" He stalks over to the table where Bobby, Chibs, Tig and Happy hover around Juice - who'd practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of Jax's voice.
It's been twenty minutes since he'd demanded Nick Reese's home address; the Club's so-called computer genius could track down fucking Big Foot in twenty minutes - what's the goddamn holdup with this? Bobby intercepts him as he's about to rip off Juice's fucking head. "Calm down, Brother."
Calm down? How the fuck does he do that with what he just learned? Jax'd flamed his own temper by interrogating Skeeter about every fucking thing that the grave digger saw earlier at the ME's lab: a tall, blond man bending over Tara - touching and kissing her like he had every goddamn right in the world. Skeeter had claimed over and over that he'd honestly thought it'd been Jax (with short hair and a fucking tweed jacket!) so he'd backed out the lab door unseen; hiding out in the hallway until the guy left.
"I want that address," Jax grits out through his clenched teeth. "NOW."
Bobby tightens his restraining grip as Chibs and Tig flank him, blocking Jax's path to Juice. "You can't do this, Jax. You can't just break into the home of the Chief Deputy Attorney General without a plan. Not with the DA looking for any excuse to lock you up. You could wind up in Stockton for the next ten - no, make that twenty years."
Jax shakes his head, his face twisting in a snarl. "I'm not just going to break into the guy's place. I'm going to kill that goddamn son-of-a-bitch…" Looking past his Brothers, he scowls murderously at Juice. "You told me Reese had no connection to Tara. That was a goddamn lie. Another fucking, goddamn lie."
Juice's eyes widen in panic. "It wasn't a lie! There's nothing that connects them…until this case, I don't think the guy's ever been to Charming. And I just found out that he'd been working in Washington, DC for most of the year. Just got back. Really, Jax, you got to believe me that there's nothing that ties him to Tara, nothing..." Juice types franticly, pulling up the different websites he'd referenced on Reese and points the laptop screen at Jax. "He lives in Sacramento now, but before that, I told you he's from San Francisco, went to law school at Stanford, college in San Diego…"
"What did you say?" Jax hisses, stiffening as every ounce of blood in his body chills to ice. He glares at Nick Reese's profile photo smirking at him from Juice's laptop, wanting to hurl the goddamn thing out the window - except he can't seem to fucking move.
"San Diego…He went to college at UCSD." Juice's bewildered gaze bounces from Chibs to Happy to Tig to Bobby as if hoping one of them can explain the grim looks on all their faces. "What does that have to do with Tara? I thought she went to college in Chicago…"
Tig leans closer to the laptop, peering at the photo of Reese on the monitor before looking up to stare at Jax. "Wow, the guy kind of looks like you. Interesting. Seems like Little Miss College Tara found your twin."
Jax shoots Tig a glare that promises death then pushes past his Brothers to loom menacingly over Juice - his hand extended; if he doesn't get Reese's address in the next second, that hand's going to snap the fucking shitbag's neck.
Glancing nervously at Chibs - who nods slowly, reluctantly - Juice pulls a strip of paper from under his laptop and drops it into Jax's waiting hand.
Jax curls his fingers around the paper, nodding at Happy as he stalks towards the door. "Hap, I need you to come with me." Although no one's better at killing than SAMCRO's Sargent-at-Arms, Jax's saving the pleasure of ending Nick Reese for himself - but he does need Happy's skills at getting into Reese's house undetected.
They're barely out the door, strapping on their helmets when Bobby, Chibs and Tig come charging outside. "You're not going anywhere without us." Tig tells him, zipping up his black hoodie before getting on his bike. "I told you that we'd hunt down Tara's killer together. And if you think this guy…"
Jax stares at his Brothers then shakes his head. "No, Reese didn't kill Tara." He looks down at the paper and memorizes the address before shoving it into his pocket. "If I'm right, the prick tried to marry her." Gunning the Harley's engine, he speeds off leaving the others with little choice except to follow.
"You've always been a whole can of nuts when it comes to Tara…" Opie must've accused him of that at least a million times since high school, and yeah, maybe he'd been a little possessive and a little over-protective - okay, more than a little - but Tara's his girl. Always been HIS girl. Speeding past the sign that welcomes them into Sacramento city limits, Jax clenches his teeth as he flashes back to that painful exchange with Kozik a few years after Tara had left for college - a memory that'd fucked with his mind for years.
Kozik had stopped by the Clubhouse for a couple of days on his way back to Tacoma after visiting his brother in San Diego. Sitting next to Jax at the bar, he casually mentions bumping into Tara at a bar in LaJolla. Jax stiffens, slams yet another shot of whiskey and faces Kozik with a mix of both anticipation and dread. He's not seen or heard anything about Tara since the day she left Charming; they'd agreed that a clean break would be necessary for either of them to survive life without the other. Although, for Jax, there's been nothing clean about the fucking mess that his life's been since that break.
Shrugging, he feigns disinterest, not wanting Kozik to see a pathetic pussy desperate for news about his ex. Apparently he fails miserably as Kozik grins broadly and smacks him on the back. Then remembering his Brother's not-so-subtle admiration for Tara, Jax narrows his eyes; if that asshole tried anything with her… Correctly interpreting Jax's expression once again, Kozik laughs and shakes his head. But that initial reassurance gets blown to hell with the bombshells that Kozik does drop. She's graduating early and moving to Chicago for med school, he informs Jax matter-of-factly.
Pouring himself another shot, Jax feels yet something else inside of him die. Every day over the past three years, he's held out the hope that she'd come back. That she'd show up one day and tell him that she's done with college, that no future of higher education could compare to one that they could have together. But as each day with no Tara passed, he sank deeper into depression - medicating with more booze, more weed and more sex with the endless string of nameless, faceless women who weren't Tara. At least not Tara initially; once he'd start fucking them, he'd close his eyes and see her, feel her soft skin, hear her gasping his name and he'd come – sometimes screaming her name. And if anyone in that nameless, faceless parade of pussy had a problem with that, well tough shit.
But the devastating fact she's moving even further away from him is nothing compared to the last bomb that Kozik lets fall.
"She was planning on going to Stanford, but then…" Kozik hesitates and stares at him hard, as if trying to decide whether Jax can handle the news without losing his shit.
"Just say it," Jax snaps. He's not some fucking delicate piece of glass that'll shatter with too much pressure. Tossing back the shot, he welcomes the whiskey's sharp burn, desperate for the numbness that he knows all the shots he's had and intends to have will bring eventually.
Eyeing him warily, Kozik decides to continue. "Apparently, she had a bad break up with her boyfriend; they'd planned to go to Stanford together. She turned down his marriage proposal and didn't feel comfortable going there with him…"
Although Jax'd been fucking relieved that Tara hadn't wanted to marry her prick boyfriend, it'd destroyed him to know that she'd managed to move on - found someone else to replace him, found a relationship serious enough for the guy to expect marriage. That night he'd drowned himself in so much whiskey and weed that he was still drunk and high the next day when the sheriff's deputies pulled him over during a run - with enough illegal handguns to send him to Stockton for three years.
But the fall-out from Kozik's bombshells didn't end with Jax's first felony conviction and prison sentence; desperate to prove to himself that he could move on as well - that he could find someone to replace her like she'd replaced him - once out of Stockton, he'd fucked his way through northern California, Nevada and the Pacific Northwest searching for even the slightest twinge of the same pleasure, the same soul-deep connection that he'd felt with Tara. But he never found it - not even close; so he'd settled on the first croweater who didn't bore him or make him sick within hours of knowing her. And it didn't hurt that Gemma actually liked Wendy at first (saving him the effort of playing referee); probably because his mom knew Wendy could never distract him away from SAMCRO like Tara did nearly every day they were together. But marrying Wendy - like getting on a bike loaded with guns when he could barely see straight - had been a goddamn mistake. Two big goddamn mistakes he'd made because he couldn't fucking deal with the thought of Tara loving someone that wasn't him.
Arriving at the address Juice had given them, Jax's not surprised that Reese lives in partial seclusion atop a short, tree-covered hill next to the Sacramento River. Despite all that man-of-the-people-career-politician bullshit, the state's golden boy's definitely not what he seems and probably needs to hide out so no one can see how fucked-up he really is.
They park their bikes at the base of the hill in a dense copse of trees, then hike the rest of the way to the house in total silence; they can't risk making any noises that could alert Reese or his distant neighbors - which works perfectly fine for Jax, he's in no fucking mood to answer the questions he'd seen on his Brother's faces. Fortunately, it's a brightly lit night for 3am so they don't need flashlights until it's time for Happy to break open the back door then find and disable the alarm. Holy shit, it never fails to amaze him (and scare him a little) how easily the trained killer can break into even the most secure homes.
Pulling out his gun, Jax motions for Happy and Tig to scope out the ground floor while the rest of them head upstairs to what he assumes are the bedrooms. However, it doesn't take them long to realize that the house's empty - apparently it's Reese's lucky night, he gets to live one more fucking day.
"Jackie, you need to take a look at this…" Standing in the master bedroom's walk-in closet, Jax ignores Chibs as his eyes scour every inch of the immaculately organized space in case Reese had scurried in here to hide like a fucking rodent. "Seriously, Brother, you need to fucking get in here."
Stalking back into Reese's bedroom, he frowns at the sight of Chibs and Bobby poring over a slender black leather bound book. "Holy shit, Jackie…" Chibs shakes his head disbelievingly as he thrusts the book at Jax. "Holy shit…"
He opens the book, which turns out to be a photo album - although no fucking ordinary photo album he realizes as his knees buckle and his jaw nearly hits the floor. Plopping down on the armchair, he grips the leather cover tightly as his eyes greedily absorb the images before him; images of Tara - so young, so happy, so fucking beautiful he can barely breathe as he flips through the pages.
"Jax, we should go." Bobby's voice breaks through the roaring in his head. "The sun will be up soon, and we can't get seen leaving here." Nodding mutely, Jax rises, clutching the book against his chest as he strides towards the door.
"Wait, Jackie…You can't take that with you." Chibs blocks his exit, shaking his head. "Reese will know someone was here. And since that'll be the only thing missin' - he'll know exactly who was here."
Jax tucks the album into his jeans then covers it with his hoodie. "I'm counting on it."
Christ, she's beautiful. He's thought so for a while now and must've told her a dozen times last night, but up close like this…he's never seen anything more beautiful in his whole life than Tara Knowles. And that includes his dad's Harley and the brand new Dyna that Otto bought to replace his dying Fat Boy. As he watches her sleep nestled against him, he can't help but soak up the little things that he might've noticed before but never fully appreciated until now - like the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, the creamy smoothness of her pale cheeks, the thick black lashes that might be the longest (real ones) he'd ever seen.
It'd been a night of firsts for the both of them. The first night he's spent with a girl without having actual sex and the first night she's spent with a guy…ever (which is a fucking good thing because he'd want to kill anyone who might've gotten this close to her). And it's their first night together. After watching her make out with her asshole boyfriend at the party last night, he'd fucking snapped and was about to beat the fucker to shit until Opie stopped him. Jax realized then that unless he finally admitted his real feelings about Tara - to himself and to her - he could lose her permanently to that asshole or some other douchebag down the road.
It'd been a huge risk coming over to her house late last night and telling her how he felt: how he wanted to be much more than friends, how he'd be willing to wait as long as it took to be with her - because if she didn't feel the same way, he'd lose one of his oldest and dearest friends. But the powers in the universe rewarded him generously for taking that risk; she'd welcomed this new turn in their relationship, welcomed his arms around her and his mouth on hers, welcomed him to spend the night (although she was very clear that she's not ready for sex yet).
But despite the fact they didn't have sex or even get all-the-way naked, it'd been the best, most amazing night of his life. Holy fuck, Tara Knowles could kiss. None of his fantasies and wet dreams over the past few months (and there were a shit ton of those) came close to the brain-and-bone melting pleasure that electrified all his senses at the feel of her plush lips and nimble tongue. Hell, nothing in his wild imagination could've prepared him for the intoxicating carnal heaven she'd rocketed him to with her luscious mouth, those soft hands, that mouthwatering silky-smooth body rubbing against his. Holy, holy fuck.
Tightening his arm around her, he presses a kiss to her forehead and closes his eyes. They didn't sleep much last night, so he could probably use an hour or two before going home to face one (no-doubt) pissed-off Gemma Teller (since there was no fucking way he was going to stop kissing Tara long enough to call and tell his mom that he was spending the night at Opie's). His eyes barely drift shut when the phone rings - probably Charming PD again; they'd left a message last night that Old Man Knowles was going to be an overnight guest in the drunk tank yet again.
But the voice leaving a message on the answering machine isn't anyone from Charming PD. "Hey Tara, it's Scott. Last night was great. Wondering if you want to head to the lake with me today. It'll be fun. Call me."
And just like that, Jax's sleepy contentment gets blown to shit. His eyes fly open as anger explodes inside him; gritting his teeth, he resists the urge to get up and hurl the fucking answering machine against the wall. There's no goddamn fucking way that Tara's spending another second with that prick, much less spend the day at the lake with him dressed in her cock-hardening bikini. Jax would sooner rip that son-of-a-bitch into bloody pieces with his bare fucking hands.
"He's not my boyfriend, you know." A soft voice breaks through his rage and plans for gory murder. Glancing down, Jax feels his temper start to drain away as he melts into a fucking puddle at the sight of her warm green eyes and soft smile. "We've only been going out for a couple of weeks."
He picks up her hand resting on his chest and kisses her palm. "Well whatever it was, it's history now. Give me his number, and I'll tell him that you guys are done. You're not going to the lake or any fucking place with him ever."
Propping herself up, she quirks an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" But before can answer, he's distracted by the mind-melting sight of her lush breasts practically spilling out of that silky black bra. He'd been fantasizing about those puppies for months; getting to touch them last night - even through her bra - had been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him.
It's not until she pokes at his shoulder that he tears his eyes away from that world class rack to gaze at her beautiful - albeit slightly irked - face. "What?" He franticly searches his empty brain for what they might've been talking about.
She rolls her eyes. "They're just breasts, Teller. I've never understood what makes you guys so crazy for lumps of fatty tissue." Then she looks away, as if gathering her thoughts. "Jax, I don't want you to call Scott. If I'm going to stop seeing him, then that's something I have to tell him myself - not you."
Dropping her hand, he bolts upwards and scowls at her. "What do you mean by 'IF' you're going to stop seeing him, Tara? After last night…fuck it…you can't…you can't go out with anyone…I mean besides me." Jesus Christ, could he sound like a bigger fucking dipshit? He's always been able to smooth-talk girls, apparently except now with THE girl.
But instead of laughing her ass of at him, she smiles - almost shyly - and runs her soft hand up and down his arm. "Do you mean it? That you want it to be just you and me?"
Drowning in those warm mossy green eyes, he nods slowly, definitively. "Just you and me, Babe. No one else."
That perfect brow quirks up again. "But what about all those croweaters and your harem at school? You told Opie that you liked variety. What if you get bored?"
Jax makes a mental note to beat the hell out of his best friend for telling her that shit; leaning down to kiss her plump pink lips, he caresses her soft cheek with his fingers. "Tara Knowles, you couldn't bore me if you tried. And I don't give a shit about any of those girls; not when I can be with you. You're the smartest person I know, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen AND you have the most awesome pair of fatty tissues…"
Laughing, she rolls onto her back then gazes up at him, green eyes twinkling. "In that case…" Her fingers toy with the front close of her bra while he stares intently and tries to remember how to breathe. It's moot because all the air vaporizes from his lungs when she releases the clasp and pulls the cups away. Holy fucking shit, his fantasies did not do bare breasted Tara Knowles justice. Not fucking close.
"Jesus, Babe…" He brushes his thumbs around the rosy areolas as he stares riveted at her thick, pale pink nipples. "So beautiful. So fucking, fucking beautiful…" Unable to resist for another second, he sucks a plump tip into his mouth, moaning his approval as it hardens against his tongue.
Tara's fingers tangle in his hair as she arches upward into his hungry mouth, gasping his name over and over as he pleasures her breasts. "Jax…" Her hands slide down his bare, sweat-drenched back to squeeze his ass. "This time…I want to touch you this time…"
Since he lost all his brainpower when she stripped off her bra, he's got no clue what she's talking about - until her soft hand pulls down the front of his boxers to grip his swollen dick. Closing his eyes, Jax sends up a billion thank you's to the powers of the universe for putting her in his life. Last night, kissing her got him so worked up that he had to sprint to her bathroom and finish himself off before he came in his boxers. Apparently, he won't have to do that this time.
Pressing one more wet kiss to each thoroughly sucked nipple, he rolls to his side and claims her mouth. Then twining her fingers with his, he slides their joined hands up and down his hard cock, squeezing tight. It feels so fucking, fucking good that seconds later he's burying his face against her neck, crying out her name as his dick erupts into their entwined hands.
"So you're going to break it off with that asshole, right? Today." Ten minutes later, his whole body's still buzzing, but his brain's finally working again. "You're mine now, Tara." He pulls her closer against him. "From now on, it's just you and me, Babe…no one else."
Green eyes glowing, she beams at him causing his heart to skip an actual fucking beat. "Okay, Baby." Stroking his face, she spikes his pulse with a slow, deep kiss. "Just you and me."
He can't stop looking at the photos of her in that black album.
Sitting on his couch, drinking from yet another bottle of whiskey, Jax stares at the images of the girl he loves so much - smiling and laughing in the arms of another man. Given these were all taken over a dozen years ago, it shouldn't hurt so goddamn much…He thinks about ripping the pictures to shreds then shoving them down Reese's throat - right before he jams his knife into the fucking prick's gut.
Jax pulls one photo out of its slot and looks at it closer, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Looking gorgeous in a tank top and cut-offs, she's stretched out on a deck chair - long, slim legs stretched out in front of her - reading a massive textbook that had to be at least a thousand pages. "That's my girl…" Okay, maybe he'll keep some of the pictures. Put them in the redwood box to show their boys someday.
It all makes sense now; he scowls at a photo of Reese beaming happily at Tara, his arm draped around her possessively. Even after all this time, the guy still loved her - enough to keep old photos of her on his bedside table, enough to insert himself into her murder investigation, enough to manipulate her husband into finding and executing her killer.
"Jarry and her deputies might be able to find the murderer, but then what? The lowlife scumbag agrees to rat out another lowlife scumbag, who's higher on the criminal food chain, in exchange for a couple of years in Stockton and a decade on parole? Does that sound like justice to you?" There's no doubt in his mind that Reese had himself assigned to Tara's case to derail the Sherriff's investigation; he doesn't want her murderer to get arrested then make a deal for a cake-walk sentence. "I can assure you that we want the same thing - justice for an innocent woman."
As much as Jax hates the asshole, he can understand why Reese put all this into motion. Shit, during their eleven-year separation, he never stopped loving Tara; not for one second. Thinking back to all the guys he knew who ever loved her, they all seemed to have a measure of obsessiveness - including (especially) him. Maybe the little girl who struggled to find love from her parents gravitated to men (and little boys, if you count Tommy and young David Hale) who loved her so much that they couldn't let go. And there's no doubt that Reese's still fucked-up crazy about her. The question's whether the prick's more like the pain-in-the-ass, albeit harmless, quarterback that Tara dated before him (although Jax lost track how many times he had to beat the shit out of that guy to make him go away) or ATF Agent Joshua Kohn - a true psycho who'd been a danger to all of them.
Taking another swig of the whiskey, he laughs. Back in high school, Tara used to tell him he should think about a career in psychology because he'd done well in the class and was pretty good at reading people. The problem was that he didn't give a fuck what most people thought - just the ones who mattered to him, his family and his Club.
And now he certainly gives a fuck about what Nick Reese might be thinking; the guy's put his career at risk to pull this stunt. But even knowing their shared purpose, Jax would sooner kill the prick than trust him - from the hate in Reese's ice cold eyes, the feeling's definitely mutual. And now Jax knows why.
Shaking with rage, Jax stalks out of Reese's room desperate to get out of the prick's house - but Bobby intercepts him before he gets to the stairs. "Don't read anything on Tara's part about those photos. It was a long time ago." His Brother shakes his head as Jax tries to pretend he doesn't give a shit about ancient history. "Take a look at that wedding ring on your finger, Jax. Tara married you…not him. Those boys are your sons…yours and hers. He may have had for a little while, but she came back to you. Don't ever forget that."
Finishing off the bottle, Jax decides to wait until this whole thing plays out before he kills Reese; he might still need the asshole's help in finding Tara's killer. But make no mistake - the Chief Deputy Attorney General will be dead soon. No one fucking touches his girl.
AN: Some of you have been curious about Nick Reese and his role in this story. Special kudos go out to Ohne Namen for following the clues I left in Part 1! Since Jax and Tara were reunited in S1 because of Kohn, I liked the idea of another man from Tara's past showing up to drive Jax at the end. The question's whether Reese's like Jax and just wants justice dealt to Tara's killer, or is he another Kohn with a darker purpose? You'll know soon…