Chapter 13: THE ONLY FEELING THAT MAKES SENSE

"Well that was time well spent..." Jarry mutters as she and Cane walk out of the interrogation room after a totally useless half hour spent trying to break a defiantly silent Colette Jane. The blonde madam didn't bat an eye when confronted with the sworn statements from some of Diosa's working girls and patrons that pretty much shot to hell her earlier claim that she never left Diosa the day someone savagely murdered her "business partner's" wife. She just crossed her arms and clamped her mouth shut, a frosty fuck-you glare pasted on her face.

Not that Jarry's too surprised; when they initially tried to question Diosa's head hooker about the drugs found in her bedroom, Colette coldly informed them that she wasn't saying shit without her lawyer present - some nameless, faceless attorney who didn't bother to show for the woman's bail hearing. Not that it mattered; given the longtime whore's rather extensive arrest record, not to mention the eye-popping amount of drugs seized from her possession, the arraignment judge didn't hesitate to remand the trick-turning-drug-dealer to the custody of Sanwa County corrections. Where it looks like she'll be stuck until making the potentially permanent move to the women's prison in Chowchilla - unless her phantom lawyer actually shows and pulls off some major miracle.

Pulling out her phone to call Patterson with an update, a smile spreads across Jarry's face as she finds and listens to the message left on her voicemail. "Hello Lieutenant Jarry, this is US Attorney Lincoln Potter returning your call…"

"Did you mean it?" Sitting across his lap, Tara strokes his face, her green eyes solemn but hopeful. "You really want to marry me?"

Tightening his arms around her, Jax presses a slow kiss to those plump lips. He hadn't actually planned to propose to her - hell, he just turned sixteen yesterday; just something about showing her the chapel, talking about one day taking over his old man's seat at the head of the table, and he couldn't resist telling her the rest of the vision he wants for his future - marrying the one girl who's made his heart pound since they were little kids. He may not have known he loved her back then, but he's pretty fucking sure he knows it now.

"Yeah." He tucks a glossy lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I love you, Tara. I just know we're supposed to be together…I can't imagine being with anyone else." Before her, he'd had his share of pussy and nothing and no one brought him even remotely close to the highs he felt just holding her hand.

She strokes his lower lip with her thumb, beaming the smile that's never failed to spike his pulse. "I love you too, Baby. I don't want to be with anyone else either."

Growling, he gives her a playful squeeze. "You'd better not. I don't share, Babe. Not even a little." Sliding his hand down her bare arms to squeeze a silky thigh under her cut-offs, he finds her lips again. Christ, just kissing her stupefies him to the point he can't remember his own fucking name; especially when she squirms against his hardening cock and presses her lush breasts against his chest.

After several long hot minutes, he buries his face in her soft neck to catch his breath. "Let's get out of here…I want another birthday present." Last night, after months of waiting patiently, he finally got access to the place where his dick's been dying to go for almost a year…inside one luscious Tara Grace Knowles. And since it's been hours since they fucked each other senseless, he's about to lose his goddamn mind if doesn't get some quality naked time with his girl soon. Climbing up here on the roof to be alone with her wasn't nearly enough.

"Can we?" Tara quirks a perfect brow as she looks down at the reveling party guests; members of all the SOA charters who'd ridden all the way here to watch their founder's only son receive his cut and Prospect patch. "Your mother will kill you…and me."

"I'll deal with my mother." He flashes her a cocky grin. "Although one day, she'll be your mother, too. Because one I am going to marry you, Tara. That's a promise."

Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she gazes into his eyes with an intensity that melts his bones. "I love you more than anything, Jax. And I can't wait to marry you."

"That's right…she married me, you goddamn prick…Me..." He glares at the old photo of Nick Reese, fucking hating the smug grin pasted on the guy's asshole face and the arm draped around the girl who would always, always belong to Jax. Looking up, his gaze deliberately turns to the framed picture of him and Tara taken right after their impromptu wedding; despite the fucked-up craziness that happened that day, it'd been one of his best days ever - finally making good on the promise he made as a sixteen-year-old kid to marry the love of his life.

After the brief confrontation with Barosky, he told his Brothers he had to leave to pick up his boys - reminding Chucky and Rat that he'd need their services later. Stopping home to pick up Tara's SUV, he realized that he probably should clean off the blood on his face and change clothes before showing up at St. Thomas looking like some street brawling thug. He'd been about to leave when he got distracted by the fucking photo album he stole from Reese.

Ripping the photo in two, he drops the half with Tara into the redwood box while crushing the pretty boy's image in his fist. The crazy bastard's as fucked up as Kohn if he thinks Jax'll bend over and take whatever the guy plans to shove up his ass. Kohn had wanted to destroy him and SAMCRO as part of some delusional plan to win Tara back, and now Reese intends to railroad Jax on to death row in a crazy-ass attempt to avenge her. It probably didn't occur to either shithead that Tara wouldn't have wanted any of those things to happen.

"She loves me, you sick fuck..." Repeating the same words he muttered to a dead Josh Kohn right before he set the son-of-a-bitch's corpse on fire, Jax flicks his lighter and torches the ripped and crumpled photos of Nick Reese; a grim sneer on his face as he watches the flames eat away at the images of California's golden boy. One day real soon, maybe he'll get to set fire to the real fucking thing.

The buzz on his phone interrupts his murderous reverie; pulling it out of his pocket, he looks down at the text flashing on the screen.

"Meet you at St. Thomas. Chapel. 15 minutes."

After their last meeting in Rosen's office, Jax didn't figure he'd ever see Ally Lowen again. Hell, he'd been surprised she showed up in person to read Tara's will - given that he more or less threatened her life the last time they saw each other. For the most part he'd been able to keep his cool, despite the sharp pain that stabbed at him hearing everything Tara'd done to ensure that their sons would have choices, even after her death - then he pretty much lost his fucking mind when Lowen told him about Tara's intent to donate her body to her medical school. So once again, Lowen had scurried away from him in fear of his violent temper.

But apparently, like Tara's will, Lowen must think what she has to tell him is important enough to swallow her fear. She'd left him a message yesterday that they needed to talk, and then after some phone tag, she finally sent him a text saying that she could meet at St. Thomas before he picked up his boys. It doesn't escape him that she'd picked a busy, public place where he'd be mindful of his behavior instead of meeting alone at his house or at her new office; whatever she has to say, she must not trust him not to go completely apeshit. Not a good sign.

Opening the door to the chapel, he can see it's empty as usual; seems that the only people he's ever seen here have been his mother and Tara. Sliding into a pew, he tries in vain not to think about the emotional confrontation he'd had with Tara in this room after he'd returned from Ireland to rescue her from that fucking prick, Salazar. Christ, he'd nearly dropped to his knees begging her to forgive his mind-numbing stupidity, not to mention his cruel betrayal with Ima. Somehow he'd gotten the miracle he needed, and she'd taken him back - although vowing that they'd be finished if he cheated on her again. And he swore he never would.

Holy fuck…Jax rubs his eyes, desperately trying to erase the memory of Tara's pain-filled face after catching him screwing Colette. Of all the goddamn mistakes he's made in his life, touching that foul whore had to be right up at the top - next to marrying Wendy and banging Ima to get Tara to leave him. Shit, his taste in women sucked beyond words…except for Tara. Which is probably why he'd always been so desperate to hang on to her.

Despite all the fucking awful shit that happened to tear the two of them apart, somehow their intense love for each other had prevailed; during those blissful, unforgettable hours with her in that motel room, she'd promised she'd wait for him, promised that someday they'd be together again - because, like he's always told her, they're supposed to be together.

But then fate had slammed him hard with the cruelest of hammers, viciously robbing him of the one chance he had to ever be truly happy. Clutching his head in his hand, he struggles to control the choking grief that threatens to consume him once again.

"Jax?" His head snaps up at the sound of Lowen tentatively calling his name. "Are you okay?" Despite the concern in her voice, Jax can see the tension in her shoulders and the wariness in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He wipes his eyes, wincing as he forgets the swelling bruise next to his left eye. Goddamn Nick Reese. He motions for her to take a seat in one of the pews in front of him - fuck knows she'd never get close enough to sit next to him.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice, but I really think you should know what you're ex-wife is trying to do."

"Wendy? What are you talking about?" Of all the things that Lowen could've possibly flagged as a problem, he wouldn't have guessed Wendy. What trouble was that fucking junkie stirring up now?

Sitting down in the pew directly in front of him, Lowen pulls some papers out of her bag and gives them to Jax - who immediately recognizes the guardianship document that Tara had asked him to sign, granting custody of their boys to Wendy should anything happen to either of them. Papers with the word "VOID" stamped in red ink on every page.

"Wendy contacted me yesterday morning, demanding these papers. She said that with Tara dead, Abel needed to be with her - with his real mother."

Stunned, Jax stares at her. "What? Didn't she know we changed our minds? There's no fucking way I want that junkie bitch near my sons." He thrusts the papers back at her. "Besides, I've already made other arrangements - someone Tara would've wanted. Rosen's taking care of it."

Lowen nods, shooting him a tight smile. "That's good. But this might not go away quickly, Jax. I did tell Wendy that Tara rescinded the guardianship, that I voided the papers myself. Since I never thought it was a good idea to trust the boys' care to someone so… unpredictable, I told Wendy right after it happened."

Jax wrinkles his brows in confusion. "If Wendy knew the papers were void, why the hell would she think having them would help her case for custody?"

Lowen glances down at the papers before meeting his probing stare. "Wendy told me that she talked to Tara right before she died…that Tara changed her mind and wanted the papers re-filed. She said that Tara was afraid that, with you in prison, there would be no one to take care of the boys if something happened to her. And she didn't want them anywhere near Gemma."

Something sounds really fucked-up with this story; knowing his ex, it was probably complete bullshit. Tara had planned to take the WitPro deal to protect the boys; only when he decided finally to take responsibility and turn himself into the DA did she choose to stop running. So when would she have talked to Wendy?

"Sure you don't want to come back with me? We can see the boys together; have some family time." He walks her to her SUV, carrying her bags. More than anything he wants to stay in that motel room with her, but after a blissful afternoon spent in her arms, there's now the grim reality that he's only got a couple hours of freedom before he has to surrender himself to Patterson. And he's still got to break the news to his Brothers and Gemma before he can spend the rest of the time with his boys.

She unlocks her car doors so that he can load her bags, then wraps her arms around his waist. "There's something I need to take care of before I meet Eli and go back to the house and wait for you. I can pick them up later." Smiling softly, she strokes his goatee. "Besides, you need time alone with your sons. They missed you."

Was meeting Wendy that thing she need to do before going back to the house? If so, why the rush? The deal he'd agreed to make with the DA would've exonerated Tara completely, she wouldn't have had to worry about getting separated from the boys. Anyway, it's fucking moot. There's no goddamn way he'd ever sign those guardianship papers again.

Lowen must've guessed what he was thinking, because she pulls some folded papers out of her bag; these he'd never seen before – yellow notebook paper covered in what looked like Tara's handwriting. "Wendy knew I had these…" Signing resignedly, she unfolds the pages. "You have to understand how desperate Tara was…She honestly thought she'd be sent back to prison after her trial…And based on how it went for her at County, she wouldn't have survived for very long."

Jax swallows hard as the pain and guilt savage him again, especially knowing from the last letter Tara had written him that she truly intended to die in prison ...once I was convicted and sent back inside, I knew I wouldn't be coming home again.

"She was terrified for the boys - which is why she came up with that plan to get them away from Gemma…and from you. Tara really loved you, Jax. You can't ever doubt that. But she stopped believing that you wanted a different life for Abel and Thomas, a better one without all this…shit." SAMCRO's former lawyer glares at the President's patch on his cut.

Lowen extends the papers to Jax, who takes them almost reluctantly, curling his fingers tightly around the pages. "So she put these together…notes about you and the Club. There's nothing that the Sheriff or the DA could ever use against you or SAMCRO…Tara never wanted that. But after reading his, no family judge would ever see you as a viable guardian to young children; you'd never get custody of the boys if faced with a legal challenge." She swipes at the tears threatening to spill down her face. "She didn't want them to end up like her, or Opie, or you…accepting violence and murder as a way of life, dying in prison…You know she didn't want this life for them."

"Neither do I," he tells her quietly. "I'm going to get my boys out of here, Ally...I promised Tara, and I won't let her down." Flipping through the pages, he stares at her grimly. "So Wendy knows about all these? Wants you to turn them over so she can take my boys away from me?"

His former lawyer remains silent for a long moment, looking down at her hands. "Wendy only wants Abel. Not Thomas. She doesn't think she can take care of both boys." There's no mistaking the disgust in her voice. "That selfish bitch doesn't give a damn about breaking up brothers…especially after what those boys have been through…"

"Well, it's never going to fucking come to that," he assures her, gritting his teeth to keep his temper in check as he shoves the papers into his sweatshirt pocket. "So this is everything?"

Lowen glances up at him, her eyes guarded. "Most of them. The more…controversial…pages are with Rosen." She must've read the lack of surprise on his face. "We were partners for ten years, and he's always been real careful about what he tells me - attorney-client privilege and all that - but I believe you know who hired him to help you…Even though I assured her that you'd be safe from anything she'd written, she wanted to be sure. Hell, it wasn't easy, Rosie was done with SAMCRO, on to bigger fish and all…but Tara somehow managed to convince him. I think he's always had a soft spot for her."

More like a hard spot, Jax grouses to himself. "So what's Wendy's play now? There's no goddamn way I'm signing any new papers…and she won't be getting a hold of any of this shit about me and my Club."

"Hard to say…The fact she's a known drug addict who's be in and out of rehab more times than anyone can count doesn't help her case. But then she's still Abel's biological mother so she might have some standing now that Tara's gone. Especially if she can prove that Tara had intended to turn custodial rights over to her. If she gets the right judge, she might be able to use the old document and argue that Tara changed her mind about voiding it before she died."

Cold rage spreads through him at the thought of that foul junkie bitch using Tara's death to weasel her way into Abel's life. "I'll handle Wendy. She won't be a problem. Ever again."

"Mama!" Thomas bounces up and down excitedly on his Jax's lap, trying with all his might to snatch the photo from his Daddy's hand.

Grinning proudly, Jax kisses the top of his baby boy's silky blond head. Definitely Tara's son, Thomas had started talking early - boasting a short but impressive vocabulary by the time he was eight months old. "Yes, that's Mommy," he croons, letting Thomas touch the photo but holding it far it enough away so those chubby fingers don't mangle it in his eagerness.

Jax can certainly understand what's drawing his youngest son's enthusiasm; taken at Opie and Lyla's wedding, the photo's one of Jax's favorites - a candid close-up shot of radiant a Tara flashing her dazzling smile at someone off camera. Staring at the glossy picture, he can't help but smile himself despite the bittersweet pang squeezing his guts. Jesus, she was exceptionally gorgeous that night; maybe it was the high of freedom after fourteen months in state prison or the blissful afterglow of finally getting engaged to the love of his life, but he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her for a second (except when he and his Brothers had to take out Putlova and the rest of those Commie goons).

"I like this one." Abel pipes up, pointing at one of the photos he'd lined up in rows. "And this one…and this one…"

Arriving at the daycare, he'd barely hugged his boys hello before Abel pounced on him about his promise that they could look at more pictures from the wood box tonight - and continued to pelt reminders on the ride home, through dinner and bath time until Jax finally brought both boys to his room where the redwood box was waiting for them.

His throat tightens as he scans his oldest son's growing collection of favorites; each one featuring Abel with his Mommy - each one clearly reflecting how much Tara absolutely adored her little boy.

"…and this one - it's funny. Look Daddy!" Tearing his eyes from a snapshot of pregnant, misty-eyed Tara beaming proudly during Abel's first birthday party, Jax glances at the photo Abel's waving in his face and grows misty-eyed himself.

"You want to tell me what's wrong?" Tara props herself up on her elbow to study him; despite her dark sunglasses, he can feel those green eyes boring a hole into him. Fuck, he'd wanted to spend the unseasonably hot day at the lake with her and his friends, trying to forget the shit coiling inside him since the fight with his mother a few days ago. Everyone else either stayed away from him or shrugged off his bad temper, not his sweet little Tara - the only badass brave enough to deal with him during one of his "moods."

Rolling to his side, he caresses the pale, silky smooth skin bared by the dick-hardening bikini he loves so much. "Eighty degrees in November, skipping school with you…" He tugs her close to him. "What could possibly be wrong?"

Tara pulls off her glasses to peer into his eyes. "You've been snapping at everyone for almost a week." She quirks a perfectly arched brow then strokes his cheek with her soft hand. "I know what today is, Jax."

He closes his eyes to avoid the knowing compassion on her face; there's no fucking way he wants to break down here in front of her or the handful of people milling around, playing hooky from school or work. Yeah, she would know that a year ago, just a short year ago, that Jax's dad had breathed his last. Most thought JT pretty much died when the semi slammed into him a couple of days before, but Jax'll never forget the sounds of the hospital monitor flatlining above his dad's broken body or his mother's and Piney's cries of grief.

Not that Gemma's grieving anymore; Jax'd been outraged when he'd learned about her weekend getaway plans with Clay - the man he'd caught her fucking just a week after JT's funeral ("her way of dealing with the grief" was the bullshit she'd fed him). So riddled with his own grief and anger, Jax'd taken his temper out on everyone - and everyone had taken it, choosing to treat him like glass instead of calling him out on his asshole attitude. Everyone, that is, but Tara.

"Look Baby, I know it's hard." She runs her fingers through his hair. "But being a dick to your mom and your friends isn't going to bring him back. Opie rode all the way out here to see you, and you pissed him off so much that he'd rather hang out with Kyle and Lowell than his best friend. Do you really want to alienate everyone? Is that what JT would've wanted for you?"

Opening his eyes, he stares at the most beautiful face in the world; overcome by a surge of love and affection for the fifteen-year-old girl who knows him better than anyone, he thanks her wordlessly by bringing her hand to his lips. But although his anger drains away, he can't shake the grief. A fact not lost on the smartest girl he knows.

"I think I know what might make you feel a tiny bit better…" Pushing him so he's flat on his back, Tara straddles his thighs and runs her soft hands across his bare chest, spiking his excitement and his dick. Holy shit, does she want to fuck him right here out in the open? Hell, she'll get no protest from him; squeezing her ass, he stares hungrily at those lush breasts straining against her bikini top.

Reaching up to fill his hands with those puppies, he pauses dead in his tracks when her fingers stop enticingly short of his nipples and she flashes him that impish smile that's nothing but trouble. "Goddamn it…" Jax dissolves into helpless laughter as Tara tickles him mercilessly, digging those evil fingers into the weak spots on his body that no one else on this planet knows about.

"Does this feel good, Baby?" Tara fingers continue to poke deliciously at his secret spots as she squirms against his crotch. Since they were little kids, Jax had always let her tickle him so he could hear her laugh as well; in the last couple of months, she's modified her technique to stimulate his other sensitive parts - enticing him to laugh hysterically and come at the same time. Oh holy shit, if grinds against him one more time, she's going to have one wet seat; his cock's ready to explode.

Suddenly, laughter that doesn't belong to him or Tara penetrates his brain. Tilting his head, he's horrified to see Opie, Lowell and Kyle standing there laughing their asses off - Opie waving the camera that Lowell usually brings to snap pictures of chicks in bikinis.

"You fucking shitheads!" He shouts at them as Tara scoots back to sit on the blanket, no hint of apology or sympathy on her grinning face. "I'll be right back." Cupping her cheeks, he smacks a hard kiss to her lips then takes off to go kill his friends.

"Daddy ticklish?" Giggling, Abel digs his small fingers into Jax's ribs forcing a chuckle to rumble from deep inside him.

Indulging his little boy like he first did for five-year-old Tara so many years ago, Jax sets Thomas on the rug next to his brother before doubling over with laughter, loving the sound of both his sons crowing with glee at the sight of their daddy rolling on ground as they tickled him.

"Okay, okay…my turn now!" Jax bolts ups and enfolds the little blond mini-me's in his arms, tickling their bellies and smacking wet kisses on their faces as they squeal in delight. "You got to do me a big favor, buddy." Ruffling Thomas' hair, he winks conspiratorially at Abel. "Don't tell anybody about Daddy being ticklish…it's a secret. Before only Mommy knew, now just us guys."

Nodding enthusiastically, Abel clasps his little brother's hand. "Me and Tommy promise."

Grinning, Jax hugs his boys tighter, pressing kisses to their foreheads as he gazes once again at the close-up photo of Tara from Opie and Lyla's wedding. She'd been smiling at him when the wedding photographer had snapped the picture; he likes thinking it's a special smile she saved exclusively for him. Somewhere, he hopes that she's smiling as she watches them, the three Teller men who loved her more than anything. And still do.

"I do love dancing with you, Baby." Tara snuggles against him as he tightens his arms around her. Since dancing with her usually meant making out on the dance floor while swaying to the music, he agrees wholeheartedly. Back in high school - much to his Mother and Brothers' surprise - he never missed a chance to take Tara to the school dances - yeah, because he loved slow dancing with her, but also because they never lasted more than half an hour before taking off to have sex in some dark classroom.

"Yeah…" His hands glide across the velvety soft skin bared by that mouthwatering blue dress; his whole body still buzzing from the short, hot fuck in her Mommy SUV. He and his Brothers had just got back from dealing with their Russian problem when Tara had "dragged" him off to the parking lot. "You lucky bastard," Kozik had groused; Jax had smirked smugly in return.

He nods vaguely as the newly married Opie and Lyla wave goodnight, leaving him and Tara alone on the dance floor. Not that he gives a shit. Especially when he feels those plump lips graze his throat, his ear, his cheek…Capturing her lips, he feels his heart swell and pulse race as she sinks her tongue into his mouth. Yeah, he's a lucky bastard. The luckiest.

The buzzing on his phone nearly causes him to drop the photo of him and Tara dancing at Opie and Lyla's wedding. After putting the boys to bed a few hours ago, he'd gone back to his room to put all the pictures back in the redwood box - only to pull more out. Stacking the photos carefully, he drops them back in the box then glances down at his phone to read the anonymous text he'd been expecting for hours.

"Women's County parking. One hour."

Not wanting to attract any undue attention, Jax parks his truck on a dark residential street a couple of blocks away from County then heads off on foot to the back parking lot to meet Reese. Clenching his fists, he knows it'll take every ounce of his self-control not to finish off that prick; pounding the shit out of the smug asshole this afternoon, not to mention burning his pictures out of spite, hadn't been nearly enough to satisfy his jealous blood lust.

Approaching the Women's County Jail building, Jax grits his teeth as bitter memories slam into him of all the times he'd tried to see Tara there after her arrest - only to be turned away when she refused to see him. During his fourteen months in Stockton, he'd obsessed about her non-stop, counted the minutes until visiting day each week when he could be with her. So it'd fucking infuriated him to think that she could revert back to that overly self-sufficient girl who didn't need anyone, not even him. And it'd terrified him that he finally pushed her too far, that she finally stopped loving him.

So in a vile, selfish act of betrayal, he'd turned to Colette as an escape from his anger and fear. And shit, to close his eyes and pretend to be with Tara - just like he'd done with every other meaningless piece of ass he'd fucked since he was nineteen, after she left him the first time.

Bile rises in his throat, threatening to choke him as he remembers gasping Tara's name in that filthy whore's bed then practically bolting out of there so he could puke his goddamn guts out. Christ. If only he'd learned his fucking lesson then…

"You ready?" Reese steps out of the shadows, barely recognizable in a black hoodie and jeans, but Jax'll never forget that asshole's voice for as long as he lives.

Remaining silent, Jax just scowls at the stupid fuck; if he wasn't ready to do this, he wouldn't fucking be here. No, he's more than ready to confront the woman who claims to know something about Tara's murder. And if it's bullshit just to get out from under her drug charge, he's going to strangle the bitch with his bare hands.

Jax doesn't bother asking Reese how he arranged to have an inmate released for questioning at 2AM; frankly, he doesn't fucking care. Although he doesn't trust the fucking son-of-a-bitch for a second, Jax knows Reese wants justice for Tara, maybe almost as badly as he does.

Without saying another word to each other, they walk through a back entrance held open by a tall Sanwa deputy who Jax's never seen before. Apparently Reese's wasted no time collecting minions to do his bidding. The guy leads them to a small room overlooking an equally small interrogation room - where Colette's sitting at the table looking tired and pissed. Apparently they hadn't told her shit, which was fine with him. Surprise's always the best mode of attack.

"Better be no cameras." He glares at the deputy who shakes his head and admits that the camera's been broken for a couple of years - so they use this room for other "purposes." Jax rolls his eyes; he really doesn't want to fucking know.

"Maybe if you play your cards right, you can fuck your whore for old time's sake." Reese sneers at him, hate burning hotly in his cold blue eyes.

Ignoring the intense need to shove his knife into the insufferable prick's gut, Jax smirks at the black eye and big purple bruise on Reese's pretty boy face as the asshole pulls down his hood. "Fuck you." Then shoving past both men, he lets himself into the other room. Showtime.

"Oh Jax, thank god you've come," Colette tries to leap out of her chair to greet him, apparently forgetting the cuffs shackling her to the table. Shit, Reese must really have it in for her; Colette's not the slightest bit dangerous so all the restraints must be the control freak's way of reminding her of what she is - a criminal and a prisoner.

Faking a smile, Jax shuts the door then leans against it, trying to tamp down the urge to grab her by the throat and force what he wants to hear out of that foul dick sucking mouth. But that approach could get him nowhere if she balks; he can't afford to let her use what she knows to make a deal with Patterson.

"Hey darlin', you holding up okay?" Sitting down across from her, Jax pretends to give a shit as he leans forward and tries to look concerned. However, he keeps his hands close to his sides; there's no way he's touching this bitch again - ever. "Sorry you got railroaded, I'm trying to find you a good lawyer so we can get you out of here."

Up close, he can see her broken nose and bruised face from when Tara smashed it with her cast. Maybe he's a sick son-of-a-bitch, but he couldn't deny the thrill he'd felt to see that his girl still cared enough about him to beat the shit out of the skanks trying to steal her man. And there's no fucking doubt, he'd always be hers - whether she wanted him or not.

Colette shakes her head. "No, you've got to get Rosen to take my case, Jax. He's the best. I know he's beat charges like these before, beat that bitch DA before. I've already got two strikes on my record, one more and I won't be getting out of Chowchilla until I'm a goddamn senior citizen."

"Yeah, he told me you called him - that you had info that could help find Tara's murderer. Is that true?"

Disappointment clouds her face as she leans back in her chair. "I should've known that this visit wasn't about any concern for me. You're here to find out about your wife."

What the fuck did she think? He swallows his anger and flashes her the smile that's been melting women since the day he was born. "Can't it be both?" Watching her waver, he pounces. "Look, I want to know what happened to Tara. So does Rosen - he's always had a soft spot for her. You tell me what you know, and I'll make sure he's here first thing in the morning to take your case."

"But if you go after who killed her and that Sheriff, I lose my leverage." Colette may be trash, but she's smart trash. "The DA won't be interested in prosecuting a dead murderer. It won't matter who my lawyer is."

Jax curls his hands into fists so tight, he can feel his short fingernails digging into his skin. Although he knew her plan, it's quite another thing to listen to this goddamn fucking bitch trying to leverage Tara's murder for a walk on drug charges. It's everything he can do to keep from leaping across the table and bashing her fucking head into the cement wall.

"Rosen doesn't need to use what you know to get you a walk," he tells her, lying through his fucking teeth. "He knows enough shit about this place, about the DA to force her into any deal. Shit, Patterson could've nailed me on parole violation when they found me with a gun at my place. Rosie got that kicked before she could even file charges." Pasting an earnest expression on his face, he goes in for the kill. "The man's good, really good…but he also knows where the bodies are buried, and that's what makes him the best."

His sales pitch must've worked because she nods slowly then takes a deep breath. "Okay…The day your wife and that Sheriff got killed, I wasn't at Diosa all day like I said. Charlie told me that you and the missus split up, that she took your kids and left town…So I thought that maybe you would need me…like before. But you never showed so I had one of my girls drive me to Charming."

He'd been willing to let pass how she made his skin crawl with her flirtatious glances, even managed to force down his nausea at the thought she expected him to fuck her again. But the fact she'd gone to his house shoots his rage to the surface; this time he doesn't try to mask it. "My wife was murdered at our house…are you telling me that you saw something? Or did something?"

The coldness freezing his blood must've seeped to his expression and his voice because fear spreads across her face as she shakes her head almost frantically. "I didn't do anything, Jax. I swear. Once I saw her getting out of her car, we took off…I can give you my driver's name; she'll tell you the same thing."

"What did you see?" Out of fucking patience, he grits out the words.

Closing her eyes, as if trying to remember or trying to avoid the lethal glare on his face. "I saw her coming home; she had the Sheriff with her. She went inside and he stayed outside. We left right after that." Jax knows that corroborates the CSU report that Tara died first, and that Roosevelt must've stumbled on her body before getting shot in the back.

"That's it?" The calm in his voice surprises him given the pounding in his skull. "You can't possibly believe the DA would give you a deal for that."

She shakes her head. "No…there was a truck in your driveway so they had to park on the street. It said Unser Trucking. I recognized the name because some guys who used to work there a couple of years ago used to be customers."

Slamming his fists against the table, Jax shoots out of his chair; every vein in body about to burst from the boiling rage exploding inside of him. "What time was this?" He manages to spit out the question despite the roaring in his ears - although not that it fucking matters; he'd blocked out most of what happened that day except those last hours with Tara in the park and then in the motel…then finding her lifeless body on their kitchen floor.

"I don't know…" Colette cries as he lunges towards her. "I really don't….That day, I did a few lines, more than a few…that's why I needed someone to drive me."

Turning on his heel, Jax stalks towards the door; gripping the door knob, he looks over his shoulder at a shaken Colette. "Don't tell anyone else what you told me, except Rosen. He'll be here in the morning. Just like I promised." Storming out the door, he slams it shut and runs straight into Reese, the deputy nowhere in sight.

"What are you going to do, Teller?" The hot fury in his eyes mirrors the inferno Jax feels burning a hole inside him.

"I'm going to see my mother."