Chapter 27
T he property stretches wide and quiet around us as we walk toward the barn. The house is a distant silhouette behind us, and up ahead, the barn—more like a large, nondescript metal building—blends into the landscape. It looks about as inviting as a low-budget horror movie set, and I can't stop imagining body parts being severed by machetes inside.
Jax, however, looks completely at ease, walking beside me like we’re just taking a stroll. His hand brushes mine occasionally, and I try not to focus too much on how calm he is while I’m fighting off images of past massacres that have likely taken place here.
"This place is beautiful," I comment, scanning the vast expanse. "If you don’t think about the number of people who might have been murdered here at some point."
Jax laughs, his grin lighting up the otherwise dark atmosphere. "Trust me, Peach, no one's died here recently. Just a lot of very interesting conversations."
Recently. I narrow my eyes, skeptical. "Oh, I’m sure. ‘Interesting conversations’ while the body bags are getting zipped up and the lawn’s getting hosed down." I nudge him with my shoulder, poking at his side where I know he’s ticklish. "If I find a dismembered body in there, I'm punching you."
"Baby, you know you can be rougher with me than that," he winks.
I roll my eyes, but the tension breaks with a playful laugh. "What’s that?" I nod toward the black case in his hand. "Some kind of secret weapon?"
"You’ll see," he teases, clearly enjoying my curiosity.
I glance up at him, trying to keep my tone casual despite my nerves. "So, what exactly is your role in this whole mafia thing? I know you're Enzo's right-hand man, but what does that actually mean?"
Jax swings our hands as we walk, acting like we’re heading to a picnic instead of a barn that could be hiding God knows what. "I’m the fixer, the cleaner. Whatever needs to be done, I plan it, set it up, and if it goes wrong, I clean it up. No trace, no evidence. I make sure no one gets caught." He says it so casually, like it’s just a job—not a life-or-death thing.
"Wait." I pause, curiosity taking over. "So, if you’re the world’s best cleaner, and you've been fixing all these jobs... how’d you end up charged with murder?"
Jax's smile fades, a flash of seriousness crossing his face as he pulls us to a stop. "We all have something tied up in this, Peach. We protect you, and someone comes after us. I’ve killed people, but I didn’t do what they said. I was framed."
I gasp. "So, how did you get released?"
Jax smiles. "You really need to stop underestimating Luca." He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Luca owed me a favor. I called it in to protect you."
I press my lips into a thin line.
"Come on." We resume our trek to the murder-barn, and he continues. "Later, Luca figured out it was a setup. He hacked the prison records, put in a transfer for me, and altered my charges to accessory to burglary. When I got to the new place, my release was six months later."
He looks at me seriously, his voice low. "I sure as hell wouldn’t have done anything to risk being taken away from you. So, someone did it for me. That’s what I’m after—finding the asshole who tried to bury me in a cell for the rest of our life together."
I feel the sincerity in his words, a warmth spreading through me. I reach up, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "I believe you. You do what you do because you’re good at it. And it keeps you, Luca, and Enzo safe."
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his voice teasing again. "What we do is in the name of our goddess, Delaney Caputo."
I smile against his lips. "You shameless flirt." We’re nearly at the barn, but my questions keep coming. “What about Enzo and Luca? You said all of you have something in this.”
“Someone is going after Enzo’s business, his properties—snagging land purchases out from under him. He’s lost millions. It’s a territory grab but without the bloodshed.” Jesus. “Luca needs to find that last piece of the puzzle that has eluded him. He’s chased a shadow for six years. He needs this. He needs it to come to an end.”
So, that’s it. Jax was framed. Enzo’s territory is being invaded, and Luca is taunted by a mystery. The investment they have in this goes deeper than just me.
Jax pulls me back from my thoughts with a kiss to the back of my hand and gestures toward the barn. "Ready to see the magic?"
I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. "Ready as I’ll ever be."
Jax opens the door smoothly, and the cold air from inside hits us. The unknown is waiting just beyond the threshold, but I’m not backing down now.
"After you, princess."
I look at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. "If there’s even a hint of blood in there, I’m blaming you for my mental trauma."
Jax just grins back, and I feel the spark between us flicker again. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."
We step into the barn, and I take in my surroundings, half-expecting a blood-splattered scene straight out of a horror movie. Instead, it’s more like a storage space where you’d park an RV for the winter—nothing ominous about it at all. The shelves are stacked with random tools, cans of motor oil, and a pile of old blankets. If I don’t think about it, it could just be a regular garage.
Jax, on the other hand, doesn’t seem fazed at all. He strolls in, his hand brushing mine casually, while I’m stuck picturing a crime scene.
I raise an eyebrow. “So, where’s the blood and the bodies hanging from meat hooks?” I look around like I’ll find them tucked behind a stack of boxes.
Jax grins, stepping up behind me and getting close enough to drop his voice in a creepy way. “Oh, those are far below ground,” he whispers, leaning in like he’s sharing a dark secret. “Where no one can hear their screams.” He even shudders exaggeratedly, and I feel a chill run down my spine.
For a second, I can’t tell if he’s joking. I mean, it’s Jax—he can’t possibly be serious, right? But the idea of a subterranean torture chamber flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but shudder. Maybe he’s not entirely joking.
I eye him suspiciously. “I’m not sure if you’re joking or if you’re really about to drag me into a creepy hole in the ground.” I cross my arms over my chest, half-expecting him to break into laughter.
Jax, ever the smooth talker, just keeps grinning. “I’d never let you go down there alone. It’s more of a two-person gig.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re a sick bastard, Jax. I bet you love seeing me squirm.”
“Only when it’s fun,” he says with a wink, completely unapologetic.
I look around again, processing what he’s said. It’s a lot less creepy than I imagined, but I still picture some poor soul tied up in here, getting tortured while Jax casually munches on a sandwich.
“Alright, no more creepy basement torture talk, Jax. You might actually convince me you’re a psychopath. You’d ruin that cute smile of yours.”
Jax flashes a grin. “I’m your psychopath, Peach.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smirking back at him. This guy never takes anything seriously.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, Jax opens a cabinet door and reveals a hidden button. The shelf behind it rises with a smooth whirring sound, exposing a compartment beneath.
I freeze. “Holy shit. There really is a torture chamber down there, isn’t there?”
Jax laughs, unaffected. “Relax, Delaney. Nothing sinister. But you don’t leave evidence from a ‘conversation’ out in the open, do you?”
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “Just a little spot for ‘conversations.’”
I’m starting to think therapy might be on the horizon after all this.
Jax completely ignores me, a grin still on his face as he walks past the opening, inspecting the shelves of guns. He selects a few handguns, his movements smooth and practiced, like he’s done this a thousand times.
“Here,” he hands me a couple boxes of ammo as though we’re just grabbing some snacks for a movie night. “We’re going to need a lot of these.”
“Hey, I resent that,” I say, taking the boxes, trying to shake the unease in my hands. I follow him through a door, and as it closes behind us, I feel a quiet, unspoken tension.
My eyes widen in surprise as I take in the space: it’s like a legit training facility, with booths for individual shooters, targets on pulleys, and a smooth floor.
Jax steps up to one of the booths, grinning. “Yeah, not exactly what you’d find in a regular garage, huh?” He positions himself like he’s done this a million times. “Alright, time to teach you how to protect yourself.”
I walk over to a booth next to his, the weight of the ammo in my hands feeling a lot more real now. The air smells like gunpowder, and the hum of the pulleys fills the space.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I say, trying to hide my nerves with a touch of sarcasm. “How hard can it be? Point, shoot, end someone’s life. Easy peasy.”
Jax turns to me with a wicked smile. “Don’t worry, baby. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be using that gun like it’s a part of you. You won’t even remember The Spat.”
I gasp in mock offense, clutching my chest. “How dare you speak of my Spat so soon after she sacrificed herself for me.” I look upward, pretending to address the heavens. “May you rest in peace, baby girl.”
Jax rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that follows. “Let’s get going. I need to make sure you leave here ready to fight for your life.” He pats the space next to him, his eyes twinkling.
“Alright, first things first.” He picks up a sleek black handgun and holds it out for me. “This is your new best friend. Semi-automatic. If you’re going to be in this world, you need to know how to handle one.”
Jax takes his time explaining everything, showing me the parts of the gun, making sure I can point them out before moving on. He steps closer, guiding my hands through the motions of loading and unloading the gun, his attention unwavering.
I focus, trying to ignore how his gaze feels like it’s pressing against me. It’s hard not to notice how close we are, how much his warmth radiates into me.
Jax’s grin never fades as I nail the parts of the gun, one after the other. “You’re a quick study,” he says, clearly impressed.
I don’t let myself think about how good he looks when he handles the guns with such mastery.
“Good girl,” he says quietly, his deep voice vibrating the air around me.
Concentrate, Delaney. You’re learning how to be a killer. You’re definitely not hoping Jax will get you off using the barrel of one of his guns. Not at all.
Jax hands me a pair of safety goggles and earbuds. As I put them on, he steps behind me, his body close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. I try to concentrate, but his presence is hard to ignore. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the essence of gunpowder is intoxicating.
My pulse quickens when he leans in closer to adjust my stance; I swear I can feel the heat of his breath on the back of my neck.
His hands move to mine, guiding my grip on the gun. I can feel his fingers press into mine, and my body reacts before my brain can process it. I shift slightly, but Jax’s hand follows, sliding slowly over my hip. His touch sends a jolt of heat straight through me, and my skin tingles as his hand drifts toward my inner thigh.
It’s okay. We’re totally focused… on something. I forgot what. Oh, the guns. Not Jax’s hand, which is very close to my vagina.
He leans in closer, brushing my ear with his mouth as he speaks in a low, husky voice. “Good. Just like that.”
Holy fucking shit.
“Feel the gun, Delaney. Let it become an extension of you.” His wandering hand squeezes my inner thigh, his nails gently raking my skin.
My breath catches, and I bite my lip to suppress a moan. “Jax… you’re being distracting,” I whisper, though I know I’m not really complaining. Judging by his grin, he knows it too.
“I know,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing down my side, my body still humming with heat. “Do you want to play a game?” he asks, placing a kiss behind my ear. His hand moves to rest on a small black box nearby.
Jax’s games typically result in me being unable to walk from the sheer number of orgasms he gives me. But the guns make me nervous, and not knowing what’s in the box is killing me. I know he won’t tell me unless I agree.
“You know,” I say, putting the gun down and turning to face him, “there’s a splatter horror movie where the killer says that. They’re in a creepy slaughter barn too.”
His eyes gleam with a dark shine, and he raises one eyebrow, silently waiting for my answer.
“Yes, I’ll play.”
He turns me back around, his massive frame pressed against mine as he opens the black box. A grin spreads across my face when I see what’s inside.
There’s a small pink butt plug and a matching toy curved like a hook. Next to them is a little remote control. “Well, pink is your favorite color.”
“If you’re in a gunfight for your life”—he moves my hair aside and kisses my neck—“you won’t be in a quiet, still shooting range.” His right hand slips into my pants, under my soaked panties. His middle finger moves in slow circles around my clit while he continues to kiss my neck. With his left hand, he grabs a gun, quickly flicks the safety off, aims, and fires three times.
I gasp, my breath catching as his finger never loses tempo, his mouth never stops, and I can see from here that the bastard hit the center with each shot.
“Oh my god,” I pant, unsure if it’s from seeing how well he shoots or the fact that I could come in about thirty seconds.
“So, you’re going to wear these,” he says, running his finger down the edge of the black box, “and I’m going to stand over there with the remote.” He pulls a packet of lube from his pocket and places it on the counter. His hand slides under my shirt and bra, pinching and rolling my nipple with deft fingers. I moan, leaning against him and clutching the counter.
“I’m going to edge the shit out of you until you hit the center. And then I’ll let you come.”
Just as my climax begins to swell, Jax pulls his hand away. I release a shocked huff, which only makes him chuckle as he sucks his finger clean.
“Pants down, Peach. Get on all fours on the couch.” Jax rips the corner off the lube packet with his teeth, spitting it on the ground.
“Aye, aye, Capt’n,” I salute before reaching for my pants.
“We’ll see how bratty you still are when we’re done here.” He smacks my butt as I lower my pants and head for the sofa.
Oh, baby. I could keep this up all day. And he fucking knows it.
Jax places the black box on the arm of the couch in front of me and sanitizes his hands. He grabs the small plug first, hesitates briefly as he lubes it, then slides it along my center and presses it against my clit. I hear the click of a button, and the plug vibrates. I yelp, clutching the leather couch.
“Holy shit.”
He leans down to my ear as he slides the plug toward my ass. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, baby.” Jax kisses behind my ear, then focuses on easing the plug into me.
“Good girl,” he praises when it slips all the way in.
“Now, pants up and turn around.”
I comply, and Jax grabs the second toy, rubbing lube around the shaft and bulb. He holds my gaze as he reaches into my pants, sliding the shaft along my pussy before easing it in. My mouth drops open as he works it in, stealing a kiss and sucking on my bottom lip.
“I’ll make sure it’s in the right spot, okay?” he whispers, his breath tickling my lips.
I nod, and he presses one of the remote’s buttons. The pink toy comes to life, instantly putting Bob to shame.
“Oh, Jax,” I moan, clutching his broad shoulders as he moves it around, watching me for reactions. The bulb fixes on my clit, and the sucking motion nearly sends me into orbit. My loud moan echoes through the empty range.
“There she is.” Satisfied, he adjusts the intensity, making me rise onto my tiptoes as an orgasm rushes forward, then dials it down to nearly nothing.
“Asshole,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
One hour and three boxes of bullets later, we leave the warehouse. Jax slings his arm around my shoulders, and I release a satisfied sigh after earning my six glorious orgasms.