CHAPTER 19: OWNING MY PLACE
"For the millionth fucking time, I didn't see the guy's face," Reese snarls at her, his cold blue eyes snapping with temper. "He was wearing a fucking ski mask, which you saw with your own fucking eyes. Seriously Lieutenant, you and every one of your deputies need to be out there looking for that goddamn son-of-a-bitch, not wasting time here with me. Every minute that maniac's running free means…HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
Jarry raises her brows as Reese lashes out at the poor young nurse who'd been cleaning the jagged edges of his skin, torn by the bullet that ripped through his shoulder. In all the years she's known Nick Reese, Jarry's never seen him lose his shit like this; the state's Golden Boy wasn't handling his first gunshot wound very well - although Jarry's pretty sure that what's whipped him into a crazed frenzy has nothing to do with the pain in his shoulder.
"I've got all my deputies on this, Nick - not to mention all the law enforcement in the state. You know we take Amber Alerts very seriously, especially since the kidnapper was armed. But if you can remember anything else about the guy - anything at all - that might help us find him faster…"
Reese closes his eyes, flinching as he confronts the horrifying, panic-laced memory - the grim sight of blood gushing from the fallen victims, the heart-stopping sound of the little Teller boys' terrified screams, the burn of the bullet tearing through his shoulder as he tried to wrench the crying children away from the madman…
"Nothing…goddamn it, not a fucking thing!" Reese slams his fist against the wall, startling the nurse wrapping the bandage around his upper arm. He shakes his head then stares hard at Jarry, who's stunned by the tears rimming his eyes and the tortured look on his face. "Just what I told you before…he was white, a few inches shorter than me and had light colored eyes - blue or maybe gray."
"Are you sure you didn't hear him say anything?" Jarry prods the snarling tiger once again. "We've always suspected that SAMCRO was in bed with the IRA, running their guns up and down the coast. Just because no one could prove it didn't mean it wasn't true. Maybe Teller pissed off his business partners, and they went after his kids."
He glares at her in outraged disbelief. "What the fuck…you think the son-of-a-bitch belted out a verse of 'Danny Boy' before he took off? No, he didn't say a goddamn thing." Reese waits for the nurse to attach a sling to his arm then hops off the exam table and stalks out the door, despite the nurse's squawking insistence that he stay put and wait for the doctor.
"Where the hell are you going?" Jarry scampers after him, only to be coldly ignored as Reese marches towards the elevator. "You really should go back in there and wait for the doctor to look at that shoulder."
Her cel phone buzzes before she could insist further - not that the Chief Deputy Attorney General, in full asshole mode, would listen to her. Reading the text, Jarry sighs heavily and turns to walk towards the exit as Reese stomps into the elevator headed upstairs. More fun - Papa Teller and friends have just arrived.
Vibrating with unrestrained fear and fury, Jax curls his fists - ready to beat the shit out of the snot-nosed deputy blocking his entrance into the hospital. After the Sheriff's cryptic yet shattering call that something had happened to his boys, they'd ridden here hell for leather from the Wahewa reservation - only to be greeted by the sight of cops and police tape all over the St. Thomas parking lot…and this little shit in a uniform telling them that they couldn't go inside until the Sheriff got there.
"Listen here, asshole…" Jax snarls, getting into the visibly trembling prick's face. "You'd better get the fuck out of my way before I…" Before he can finish threatening to kill a member of law enforcement, Jarry conveniently appears - saving her deputy from a bloody beat down.
"Mr. Teller, it's Lieutenant Althea Jarry. We need you to come down to St. Thomas Hospital immediately."
"Why? Look I'm in the middle of something. I really don't have time to…"
"It's about your sons, Mr. Teller. I suggest you get here right now."
But she'd hung up before Jax could blast her with his frantic questions, leaving him a freaked-out, fucking mess running full speed for his bike while barking orders to his Brothers, who'd followed on his heels - leaving Gemma alone with her new family of flesh eating ants. Not that he gave a shit; all that mattered were his boys.
Shoving past the relieved-looking deputy, Jax lurches towards the stony-faced Sheriff. "Where are my sons?!" he demands, summoning every ounce of control not to pound the answers out of her. Although he'd been raised never to a hit a woman, that rule went to hell long ago; Jax's all about equal opportunity when it comes to crushing the assholes who hurt his family.
"You need to calm down, Mr. Teller. I need to ask you some questions…"
Jax's control shatters as he lunges for Jarry, only to be forcibly held back by Bobby and Chibs; rage and fear might've blinded him to the consequences of attacking the Sheriff in front of her armed deputies, but not his Brothers. Struggling to escape their grasp, he pins Jarry with a glare that promises bloody death if she's using his boys to fuck with him.
Unfazed, the Sheriff waves down the deputies who'd come running at the sight of Teller on the verge of attacking their boss. Turning back to Jax, Jarry's steely eyes bore into him. "I'm sure you have a few enemies, Mr. Teller. But I need to know right now who'd want to hurt you enough by going after your sons. I'm somewhat versed in how MC beefs work - that no matter how bad it gets, small children are off limits. So this has to be something else. Maybe one of your other 'associates'?"
Jax clenches his fists to keep from wrapping his hands around her goddamn neck. "I'm not answering any of your fucking questions until you tell me what's happened to my boys," he hisses through gritted teeth. "Where the fuck are they?"
But her words do hit home; acid burns through Jax's veins, his mind filling with hellish memories of when that bastard Hayes kidnapped Abel. Could those Irish pricks have tried again? But why? Roarke had seemed satisfied with the deal to transfer the guns to the Mayans, especially with the increased orders from the Italians.
Jarry's gaze flickers briefly to the other SAMCRO members before resting on Jax once again. "A man wearing a mask tried to abduct both your sons in the parking lot. He shot your two guys then…"
"Wait..." Jax pounces, every cell in his body skipping with hope - despite the horror of hearing that Rat and Chucky had been shot. "You said he 'tried' to take them…you mean Abel and Thomas are safe?"
At the Sheriff's silence and averted gaze, Jax feels his heart plummet to his feet. No…not his babies…they had to be okay. "Tell me…" he rasps as panic claws at his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him.
"Your older boy, Abel…he got away. The doctors have him under observation in ICU; I was told he should be fine."
Jax exhales in relief, but the suffocating pressure in his chest remains. "What about Thomas? He's just a baby…" Whatever tiny hope he'd nurtured about both his boys' safety shatters into fucking pieces at the rueful sympathy on her face. His legs buckle as agonized grief swamps him; only his Brothers' restraining arms prevent him from falling to his knees. Oh fucking holy Christ, please…not sweet, bubbly Thomas - not the beautiful baby boy he and Tara created together…
"We weren't able to stop the man from taking Thomas. I'm sorry, Jax." Jarry reaches over to touch his arm. "I've got every man on this, and an Amber Alert's been issued for the entire state. We'll find your son."
Unable to speak, he nods stiffly then tries to listen, despite the fierce roaring in his ears, as she tells him about Rat and Chucky, who - to his profound relief - survived the shooting, for now. He owes those two so much for taking care of his boys, and now taking bullets to protect them - although something doesn't fit…
Finding his voice, he waylays her as she turns to walk towards her car. "You said Rat and Chucky were downed first…how did Abel get away from the guy?" He and Tara had encouraged physical activity for both their sons, but they'd kept extra watch on Abel given his heart condition. As a result, the little boy had thrived under Tara's care to the point most forgot about his CHD, but Abel was no match for a grown man - especially one psychotic enough to shoot up a hospital parking lot.
She stares at him wordlessly for a moment, a speculative gleam lighting her eyes. "He had a little help."
"Hey, what's going on in here?" Arriving home, he's lured into the kitchen by the sounds of Tara's singsong voice and Abel's giggles. In the doorway, Jax grins at the sight of his family clustered at the table - Abel bouncing up and down in his chair chirping excitedly while Tara, nursing Thomas, smiles at her boys indulgently.
During his fourteen months in Stockton, Jax'd ached for moments like this - spending time at home with Tara and their kids. Although she'd been diligent in not missing a single weekly visit or holiday, that regimented time with his family hadn't been enough - not nearly enough.
So now that he's finally out, he's been doing everything he can to spend as much time with his family - not an easy feat given all the extra work from the new Irish deal, not to mention the new shit with the Galindo cartel. But ever since Jax was a teenager, he'd always been able to find ways to escape his Club responsibilities to be with Tara - not going to stop now.
"Daddy!" Abel leaps out of his chair to greet him. Hoisting his son into his arms, Jax ruffles his hair before smacking a kiss to his cheek. "We looking at the pictures." Abel tells him eagerly, pointing to the photographs displayed neatly on the table.
"Sounds like fun. I can't wait to see them." Jax lowers Abel onto his chair before walking over to Tara and Thomas. "And hello to the two of you." He drops a kiss on Thomas' downy head before pressing a longer, wetter one to Tara's lips - drawing back only when his dick starts twitching; family time wasn't the only thing he can't seem to get enough of…
Sliding into the chair next to her, his grin widens as he picks up the photo in front of him. "These turned out really good." A couple days after he got out of Stockton, Tara had hired Elyda's cousin to take family pictures of the four of them since none existed with Jax and Thomas together. It's as if she'd read his mind; when he was inside, every time someone sent him photos of her and the boys, he'd count down the days until he could join them in those pictures.
They'd had a blast during the photoshoot in the backyard - evident by the smiles and laughter on their photographed faces: Jax tossing a laughing Abel in the air, blowing raspberries on Thomas' feet and belly, nuzzling and licking Tara's neck instead of smiling for the camera.
"This one's my fav'rite." Abel announces, sliding a photo towards his parents. "And this one…and this one…"
Smiling, Tara taps him on the nose. "Well then it's settled - we'll put those pictures in these frames and the others in the photo album. Sound good?"
Abel nods eagerly while Jax peruses the photos his son selected, warmth spreading through his veins as he stares at the image of the four of them seated on a blanket, his arms wrapped tightly around Abel and Tara, who's cradling Thomas. Even in a photograph Tara's smile could still make his heart pound and his pulse race. "Yeah, I like this one, too."
"Unfortunately, we had to sedate him." Dr. Namid had flagged Jax down just as he and his Brothers emerged from the elevator, leaving no doubt that Tara's children would always receive the best of care from her former employers. "Abel was hysterical when they brought him in, screaming for his little brother…we were afraid all that stress could trigger something with his heart. But don't worry, it was a small dose - just enough for him to relax, maybe take a little nap."
Jax jams his hands in his pockets as he gazes worriedly at the doctor. "But he's going to be okay, right?" He desperately needs that peace of mind before he and his Brothers can go torch the earth searching for Thomas.
The other man nods reassuringly. "Other than some scrapes and bruises, Abel's perfectly fine. However, we want to keep him here overnight for observation - and to talk to one of our counselors, he's been through a terrifying ordeal." The doctor's professional demeanor falters, as if remembering the other trauma Abel suffered - that they all suffered - by losing Tara. "You can go see him now."
A tiny fraction of him relaxes a bit at the confirmation that Abel was truly okay. "Thanks, Doc." Jax shakes the hand of the man who'd worked tirelessly with Tara to save Abel's life. It's hard to believe that was just a few years ago; Jax feels like he's aged a fucking century since then.
Heading to the ICU, he wracks his brain for the words to explain to Abel what happened to his little brother; he knows how close the boys are and that, since Tara's death, Abel's been especially militant in his protectiveness. For the billionth time, Jax wishes that she was here; with her at his side, there wasn't anything he couldn't fucking handle - provided she didn't rip his goddamn head off for once again endangering her babies.
He can't help but remember all the hours she'd spent beside him, holding his hand, as they kept vigil over Abel - first as an infant fighting to survive and then when fucking Gemma had nearly killed him and Thomas after losing control of her car. His hand aches for her soft fingers to twine with his, just like they'd done so many times in the past when life threatened to overwhelm him. Rubbing his wedding ring, Jax sends her a silent promise that he'll fix this, that their boys will be safe.
Upon reaching Abel's room, Jax's not surprised to see Reese practically pressed up against the glass - not after Jarry shocked the shit out of him with the account of the silver-spooned Golden Boy diving at the masked gunman. Apparently Reese managed to wrest Abel away - only to get shot in the shoulder when trying to grab Thomas, still strapped in his carrier. Jarry, who'd been right behind him, had managed to corral a screaming Abel but decided not to shoot at the fleeing kidnapper in fear of hurting Thomas.
Jax greets him with a brief nod before walking into Abel's room; he's got plenty to say to Tara's ex-boyfriend, but first and foremost, he needs to see his son. His heart squeezes at the sight of his sweet little boy once again tucked into a hospital bed, once again attached to more tubes than Jax wanted count while a machine monitors every heartbeat.
"Hi Daddy." Abel murmurs sleepily, his eyes opening slowly as Jax walks over to the hospital bed and squeezes his hand.
Smiling softly, he bends to kiss Abel's forehead. "Hey Little Man. How you feeling?"
"Sad…" Lower lip trembling, Abel stares up at him with sleepy, tear-filled eyes. "The bad man took Tommy…He made Tommy cry…"
Gently ruffling Abel's hair, Jax forces cheerfulness into his voice. "Don't you worry a second about that…I'm going to find your brother and bring him back here to you - I got all your uncles and all the cops in the state looking for him. I promise he's going to be fine."
"Mommy said Tommy gets scared and needs me…I'm the big brother…but I was scared too..."
Jax grits his teeth, trying not to think of all the brutal pain he's going to inflict on the soon-to-be-dead fucker who attacked his family, but Abel doesn't need his rage right now. "I know Mommy will understand; more than anything, she'd want for you and Thomas to be safe. She and I love you both so much. So no feeling bad about being scared, okay?"
Abel nods then closes his eyes, surrendering to the sedative. "I wish she was here."
Feeling his eyes sting, Jax smooths the little boy's hair before kissing his soft cheek. "Me too, Buddy. Me too." Then glancing around the room, he spots Abel's massive backpack on a guest chair; apparently someone on the hospital staff knew how important it was to the little boy.
He rifles through pack and pulls out one of the framed pictures that Abel had pilfered from their house. A small smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes his son's favorite family picture; he can understand Abel's partiality to it as he carries a snapshot version in his wallet. Jax's smile disappears as pained regret stabs at him once again at the sight of his once happy family. Brushing a finger across the image of Tara's beautiful smiling face, he sinks into the chair as the always-present, always-excruciating "what-if's" crush him.
"We're going to take our boys and we're going to get the hell out of here. Start fresh somewhere. Be a real family."
If only they'd done just that the day he got out of Stockton…
Shooting out of the chair, he shakes his head violently, shoving those debilitating thoughts aside; he can't afford to wallow in regret right now, not when Thomas needs him. He presses his lips against the photo before gently tucking it into Abel's small hand. Gazing at his sleeping son, Jax kisses his little boy's forehead one more time before turning to leave.
"We can keep Quinn here." Bobby tells him quietly; he and Chibs had been waiting for Jax outside of Abel's room. "If it was the Irish who did this…he'll recognize the bastards if they come here."
Jax hesitates for a split second thinking that they'll need every man available to help find Thomas; however, knowing that he can't leave Abel and his injured Brothers unprotected, he nods his approval. "Call Alvarez. Tell him I need his help right away. Tell him to bring a fucking army. And Chibs, get any intel you can about whether the Irish have a bug up their ass about me or SAMCRO. If they did this…" Fury consumes him; if those greedy bastards hurt his little boy, he'll gut them all then set their motherfucking bodies on fire.
After agreeing to meet downstairs in five minutes, Chibs and Bobby rush off to make their calls leaving Jax to finish one more thing he's got to do. Walking back to the ICU glass wall, he sidles next to Reese - who hasn't budged from his vigil since Jax arrived.
Without looking in his direction or even uttering a greeting, Reese shoves a wad of paper in Jax's hand. "The man who took Thomas…he was wearing a mask, I didn't see much of his face. Just that he was white, about six feet and had blue, maybe gray eyes. He was driving a dark gray minivan…that's all I could make out of the license plate."
"Thanks man, I know you didn't have to…"
"Don't..." Reese snaps coldly although his eyes remain glued to the sleeping Abel. "I didn't do it for you...I gave that same info to Jarry, but you need to find the son-of-a-bitch first. Do the tax payers a favor and put the animal down."
Momentarily taken aback, Jax glances down at the paper then stares hard at the other man, taking in the fresh cuts on his face, the rips and bloodstains on his obviously expensive suit, the sling cradling his injured shoulder. He'll always hate the insufferable prick - but after risking everything to save Jax's sons, Nick Reese deserves his respect and gratitude today and every day for the rest of eternity.
He turns to leave, only to stop short as Reese's voice breaks the tense silence. "You know, I never wanted kids…Didn't want them to deal with the life my brother and I had growing up…all the expectations, all the pressure to be worthy of our family's legacies…it's fucking endless."
Jamming his hands into his pocket, Jax remains silent; he knows that story all too well, having lived the outlaw version for most of his life.
"Then Tara showed up at my office, begging for my help so she could get into the prison infirmary to help you. Seeing her pregnant like that…" Closing his eyes, Reese shakes his head roughly - as if trying to dislodge a painful burr from his brain. "That should've been my kid. If only I'd stood up to my family…told my mother to mind her own fucking business…"
Swallowing hard, Jax blinks back the wetness gathering in his own eyes as the same agonizing, toxic combo of regret and guilt slice through him again - it's especially brutal now that he knows the murderous lengths his own mother had gone to so that he'd always be tied to his MC birthright.
"This is on you, Teller." Reese pins him with frosty blue eyes glittering with tortured rage. "This fucked-up life of yours killed Tara and now this…That son-of-a-bitch went after the boys because of you…because of you and your goddamn band of criminals."
Jax steps closer, glowering at the man who'd saved Abel. "I got justice for Tara," he hisses, watching as realization then satisfaction spreads across Reese's face. "And I've got this, too. I'll bring Thomas home safe."
"You'd better…" Reese grits out through clenched teeth. "If anything happens to Tara's son…I'll kill you myself."
Jax's eyes snap open as his whole body jolts awake, trying to escape the throes of another bloody fucking nightmare. Christ, they're getting worse - especially now that he's got so much more to lose. Tightening his arm around Tara, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead then smirks to himself when she doesn't stir. Poor baby, he'd really worn her out tonight.
But after fourteen months locked up in Stockton - fourteen goddamn endless months of abstinence (aside from jerking off to the thought of her every fucking night) - who the hell could blame him? Especially since Tara's always been just as eager to jump his bones any time, any place; tonight after they'd put the boys to bed, she'd ambushed him in the shower then fucked him senseless until the water chilled and his legs buckled. He'd returned the favor later in bed - driving her to orgasm with his fingers, his tongue, his dick - over and over and over until she finally passed out.
Cries from the baby monitor stop him from waking her up for round three. "I'll get him," he whispers as she starts to rouse. "Don't get up." He drops a kiss on those plump pink lips then slides out of bed, slipping on his boxers as he pads down the hall to Thomas' room.
"Hey Buddy…" he croons, plucking his screaming son out of his crib. "It's okay, Daddy's here now…" After changing Thomas' wet diaper, Jax sits on the futon with his baby cradled in his arms. Stroking Thomas soft blond hair, he chuckles softly as his infant mini-me gifts him with a gurgling, toothless grin.
During his early days in Stockton, Jax had worried that he'd be a stranger to his boys by the time he finally got out, just like Opie had been to his kids after serving five years in Chino. But it'd been a needless fear since Tara - the motherless little girl with an abusive, absent father - had made sure both boys stayed as close as possible to their Daddy. So Abel, who'd also started demonstrating a remarkable memory that could rival Jax's Crazy Uncle Joe, had no trouble ever remembering him; as for Thomas - to Jax's delight, they'd bonded the instant they met.
"You hungry? Does Daddy taste good?" Jax laughs as Thomas grabs hold of one of his long fingers and shoves it into his mouth. "Well it's not quite feeding time; we should probably let Mommy sleep for a few more minutes. You okay with that?"
Jax's grin widens, his heart melting in his chest as Thomas' twinkling green eyes ensnare him - like mother, like son.
"I don't think it's the Irish," Chibs announces, walking into the ice cream parlor and dropping his cel phone onto the bar. After unsuccessfully scouring Charming's streets for the dark gray minivan that Reese described, the Men of Mayhem decided to meet at Scoops to regroup. "I talked to Fiona, and she said that Roarke and the others are real happy with the new deal. They got on the plane this mornin' to head here to make it final. The Irish Kings were in the air when that bastard took Tommy Boy."
Jax runs a shaking hand through his hair for the millionth time. "Ok, thanks. I just feel we're overlooking something…" He's been wracking his brain, trying to figure out who'd want to hurt him enough to involve his sons. Jarry was right - despite the brutality the different Clubs inflicted on each other, young children were always out of bounds; it's an unspoken code that they - most of them fathers - all lived by.
The Irish were a different matter since they had that side business of selling "orphan" kids for adoption - but even when Abel was kidnapped, it hadn't been the Irish calling the shots on that, just Cameron Hayes' fucked up idea of "son-for-a-son" justice. No, after more thought, it didn't make sense for the Irish to be involved; they stood to make a lot of money with the new deal. Kidnapping Jax's kids would only hurt that arrangement - especially with one Marco DeNotti, Tara's unusual friend, calling the shots for the Italians.
"Any luck there?" Chibs nods over to Juice, who's hunched over a laptop typing furiously under Tig's watchful glare. Upon leaving the hospital, Jax had directed Tig to drive Juice back to Scoops in hopes that they could use Juice's computer hacking skills to identify Thomas' kidnapper from the partial license plate number that Reese had given them.
Shaking his head, Jax stubs out his cigarette and lights another - anything to distract himself from the crushing worry for his baby boy. "Not yet."
Climbing into the back of the van, Jax glares down at his bound and gagged former Brother, a man he'd once trusted with his life until Juice had betrayed that trust. But now he needs the traitor's help to save Thomas.
"Tig's taking you back to Scoops. Someone's kidnapped Thomas, and I need your help…" Jax crouches in front of his prisoner who's staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. "If you help me find my son…you and I will be square. You can walk away from all of this clean."
"Hey Alvarez is here." Happy informs them, peering out the window. "That was some fast riding; Taco Nation must've taken a jet here from Oakland."
"Nah," Bobby corrects him as he climbs out of his seat to follow Jax outside. "He was in Stockton when I talked to him - doing clean up on the Mayan clubhouse….Stockton PD's still all over that place."
Slamming out the door, Jax stops in his tracks at the sight in front of him. Alvarez had come through with Jax's request to bring an army - and then some; Mayans on motorcycles crowd the street - no doubt to the confusion of the town's residents and the chagrin of the Sanwa deputies charged with keeping an eye on SAMCRO.
"Thanks for coming, man." Jax shakes Alvarez's hand, grimly aware of how often Alvarez's intervened to help Jax's family - first when Tara was kidnapped and now to find Thomas.
"Are you willing to let your family pay the price for your mistakes?" Patterson's haunting words ring in his ears; although Jax's grateful for the help and concern for his boys, it fucking kills him that he's always putting the people he loves so much at risk. He's already lost Tara; now Abel's in the hospital again - reeling from the guilt of letting his little brother and his Mommy down - and Thomas…
Jax once again tries to ignore the near paralyzing terror grinding at his bones; he can't bear the thought of his sweet baby boy at the mercy of some crazy fucker bent on punishing SAMCRO for some perceived wrong. What if they can't find Thomas in time - what if Jax can't save the precious life that he and Tara created together? Fear and grief swamp him at the thought of never again watching Thomas' sparkling green eyes - so like Tara's - light up, never again hearing those infectious giggles or warbling attempts at conversation, never again cradling his baby in his arms and feeling those small fingers pluck at his beard or that soft, chubby cheek pressed against his shoulder.
"We'll find him Jax." Alvarez grips his shoulder reassuringly, no doubt recognizing the crushing anxiety that's snared Jax in its icy grip. "I got my guys doing patrols all around Stockton and Oakland - if he got that far - discreet and all, so we don't spook the fucker. They all got the info on the minivan and partial plate number that you texted me."
Jax attempts a smile but fails miserably. "Thank you," he rasps hoarsely then leads Alvarez and a few other Mayans inside. "We're trying to ID the driver based on what we have of that plate number. But if you or your guys hear anything on the ground about someone having a beef with me or SAMCRO, I want to know."
Nodding, Alvarez slides into a booth opposite Jax. "You got it, esé. But I got to ask…Do you think that, maybe, this is real personal - that the guy who took your son also killed your wife?"
Suddenly the image of Gemma covered by swarming ants and the sound of her agonized screams fill his head; he waits for the regret, the guilt to hit him for what he'd done to his mother. But just like when he killed Wendy, he feels nothing - absolutely fucking nothing. Maybe it should bother him that he's now a full-blown sociopath, but it doesn't - not in the goddamn least. "No, it's not related," he hisses through clenched teeth.
Alvarez raises a brow at Jax's definitive, yet uncorroborated answer but keeps silent - to Jax's relief; he's got no desire to talk about the psychotic bitch who ruined his life, especially not when they need to focus on getting Thomas back.
"For a minute we thought it might be the Irish, pissed off about our new arrangement - they've tried to destroy us before, blew up our Clubhouse. But don't worry…" Jax rushes to assure the Mayan President before concern over losing the deal could take root. "We talked to one of them over there, and Roarke and his altar boys are good with you taking over; they were 30,000 feet in the air when that bastard took my son."
Lighting a cigarette, Alvarez remains impassive but Jax could sense his relief; after losing the Galindo cartel income, the Mayans have been relentlessly seeking other opportunities to earn - it'd been why they chose to initially piss off Jax by setting up a charter in Stockton. Taking over distribution of the Irish guns from SAMCRO, especially with the new pipeline of Italian money…well that was like fucking MC Christmas.
"I'll leave some of my soldiers here in case you need them." Alvarez nods over at a handful of Mayans standing at the bar. "The rest of us will split north and south of here, and my crew in Oakland will cover the Bay. We'll get your boy back."
Jax shoots SAMCRO's former nemesis a tight, grateful smile as they shake hands. "Hey Marcus…" he calls out impulsively when Alvarez rises to leave. "Do you ever think about getting out? Leave all this shit and run for the hills? You got a wife, young kids…do you ever wonder what it'd be like not to worry all the time - about them, about staying whole?"
Alvarez slides out of the booth without saying a word and - for a moment - Jax wonders if the other biker king's going to ignore his questions, chalk them up as ramblings of a man who's gone batshit crazy.
Instead, Alvarez places his hands on the table and leans in to peer into Jax's face. "I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about it. We all think about it…about some peaceful-as-shit-life where all you got to do is work at some 9-to-5 shit job then go home to play with the kids and have sex with the wife. It's a goddamn pipe dream, Jax; guys like you and me - we can't walk away. MC's too deep in our blood, and it'll always follows us no matter what we fucking do…" Alvarez's face hardens as he straightens and steps back from Jax. "Look at Nero…he was so ready to get out - take his son and move to a damn farm. But in the end, he couldn't walk away and this life took him out."
"He's beautiful…" Jax cradles his newborn son in one arm, pulling Tara closer with the other. She'd brought Thomas here on visiting day, just days after giving birth, so that father and son could meet for the first time. Gazing down at the precious bundle in his arms, he feels tears sting as his baby boy peers up at him. "Nice to finally meet you, Thomas…I'm your old man."
Tara giggles and strokes his cheek. "Now that would be obvious to anyone…he looks just like you. Even Gemma says so."
Capturing her hand, he presses it to his lips as he continues to marvel at their son - slowly scanning every adorable inch of Thomas Teller. "I was hoping he'd have your eyes." Although Jax loves that Thomas resembles him, he wants all his kids with Tara to have her stunning mossy green eyes - to be a perfect blend of the two of them.
"And I was hoping that he'd have those gorgeous Teller baby blues…just like his Daddy, his big brother and his Uncle Tommy." It'd been Tara's idea to name their son after Jax's little brother, whom they'd both adored and still missed to this day. "They're blue right now but that can change over the next couple of months."
Jax lowers his head to kiss his baby's velvety soft forehead. "Did you hear that, Buddy? There's still a chance that you'll get your Mommy's pretty green eyes. Then you'll have no trouble at all gettin' chicks to drop their panties for you."
"Jackson Teller!" Bursting into laughter, Tara smacks his shoulder. "You're not turning my son into a man slut."
He blinks innocently at her. "You say that like it's a bad thing…" His teasing grin fades as he loses himself in those deep green pools. "Christ, you're so beautiful." Pressing his palm against her silky cheek, he strokes her plump pink lips with his thumb. "You sure you're okay?" For as long as he lives, he'll always regret not being there for her every day during her pregnancy, that he hadn't been with her in the hospital room holding her hand while she labored to bring their child into the world.
"I'm fine, Jax," Tara assures him, tweaking his goatee. Wrapping her arms around him and Thomas, she rests her forehead on his. "Especially now. I love you, Baby."
It seems improbable in this setting - this grim prison visiting room surrounded by killers, drug dealers and other assorted fucked-up criminals - that he could feel such soaring happiness, such exhilarated contentment. Staring into her beautiful face, he loses his sense of place and time as her warm smile melts his brain and kicks his heart into overdrive. "I love you."
After kissing her soundly, he fixes his gaze back to Thomas - living proof of his and Tara's intense love, their bond. Entranced, Jax's grin widens as the sweet baby boy gurgles and wriggles in his arms; unable to resist, he bends his head, brushing his lips across Thomas' soft cheek. "And I love you too, son."
He's going to lose his goddamn fucking mind sitting here doing shit; leaping out his chair, Jax stalks towards the door intent on combing the streets once again for that fucking gray minivan. However, the urgency in Tig's voice calling his name stops him in his tracks.
Whirling around, Jax tries to tamp down the tiny spark of hope at the tempered satisfaction on both Tig and Juice's faces. "I think we have something." Tig nudges Juice forward.
Juice glances at him nervously, pointing to his laptop. "I hacked into the DMV database and found a gray Dodge Minivan with license plate numbers that matches the partial we got…Jax, the record on file says it's a commercial vehicle for Diosa - registered to Colette Jane."
What the fuck? Stunned, Jax just gapes at him - Colette's fucking dead; a victim of a not-so-pretty dismembering in the showers at Stockton women's jail. Apparently some of the other inmates hadn't taken kindly to the fact she'd serviced some of their men. Was it possible some crazy, devoted john of hers had connected Jax to her death?
"Oh shit, Jax…You know who'd have access to her car…" Bobby voices the hideous thought that immediately slams into Jax head with the force of a baseball bat. Holy fucking shit!
Shaking with rage, Jax pulls out his phone and punches redial of an all-too-familiar number. "You goddamn piece of shit!" He barks into phone, as his call's answered on the first ring. "What the fucking hell have you done with my son?!"
"Well, well Handsome Jack, it certainly took you long enough…"