4. Jax
Chapter four
Jax
J ax rubbed his sore eyes, the endless glow of the screen finally taking its toll. He glanced down at the fake ID and strip club pass he had crafted with his own skilled hands. It was a necessary evil, one that would get him closer to Mia.
He couldn't shake the memory of their last conversation, his frustration mounting as he recalled how he must have sounded creepy and suspicious. “Are these chats monitored?” Jesus. Talk about subtle.
Jax wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but he knew he had to do better—for her sake. That's why he decided to take matters into his own hands, faking a member recommendation by stealing the details of another user from the webcam chat.
"Damn it, Jax," he muttered under his breath. "You really screwed up this time."
As he sat there, replaying their conversation in his head, Jax couldn't help but feel the weight of guilt. If only he had been smoother, less awkward. But there was no use dwelling on the past. He had a plan now, one that would bring him face-to-face with the woman who had captured his interest like no other.
"Alright," he whispered, steeling himself. "Time to put this plan into action."
His fingers tapped nervously against the cold metal of his laptop, the keys clicking softly beneath his touch. Despite his confidence in his hacking abilities, Jax felt anxious. What if she didn't trust him again?
"Focus," he ordered himself. "She needs you."
Jax felt a strange possessiveness toward Mia, even though they had never met in person. This poor soul, who loved books so much, who was so sensitive and bright. The thought of her in that strip club, surrounded by leering men, made his blood boil. He needed to be there to protect her, and to show her that someone cared.
With a sigh, he shut down his laptop and pocketed the fake ID and pass. There was no turning back now. He had to take action, to prove himself to Mia—not as the creepy man with “nice-guy syndrome” from the chat room, but as a man who genuinely wanted to help her.
"Jax," he whispered to himself, "you better not screw this up."
Jax pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a black tee, his attire carefully chosen to blend into the seedy crowd he expected to encounter. He left his apartment, the cold Chicago air biting at his skin as he made his way through the city's dark underbelly.
"Easy Gals Strip Club" was tucked away in a grimy back alley, hidden from view by overflowing dumpsters and broken streetlights. The neon sign flickered ominously, casting an eerie glow over the entrance. Jax took note of the security cameras perched high above the building and wondered what sort of operation required such precaution.
"ID and pass," a deep voice demanded, dragging Jax's attention to the burly bouncer blocking the door. Chad, his name tag read. He looked like the kind of thug who gave thugs a bad name. Missing teeth, cauliflower ears, spit collecting in the corners of his mouth. His breath smelled of stale beer. He hoped this guy never touched or hurt Mia.
"Uh, sure," Jax replied, pulling out his fake ID and member recommendation. His fingers felt clumsy as he handed them over, hoping his nerves wouldn't give him away.
Chad inspected the documents with narrowed eyes, his meaty fingers dwarfing the thin pieces of plastic. Jax held his breath, trying to appear nonchalant even though his heart raced. After what felt like an eternity, Chad grunted and returned the items, jerking his head towards the entrance.
"Go on in."
"Thanks," Jax muttered, stepping inside as a wave of stale cigarette smoke and blaring music assaulted his senses.
The interior of the club was a chaos of garish colors, pulsating lights, and pounding music. Jax scanned the room, his gaze falling on a stage bathed in a seductive red glow. There, amidst a sea of leering eyes, he saw Mia.
She was wearing black lacy underwear. Her movements were fluid, and controlled, each sway of her hips and arch of her back a testament to her strength and resilience.
Jax ordered a drink from a passing waitress, his focus never wavering from Mia. He tried not to look at her body but he couldn’t help it. She was so thin. So unhealthy-looking for such a young, vibrant woman. And yet so beautiful at the same time. She had a radiance that shone out of her in spite of everything.
He couldn't help but notice her occasional curious glances in his direction. Clearly, he didn't fit the profile of the average attendee.
"Here's your drink," the waitress said, placing his JD and coke on the table before sashaying away. Jax barely acknowledged her, his attention fixed on Mia.
As he watched others approach Mia and slip money into her underwear, a surge of possessiveness gripped him—an unfamiliar sensation that left him feeling almost jealous. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, knowing he needed to put his plan into action.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, disgusted with himself for having to do this. He caught her eye and held up a folded bill between his fingers, beckoning her over, trying to mask the unease swirling within him. He felt sick having to do this, but it was the only way.
Mia sauntered toward him, her eyes locked onto his as she closed the distance. She leaned in, allowing him access to tuck the money beneath the delicate lace of her bra. His fingers brushed against her warm skin, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Thanks, handsome," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. Jax nodded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact even as his mind raced with doubts and fears. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, but first, he needed her to trust him.
"Listen, Mia," Jax whispered urgently as he leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "I'm Fred from the chat room. My real name is Jax. I want to help you, set you free."
Mia's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't say anything. The music blared around them, drowning out the significance of their exchange.
"Check the money carefully," he instructed, his voice barely audible above the pounding bass. "There's a hidden message."
A flicker of confusion crossed her face, but she nodded slightly before pulling away from him. Jax watched as she moved on to another client, her hips swaying seductively to the rhythm of the music. He knew he'd taken a risk by revealing himself to her, but it was one he had to take.
As he sipped his drink, he couldn't help but replay their brief conversation in his mind. Would she trust him enough to follow his instructions? Or had he just made things worse for both of them?
Jax clenched his fists under the table, the glass threatening to shatter beneath his grip. The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious.
"Get it together," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. His gaze followed Mia as she danced and flirted with the other patrons, each touch and caress making his blood boil.
"Easy, Jax," he told himself, trying to quell the possessive feelings that surged within him. This wasn't about jealousy—it was about getting Mia out of this hellhole and back to safety. Besides, Jax was a Daddy Dom and Mia was most likely not a Little. It’s not like the two of them could be together even if he wanted it.
He glanced around the dimly lit club, taking in the sticky floors and the acrid scent of sweat mingling with cheap cologne. Every time someone came near him, his muscles tensed, ready to snap into action if necessary.
With every beat of the pounding music, Jax felt his desire to protect Mia intensify. He watched her from the shadows, discreetly nursing his drink as he watched over her.
A man approached her, and Jax's grip tightened around the glass, his knuckles turning white.
"Hey, gorgeous," the man slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol as he ran a hand through Mia's hair.
"Hi there," Mia replied, flashing him a forced smile that made Jax's heartache. She was so close yet so far, and all he wanted was to whisk her away from this grimy place.
"Man, I'd love to take you home with me," the drunk patron leered, attempting to pull Mia closer.
Jax fought the urge to intervene, reminding himself that he needed to blend in, to be invisible.
"Sorry, handsome," Mia said, gently pushing the man away. "I'm just here to dance."
"Come on, baby, don't be like that," the man whined, but Mia shook her head and gracefully moved away, leaving her admirer pouting in disappointment.
"Good girl," Jax thought, exhaling slowly as he watched her escape.
"Hey, you," called a sultry voice, snapping Jax out of his thoughts. A dancer sidled up to him, her hips swaying seductively as she attempted to catch his interest. She was blond and young and had sleepy eyes. Were all the women on drugs here? Probably. Probably helped them get through their damn shifts. "You look lonely over here."
"Uh, no thanks, I’m fine," Jax replied tersely, trying to keep his focus on Mia. He didn't want any distractions—not now when the stakes were so high.
"Suit yourself," the dancer purred, sauntering away in search of more receptive prey.
Jax remained vigilant, his eyes never leaving Mia as she finished her performance. By the end of the night, she was completely naked, but he wasn’t looking at her body. It wasn’t his to look at. Instead, his eyes were fixed on hers. He wanted to see everything those eyes saw, to understand what kept her here, and how he could help her out.
He stayed until the very end of Mia’s shift, watching over her like a silent guardian. As the red light above the stage flickered on, Mia slipped off the stage and disappeared behind the curtains.
"Time to go," Jax murmured under his breath, downing the remainder of his drink before making his way toward the exit. A nauseating sense of anxiety churned in his gut as he passed Chad, the burly bouncer who'd allowed him entry earlier.
"Remember, sweetheart, call me Daddy," Chad sneered at Mia as she brushed past him, clearly used to the demeaning command.
Jax's blood boiled at the sound of those words, but he kept walking, clenching his fists to keep from decking the brute.
Call me Daddy?
That guy wasn’t a Daddy Dom. Not even close. He was a bully. An asshole. He wasn’t there to protect or nurture, but to scare, to squash.
Outside, the cool night air hit Jax like a splash of cold water, clearing his head as he took a deep breath. "Please, Mia," he thought, his heart pounding with hope and desperation. "Find the message. Trust me."
With each step he took away from the sleazy club, the tension grew thicker, as though an unseen force were tightening a noose around his neck.
But for now, all he had was hope and a hidden message, a fragile lifeline in an unforgiving world.