He retrieved an image of Marsh from his mind. He hadn’t had the time to study him during the short exchange, but he could picture the man’s face clearly now. It was the face of a fighter. Nose broken at least three times and never properly reset, skin pockmarked with scars, cauliflower ears – Marsh wore his violent history on his head. Jax paid close attention to the scars, all different colours, suggesting they had been sustained in not one incident, but over many years. In many fights.

Jax had only ever had two fights, and not in dark alleys or in nightclubs, but in the schoolyard as a boy. And neither of his opponents had been anything like Marsh. Jax decided to look up as soon as he thought it was safe. Compelled to continue scanning for threats, to assess this foreign, frightening world, he dragged his eyes from the floor. He was counting on Marsh having lost interest in him. But as soon as Jax lifted his head, Marsh smiled.

And then he winked.

JAX’s mind raced as the bus slowed at the second gate. He couldn’t be got at. Not yet. Not while he was locked in his one-man cage on the armour-plated bus. It was later he was worried about. When he was alone.

He recalled the conversation he’d had with his defence lawyer after they’d learned his sentence would be served in Long Bay. Still thinking about Nikki and her spine-tingling gasp, Jax had been distracted but he’d nevertheless taken in what was said. He closed his eyes briefly and the man’s words of caution echoed in his mind.

‘It’s a tough break, Jax,’ his lawyer had said, his voice grave. ‘I was certain you’d end up on a farm. Somewhere like Lithgow. Not a maximum-security prison. Certainly not Long Bay. There’s no sugar-coating it, Long Bay is a nightmare. They’ll tear you apart, a young clean-cut guy like you. You’re going to have to ask for protection. Are you listening? I’m trying to save your life. You are going to have to tell them you are scared, that you can’t defend yourself. Tell them you have enemies. Tell them that and they’ll have to put you into protective custody. And you’ll need it – it’s the only way you’ll survive.’

He’d levelled with Jax because he felt bad. With Jax insistent on entering a guilty plea, the lawyer had only one objective: a minimal sentence in a low-security jail. And he’d failed.