Chapter 5 - The Ultimatum
Jax stared at the glowing screen, his thumb hovering over the decline button while the harsh fluorescent lights of the diner hummed overhead. The text message burned into his retinas, a clear and present danger sitting right outside in that idling sedan. He looked back up at Leo, who remained entirely unaware of the digital threat, instead focusing his innocent hazel eyes on the old photograph resting between them on the counter.
“Who is it?” Sarah asked, noticing the stark change in Jax’s posture. She leaned over the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of the phone, but Jax shoved the device back into his vest pocket with practiced roughness.
“Nobody,” Jax lied, his voice flat and defensive. He grabbed the faded photograph off the wood and slipped it carefully into an inner pocket of his vest, right next to his heart. “Just bill collector spam.”
“That wasn't spam, Jax,” Sarah countered sharply, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her apron. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Or worse, like someone just put a bounty on your head. And seeing as Brick was in here five minutes ago threatening to skin you alive, I suggest you start talking straight.”
Leo looked between the two adults, his small brow furrowed in confusion. “We gotta go find Mom,” he insisted, tugging gently on the hem of Jax’s heavy leather vest. “The bus back leaves at five o'clock. If we miss it, we gotta sleep in the station again.”
Jax looked down at the boy. The thought of this frail, exhausted child sleeping on a hard plastic bench in a freezing bus terminal while mysterious men in suits tracked his every move made something snap inside the older biker. The cowardice that had driven him away eighteen years ago evaporated, replaced by a cold, hardened resolve.
“You ain't taking no bus back, Leo,” Jax said, his voice dropping into a gravelly commander tone. He looked up at Sarah. “Keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. If anyone asks, you ain't seen me, you ain't seen the kid, and you don't know nothing about Oakhaven.”
“Jax, wait a minute!” Sarah hissed, stepping around the end of the counter to block his path. “You can't just run out into a parking lot full of patched-up outlaws and some mysterious suit in a sedan! What are you planning to do?”
“What I should have done eighteen years ago,” Jax replied grimly.
Without another word, Jax pushed past her, his heavy leather boots thudding against the floor as he headed straight for the front exit.
He didn't hesitate as he pushed the glass door open and stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun, walking directly toward the dark blue sedan idling by the edge of the gravel lot. The tinted window of the driver's side slowly rolled down with a soft mechanical hum, revealing a man wearing dark sunglasses and a neat silver tie, smiling coldly as Jax approached.
“Mr. Jax,” the man in the suit said smoothly, resting a gloved hand on the steering wheel. “I’m glad you got my message. We need to talk about what’s in that boy’s pocket.”
Jax stopped three feet from the driver’s side door, planting his heavy boots in the dust and crossing his arms over his patched leather vest.
“Talk fast,” Jax growled, his eyes scanning the rear-view mirror to see if anyone else was in the car.
“It’s not about talking, Jax,” the man replied, pressing a button that popped open the glove compartment to reveal a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills and a silver pistol. “It’s about making a choice. You walk away now, and the boy gets a nice quiet life in foster care. You stay involved, and neither of you sees tomorrow sunrise.”
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Before Jax could answer, a heavy hand slammed down onto his shoulder from behind, and a familiar voice whispered directly into his ear.
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