Jax was sitting and drinking a cup of bad coffee when King and Noah showed up the next morning. Annie was still sleeping on the sofa, curled up under Jax’s leather jacket, and Mac was down the hall talking to Doctor Innis. Jax had tried to get some sleep, but he’d failed miserably. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Sarah’s wrecked face, her broken body, and he felt a kind of rage that he hadn’t known in fourteen years.
Jesus Christ… when I get my hands on that fucker, he’s dead.
“Jax, Jax, Jax!”
“Hey, Noah. How was it this morning with King?”
“He’s very good at breakfast. He was perfect.”
“Was he?” Jax grinned at the thought of King pouring juice into a colorful plastic cup. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“How are things here?” King asked.
“Don’t know.” Jax nodded at Ma
