Jax pointed his chin behind Jim. “Passed out again. I put her in the room she’s been staying in. Come on, this way.”
Jim followed Jax down the hallway, past several closed doors. Jim knew what went on in these back rooms, or crash rooms, as they were fondly called. Each one had a bed, a sofa, some tables, and an attached bathroom.
They were open to any bar patron who wanted to use them, and when he’d first moved to Denver three years earlier, so full of rage and hatred about his time in Afghanistan, Jim had taken advantage of these rooms. More than once, with more than one woman. He didn’t do that now – though he sure as hell hadn’t stopped the one-nighters. He just had them at his place now. Somehow, that felt like progress to him.
“You said she’s been staying here full-time?” Jim sai
