Chapter Four

Consciousness hit him in waves. He winced, daring to pry his eyes open and squeezed them shut again as soon as light hit. It didn't help that a splitting headache worked its way from the base of his neck all the way to the back of his eyes. His stomach was rolling. His throat felt like he'd just spent the whole night swallowing sandpaper.

He was hungover as fuck.

Scrubbing his face with a hand, Jax glanced over to his left to find a mess of dark hair snoring soundly next to him.

Shit.

He blew out a sigh. While he wanted to pass out in bed for as long as he could today, he preferred to do it alone. So he reached out to gently shake the girl lying next to him awake. She moaned a little, shifting in bed and giving him a good eyeful of her face. Jax winced again, choosing to give her another little shake rather than focus on anything else.

"Hey," he murmured to her.

The girl's eyes fluttered open and the second it registered just whose bed she was currently in, her lips spread apart in a lazy grin.

"Hi," she smiled, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn.

Yeah, they weren't doing this right now. Probably ever again if he could help it. With that in mind, he gave her another shake and gestured with his head toward the door - wincing at the pain that shot through his temples in the process.

"Why don't you head on out, darlin'," he murmured, punching his pillow a little as he spoke. It didn't help.

The girl's face fell in disappointment, and her lips jutted out in a pout. Maybe that had worked on him last night - he couldn't really be sure. Pieces of the night before came back in hazy flashes...he'd peeled out of the studio's parking lot on a tear, practically shaking with rage, with half a mind to turn back around and lay into her one more time for keeping the facts to herself...and all that frustration and irritation had obviously bled through the rest of his night at the clubhouse. A half a bottle of Jack later, and this was what he'd reaped.

She slipped out from under his covers, naked as the day she was born, and tiptoed around the room, gathering her clothes as she moved. As he took in her dark, shoulder-length hair and petite frame, Jax winced again.

And he sure as shit wasn't going to ruminate on that any longer than he had to.

The girl had barely gotten her jeans pulled up over her ass when a loud knock rapped on his door. Her eyes flew to him like a deer in headlights, and she rushed to get the rest of her clothes back on. Another knock echoed through the room. Well, it looked like he was going to have to wait a little bit longer to sleep the rest of the day away.

Jax tossed his legs over the side of the bed, scooped up his boxers, and pulled them on. Then he grinned at the girl, who'd just gotten herself presentable, and pulled the door open so she could make her exit.

Unfortunately for him, his mother was waiting on the other side of the door. Gemma took one hard look at the scene in front of her and cocked a dark eyebrow his way. The girl at his side had the good sense to duck around him and scamper off without as much as a word. She was the lucky one here - from the looks of things, Jax wasn't going to get off quite as easily.

Gemma folded her arms across her chest, appraising her son with cold judgment.

"Jackson."

He scrubbed both hands over his eyes and dared a look at his mother. "Yeah, Ma?"

"You have approximately two seconds to get your shit together."

Jax blew out a breath and shook his head. Nah, he wasn't doing this right now. At least not after he popped about four aspirin and slept for another eight hours or so. Maybe then they could have it out about whatever it was she was so pissed about this morning. Or was it afternoon? He wasn't sure.

"Ma," he sighed, letting his head fall back against his neck in defeat. "Can we not do this right now? I had a helluva night and -"

"Yeah," Gemma grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure looks like it."

"I'm gonna go pass out -"

Gemma huffed out a laugh, shaking her head with a pretty self-satisfied grin as she glanced down the clubhouse's hallway. "You're not gonna be doin' anything in 3, 2, 1..."

Right on cue, his wife came barreling down the clubhouse's hallway, her face scrunched up and beet-red with unfiltered rage just as Gemma stepped out of the way. He didn't have a chance to run for cover before a stiletto smacked him in the side of the head. Fuck! Goddammit, he was sick of this shit. And now, he'd probably have a nice little bump on the side of his head to add to the snowballing headache between his temples.

He pulled his hand away from his head, only to see some wet redness coloring his hand.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exhaled and glared at his wife. "Wendy, this shit has to stop."

"I have to stop?" Wendy pointed to herself exaggeratedly and then waved her hands around manically. "What were you doing last night, huh? I saw that bitch come out of your room just now, Jax. I fucking saw her!"

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm sorry you didn't show up about three minutes later then."

He knew he'd made a mistake the second the words tumbled out of his mouth, and his reward was a hard slap across the face. Maybe he deserved that just a little. Maybe part of him had even wanted it. But she was still treading on pretty fucking thin ice.

Jax watched the way her eyes darted wildly around the room, as if she was looking for more evidence of his crime, and when his gaze zeroed in on the way her fingers twitched at her sides, he grabbed her by the arm to haul her closer. He pushed up her sleeve, turning it a little too roughly to search for any trace of tracks.

Wendy tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he just bared down even tighter, this time, grabbing her other arm to run the same inspection. When he found nothing, Wendy shoved herself out of his grip and he let her stumble back against the door.

"I'm not..." she trailed off. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and maybe a year ago, he might've cared a little bit more, might've felt just a tiny bit more guilty.

"You're not what, Wendy?"

Wendy's features hardened as she glared back at him. "I'm not using again, Jax."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she spat back. "I'm sure. I went to a meeting when you didn't come home last night. I had a whole spread ready to go for you, just sitting on the table waiting for you to show up, but you couldn't even do that, could you? You couldn't be bothered to come home for once and spend some time with your wife. You were fucking some random bitch instead! So, I went to a meeting because I didn't wanna be sitting in our house all by myself anymore."

Jax took a deep breath as all that washed over him. The words were right on the tip of his tongue - he knew exactly what he wanted to say to her, what he wanted to do, but every time he almost got the nerve to pull the trigger, she went and did something like this.

The truth was, he didn't hate Wendy. He didn't want to hurt her anymore than he had to. He didn't want her to hurt herself. He just didn't love her. He didn't think he'd ever really loved her, but that was beside the point.

He wanted her out of his house and out of his life, but every time he was ready to scream in her face that he was done, a flicker of worry nagged at him. Jax knew exactly what would happen if he really pulled the trigger. And that was why he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Wendy knew it too.

And at this point, if whatever was left of this sham of marriage was enough to keep her on the wagon, then who was he to deny her that?

"Look, Wendy," he murmured, holding his hands up in defense. "I didn't know you had all that planned, okay?"

"Bullshit, Jax! I called you a million times yesterday. I texted you just as many times too. So, don't stand there and act like you didn't know. You knew I wanted you to come home last night and you chose not to anyway."

He swallowed hard, jerking both hands through his hair with a deep breath. He knew what she wanted him to say to that - I'm sorry. I want to make this work. I'll do better. I love you.

He'd given up the lies a few weeks ago and opted for deflection instead. Helluva lot of good that was doing.

So, instead, he went for the next best thing: "What do you want me to do here?"

Wendy just shook her head, her eyes watering a little, and when she looked up at him again, he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"I want you to come home. Just...please. Will you come home tonight?"

He wavered, knowing that any answer he gave her wouldn't be the right one in the long run. But given what she'd basically walked in on before, they were still married. She was still his wife. And because of that, he knew what he had to say.

Jax swallowed tightly. It wouldn't feel good, and it definitely wouldn't make him happy to say it, but he was going to do it anyway.

"Okay."

***

The Next Day

Jax took a long pull from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his nose wearily. How he'd managed to survive the last two days was probably a goddamn miracle, let alone the fact that he was even standing here on two feet and not facedown on the bed in his dorm room. Like he'd promised, he went home to Wendy the night before and had had a terse, tension-riddled dinner followed by a sleepless night in bed next to her. Even Wendy had been self-aware enough to sense the mood wasn't exactly right and hadn't pushed for anything more. Now, seeing as how she'd already texted him twice today to see when he was coming home again, he wished he'd told her no.

But at least now he was in the process of actually getting something accomplished right now.

With Opie, Chibs, and Tig out on a run, it'd been left to the remaining club members to sit tight for this meeting at the clubhouse. Juice had managed to not only get in contact with the PI in record time, but he'd also nailed him down for a meeting too. Luckily enough for them, the PI was based out of San Francisco and so it wasn't too much of an ask to get him to Charming for the initial meet-and-greet.

If the club could get this squared away, then they'd be one step closer to making progress on something. They were this close to putting an offer down on a few rows of storage units just outside of town, but they had to untangle the red tape first. Jax didn't know the first thing about inspections or any of the paperwork that it would take to get this deal off the ground - and he didn't really want to - but he also didn't appreciate that Rosen seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. It was almost as if Rosen didn't really give a shit that the club was trying to go legit, or even worse, that he didn't want them to. Jax had barely gotten him on the phone for five minutes to talk and they'd been playing phone tag with each other ever since.

His prepay buzzed inside his cut, and he had to shake his head at the irony of who just happened to be texting him right now. With a healthy mix of irritation and curiosity, Jax flipped open his prepay to read her message.

Knocked out a few more OSHA issues. Just a few left but don't anticipate any problems. All actors' contracts are back now. We should be good to roll the cameras next week.

After their initial disagreement - Allie referred to it as a "miscommunication," but he didn't exactly see it that way - about how studio business was going to be handled from now on, she'd started off by sending him an email update, quickly learned he didn't speak email, and resorted to texting him instead. At this point, Jax knew it was just a formality to keep him in the loop. She didn't need or want his help, and because she was good at her job, she would handle the issues Luann left in her wake without batting an eye.

She also continued to flatly refuse any more of the club's money for her time in straightening out Luann's tangled web. As much as it pissed him off, it just didn't sit right to know she was pulling 14 to 16-hour days to get their investment in shape to actually run a profit - Opie had wisely advised him to just leave that particular detail alone, and he'd decided to listen. If she wanted to put in those kinds of hours and refuse the extra payday, then that was on her. Pretty damn stupid, but still on her.

Good, he texted back, glancing up at the black Trans Am that pulled into T-M's parking lot. This must be the guy.

His lips quirked up at the corner of his mouth when she didn't respond. Maybe she was right - maybe it really was for the best if they just kept these exchanges to text messages. He had a feeling that if he heard her voice right now - let alone had to see her in person - he wouldn't be able to stop himself from needling and poking until she snapped.

They already had to see each other at the merger party tomorrow. And the thing was, he liked that he'd gotten under her skin two days ago. He liked that she'd been practically vibrating with fury. That had been especially entertaining. For a second there, he'd thought she might actually slap him right across the face too. But then again, Allie was nothing if not the picture of rigid professionalism and in-your-face intelligence. If she was going to slap him, she was smart enough not to do it when she was working. He might even kinda like getting slapped by her anyway.

He snapped his prepay shut and tossed it back inside his cut, pushing off the picnic table where he'd been waiting for their guest, and strode into the parking lot to greet him.

Jax didn't know a whole lot about this private investigator, and he figured the intel Juice had on this guy was enough - he kept his nose down, stayed under the radar, and got the job done. He also had plenty of experience with jobs that needed to be handled with sensitivity from what Juice had gathered. At the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

He tossed his burning cherry to the pavement and reached out to shake his hand.

"Hey," he nodded in greeting. "Jax Teller."

The private investigator had a damn firm handshake, and nodded back to him. "Tyler Harrison."

"Good to meet you. Thanks for coming down to talk to us," then Jax gestured to the clubhouse with his head. "We can head this way."

The two men easily fell into step, and Jax took those few moments to quietly appraise the club's soon-to-be hired hand. Dressed in a pair of grey suit pants, white button-up, and black tie, Tyler Harrison looked just inconspicuous enough to blend in just about anywhere, an overwhelming plus for a private investigator. He looked to be about the same age as Jax too, old enough to have had plenty of experience in his line of work, but still young enough to poke around where he needed to without drawing too much attention to himself. And with his dark coloring and athletic build, Jax figured Tyler probably drew on those traits when he needed to as well.

The club needed this guy to be their guy, to do what no one else could, and they needed him to do it quickly and efficiently.

Jax pushed through the clubhouse's doors with their soon-to-be PI right on his heels, and he gestured to a nearby booth where Bobby, Juice, Happy, and Piney were already waiting. After the obligatory introductions, they all sank into the booth and got down to business.

"Thank you again for takin' the time to meet with us," Jax told him as a prospect set a round of beers in front of them.

"No problem - feel free to call me Harrison, too. Everyone else does," he flashed them a grin, smoothing his tie down as he spoke. "And please, ignore the monkey suit. My costumes for business meetings and recon work are two different things, if you know what I mean."

That got a round of low chuckles from around the table, and Jax tipped his chin to him.

"So how is this gonna work?"

Harrison nodded, folding his hands across the table to signal that the niceties weren't necessary anymore. "It's probably for the best if you don't know exactly how I find my intel, and honestly, you don't really need to."

Jax glanced around the booth to gauge their reactions, and nodded when he found nothing but agreement.

"I looked over everything you sent me about this guy," Harrison pressed on, nodding to Juice. "This was real good work you did there, and knowing what avenues you've already taken is gonna save me significant time. Now, I'm not gonna sit here and bullshit you. Your guy might be gone. Okay? Whether he's in the ground or vanished into thin air...there's no easier way to say that."

Jax nodded grimly. Yeah, he knew that too. It was best to just get all that out of the way.

"But," Harrison continued. "I have certain methods and certain resources that afford me a little...leeway, I suppose, in the ground I can cover. I'm not gonna make any promises I can't keep, especially since I haven't started my own work on this yet, and because of that, I don't accept any payments until I've found a lead."

So this guy obviously knew what he was doing. Jax took a long pull from his beer, scanning the reactions of his brothers around the table, and saw what he already felt. They were dealing with an experienced private investigator who was good enough at his job not to take any money until he had something to show for his work...in other words, he would find them a lead because he wanted to get paid.

"Fair enough," Jax lifted his chin in agreement.

"Alright," Harrison nodded and blew out a deep breath. "I'll go to work on this. You can expect weekly updates, if not more, depending on how the investigation goes. If and when I get a hit on something, I'll let you know as soon as I work out exactly what it is and verify that it's legit."

"And how do we get the intel?" Juice asked from across the booth.

"When I've got something, I'll drive it down to you. I don't think any of us at this table want a paper trail, and I'd rather bring it to you in person so I can explain what it is and answer your questions."

Jax grinned good-naturedly. "And so you can get paid in person too."

Harrison tossed him back an easy smile. "Yeah, that too. It is a business, you know? But I don't take your trust or your money lightly," he glanced around the clubhouse warily, "I know who you are. I've done my background checks, my due diligence that way, and I understand what your expectations are here. Whatever you need this intel for...that's none of my business and none of my concern."

Jax found himself nodding in agreement before he even had a chance to glance around the booth. They'd all already made up their minds anyway. This was the only path forward and the only real option they had left.

He reached inside his cut for his cigarettes, pulled one out, and lit it. Jax waited just long enough for the hit of nicotine to course through him, and then he nodded.

"We're good with movin' forward on this. How long you willin' to do the work?"

Harrison just lifted a shoulder. "I work for you, so I'll work as long as you want me to. Of course, if the work leads me to a gravesite, that's a different story, but I'm in as long as you are."

"Alright," Jax lifted a shoulder and then reached out a hand. "Let's get this done."

They shook hands, and then Harrison shook the rest of his brothers' hands to seal the deal. As they pushed out of the booth, Harrison's eyes widened a little at the sight of the three croweaters who'd gathered by the bar, clearly waiting for club business to end so they could pounce.

Of course, the only clothing they were wearing barely covered all the important parts, and for someone who maybe wasn't quite as used to this environment as he wanted to let on, the clubhouse could be a lot to take in all at once.

"Shit," Harrison muttered under his breath, jerking a thumb in the girls' direction. "You guys are just rollin' in the pussy around here, aren't you?"

Even Happy cracked a smile at that. Jax clapped a hand on Harrison's shoulder with a laugh.

"Tell ya want, bro," Jax told him as he brought his cigarette to his lips. "You find our guy," he gestured to the girls who'd gathered around the bar, "and you can have any girl in here ya want."

Harrison huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Maybe I'll take you up on that."

"Maybe you should."

They shook hands one last time before Harrison shot him a mock-salute, signalling he was off to work, and then he walked out of the clubhouse. Jax's eyes followed him as he left, reveling in the feeling that bubbled up inside him.

Hope was a strange thing. It could be as fleeting as it was inspiring, as dangerous as it was shrewd.

After all, you could shit in one hand and hope in the other to see which hand filled up faster. And Jax knew better than to expect everything to turn out the way he wanted it to. The life had taught him that. The deaths of both club presidents before him had taught him that too.

But he had to believe this was a turning point for the club. That once the dust settled and Darby was in the ground where he belonged, the club would move on and it would prosper anew.

He hoped.

***

By the time Jax needed to make the call - whether he was going home to Wendy or staying in the safety of the clubhouse - he decided not to decide. Instead, he opted to take the night off from all that and headed to Gemma's house. Maybe if he was lucky, and really nice to her, she would cook him dinner. And maybe if he was really lucky, she'd let him crash in his old bedroom.

Wishful thinking, but a guy could hope. He'd been doing a lot of that today and figured he might as well ride it out.

Jax used his key to open the side door through Gemma's kitchen, finding nothing but silence in the room and some dirty dishes in the sink. Gemma prided herself on keeping a clean house, so that wasn't exactly the norm, but she had to cut herself some slack right now too. She'd just lost her second husband in the worst possible way - there was no goodbye, no last words, no last embrace. Just a dead body to pick up from the morgue.

"Ma?" he called out in the silence.

Familiar worry crept into the back of his throat, and he tapped two fingers on the Glock inside his cut, waiting on the ready in case he needed it.

It was just too quiet in this house.

He eased his way through the kitchen, careful to make too much noise in case there was something - or someone - inside this house that needed to be dealt with. Now, he slipped the Glock out of his holster and gripped it with both hands, keeping it low and steady.

Jax crept down the hallway, glancing inside each room as he passed, and stopped at the threshold of Gemma and Clay's bedroom. His mother was crouched inside their closet in defeat, clutching a white T-shirt to her chest as if her life depended on it. Even from across the room, he could hear her soft cries bounce off the walls.

"Ma?"

Gemma's head whipped around in surprise, and she started a little like she'd just had a heart attack. "Jesus, Jackson! You scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," he smiled sadly. When her eyes dropped to the Glock in his hand, he carefully slipped it back inside his cut. "It was a little too quiet in here."

She nodded in understanding. She knew just as well as he did that there were certain risks involved with the life they lived. And, given that she was the wife of two former presidents and the mother of the current one, Gemma would always have a target on her back and they knew it.

"I'm alright, Jax," she sighed. "I appreciate the gesture, I guess."

Jax leaned against the doorway, careful to give her space, but also needing her to see he wasn't leaving. "You sure you're alright?"

Gemma swallowed tightly, quickly wiping away the tears that had tracked down her face, and she sniffed in defiance. Damn those tears, she'd say. Doesn't do anybody any good.

He smiled a little, in spite of everything, and decided to press his luck by pushing off the doorway to meet her in the closet. Jax sank to his knees and gently pried the Samcro T-shirt from her fingertips.

"I was..." Gemma started shakily. She took a deep breath to regain her bearings, and when she spoke again, her voice was steadier and smoother than before. "I thought it was maybe time to start packing some of his clothes away. See if you or any of the guys wanted anything...I just..." her voice broke again, and he gently pressed a hand to her shoulder to remind her he was still there. "I never thought I'd have to do this again, you know? Packing away another husband's clothes...another empty bed, another empty house. I don't know if I can survive it a second time, Jax."

"You can," Jax reassured her gently, moving his hand to her cheek. "You will. You're the strongest woman I've ever met. There's nothing you can't handle and nothing you can't survive."

Gemma huffed out a laugh and her hand shot out to wipe away another stray tear. "I'm glad one of us has faith in me."

"I've never doubted you before," he grinned at her. "Why would I start now?"

That got him another laugh, and he squeezed her shoulder supportively.

"You know," he pressed on softly. "You don't have to do this right now if you're not ready. You can let his clothes and his things sit in this house for as long as you want them to. And when you are ready, you gimme a call and we'll do it together."

Gemma pushed out a haggard breath, her eyes still lingering on the hangers filled with her dead husband's clothes, and then she finally nodded.

"We're gonna get him," Jax continued. Maybe it was too early to do this, but he had to give her something. "We made moves today to get a private investigator involved and this guy...he's the best, Ma. He'll find Darby," Gemma's eyes closed at the mention of that name, "and then we'll go to wherever he is and we'll kill him. I'll kill him. He will answer for this with his life, Gemma. I promise you that."

She swallowed back another round of tears, finally letting herself fall into his arms. She had to let go eventually, to find some way to move on, and Jax knew there was no way she could do that as long as Darby was still breathing.

"Will you stay, Jax? I don't wanna be alone in this house right now."

"Ma, I'll stay as long as you need me to."

Gemma huffed out a laugh, pushing out of his arms a little to shove him in the shoulder. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? I'm not gonna make it that easy for you, Jackson. Not after the shit that went down yesterday."

Jax pushed out a long sigh. She was right - she always was. At this point, he'd take one night away from everything else as the gift it was. Gemma's fingertips brushed along his chin to pull his gaze to her.

"Look, Jax," she told him, her dark eyes serious with finality. "I'm only gonna say this to you one more time, and then I'm gonna stay out of this shit as much as humanly possible."

He pulled his gaze away in defense, not wanting to go there right now, but Gemma just gripped his chin tighter to hold him in place and to force him to hear her.

"You're not doin' her any favors by pullin' this shit. You're just making it worse. Sooner or later, she's gonna walk in on you with some croweater one too many times and that's gonna send her over the edge. I know you don't want that, and I know that's why you haven't cut ties with her yet, but baby, you are not helping her right now."

Jax swallowed hard, and Gemma didn't give an inch.

"You're not happy, Jax. You can't be happy this way. And there's no way Wendy is happy this way either. What you two are doin' is no marriage. It's fucking stupid is what it is. So you either need to figure out if there's anything there worth saving or you need to do yourself a favor and end this before it gets worse...but judging by the way you're looking at me now, I don't think there's anything left to save, is there?"

He looked away for a long moment, and finally, shook his head.

"You know Wendy's not gonna be the one to cut the cord. You're gonna have to be the one that does it. You can still support her. You can still try to be there for her, if that's what you really wanna do. But that does not mean you still have to be married to her."

"But if she -"

"If she starts using again," Gemma told him gently, but firmly. "That's not on you. That's on her. You can't control her. You can drive her to rehab yourself if you want, but you are not the responsible party if she decides to ruin her life again. And you can't let her bring you down with her."

He had to look away again. He knew all this already, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

"Look, Jax. I know you care about her. I know you don't want to see her back in rehab. But, baby, you don't love her."

Jax sucked in a shaky breath. He really hated that she was always right all the time.

"Now that you've got the gavel, there's nothing wrong with really settling down and planting some roots. You can't do that if you're still tied to Wendy, baby. You should be free to do what's right for you, to live your own life and find some damn happiness. And if you don't love her, you have no business bein' married to her."

Then she held up her hands with a grin. "There. I said my peace. Consider me officially tapping out."

"Sure you are," Jax huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Hey!" she smacked him on the shoulder. "I am sick and tired of having to take her whiny calls at the office when you're too chickenshit to answer."

"Alright, alright. I hear ya. I'll..." Jax trailed off, teetering a little between a full-out admission and full-on copout. "I'll do somethin'. I will."

Gemma pressed a tired smile on her face and rested a hand on his cheek. "Okay, baby. Now, you hungry?"