Chapter 4 – Jaxon
The club was alive with its usual electric hum, but my mind wasn’t on the music or the swirling mass of people on the floor.
My focus was locked on Sean, standing near the lounge entrance with his arms crossed, his posture stiff. He wasn’t scanning the room like usual; he was staring past it, his jaw tight and his shoulders rigid.
I’d seen that look before. It was the kind of tension you couldn’t hide — not from someone who’d been in the trenches with you. The way his jaw clenched a little too tightly, the way his eyes darted but never settled — like he was trying to ground himself but couldn’t find steady footing.
It was the same look I’d seen on guys in the field, moments before everything fell apart.
Back then, it came from someone who’d seen too much, who’d been pushed past their limit but was trying like hell to hold it together. That kind of tension didn’t just appear out of nowhere. It came from carrying too much for too long, from shoving things down until they boiled over.
I knew it well because I’d lived it. Hell, sometimes I still did. The weight of those years didn’t just disappear because you swapped a uniform for a suit.
For guys like Sean and I, adjusting to a world that didn’t require a weapon in your hand every second wasn’t as simple as people thought.
It was in the way he stood, shoulders too stiff, arms crossed like he was bracing for something to hit.
He didn’t even realise he was doing it, but I did. I’d been there.— standing guard, outwardly steady but inwardly crumbling into pieces, trying not to let anyone see the mess inside.
It worried me. Not just because we were friends, but because I’d seen what happened when guys like us fell apart. It wasn’t just a bad day or a rough week—it was a slow burn that could turn into an explosion if left unchecked.
I crossed the room and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sean.” My tone was firm but low enough not to draw attention.
He startled slightly, then forced a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Brooks. Everything good?”
“Funny,” I said dryly. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Long night, that’s all.”
“Try again,” I said, my voice sharpening.
Sean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s personal.”
I narrowed my eyes, not buying it. “You’ve been distracted. Personal doesn’t cut it, Sean. If something’s going on, I need to know. You know what this place is like — one slip, and things go sideways fast.”
He tensed under my gaze, but I could see the cracks forming. His deflection wasn’t as solid as he wanted it to be. “It’s nothing. Just… stuff. You don’t need to worry about it.”
I clenched my jaw, torn between pushing harder and backing off. Sean wasn’t just a coworker — he was my friend. My brother, in a way. We’d seen the worst of what the world had to offer. I’d pulled strings to get him this job because I trusted him, because I wanted to believe he could find his footing here.
The easy-going, dependable Sean I knew wasn’t standing in front of me tonight. And while I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, the knot in my gut told me not to let this go.
I lowered my voice. “You’re sure this won’t affect your work?”
He met my eyes, his expression hardening. “I said I’m handling it.”
I held his gaze for a long moment before nodding, though the unease didn’t leave me. “Fine. But if it becomes a problem, you come to me first. Understood?”
Sean nodded, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “Understood.”
I watched him walk away, tension radiating off him in waves. Whatever he was dealing with, it wasn’t “nothing.” And if he wasn’t careful, it was going to land him — and the club — in trouble.
As he reached the end of the hallway, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder like he thought someone might be watching, before pulling it out and answering it in a low voice.
I couldn’t make out the words, but his posture shifted, his shoulders hunching as he turned his back to me. The conversation was short, his tone sharp and clipped before he ended the call abruptly, slipping the phone back into his pocket like it had burned him.
This club didn’t tolerate mistakes. Not the kind Sean might make if he let whatever was eating at him spiral out of control. Club V thrived on its pristine image, its carefully curated illusion of glamour and exclusivity.
Behind the scenes, though, it was a house of cards. One wrong move, one slip, and the whole thing could collapse.
I ran a hand over my face, frustration prickling at the back of my mind. I didn’t want to push him too hard — not yet.
Sean was a proud guy, the kind who wouldn’t take well to someone prying into his business. But loyalty ran deep with me, and I wasn’t about to let him self-destruct, not when I’d fought so hard to give him a shot.
If he didn’t get his head straight, it wasn’t just him who’d pay the price. This wasn’t the field anymore, where the worst-case scenario was staring down the barrel of a gun.
Here, the consequences were quieter. If Sean’s mess spilled over into the club, it wouldn’t be just his job on the line — it would be mine too.
More than that, I didn’t want to see him go down. Not after everything we’d been through. I just hoped he’d figure it out before it was too late.
The thrum of the club was constant, the low bassline reverberating through the marble floors as patrons floated between the bar and the lounge, their laughter and conversation blending into a haze of sound. I’d just finished a sweep of the VIP section, making sure everything was running smoothly, when I spotted her again.
Scout.
Madeline Hart. She was back, slipping through the crowd with that same unshakable confidence that grated on my nerves. Most people who didn’t belong here gave themselves away — hesitant steps, wide eyes, too much attention drawn to the wrong things.
Not her.
She moved like she’d been born into this world, like the noise and the glitz were as natural to her as breathing.
I knew better.
Her eyes darted too quickly, scanning the room like she was cataloguing every detail. She wasn’t trying to blend in. She was trying to figure something out. And that made her interesting enough that I couldn’t ignore her.
I leaned against the bar, watching her from a distance. She wore another sleek black dress tonight, understated but tailored perfectly, as if she knew how to walk the line between elegant and forgettable.
Except she wasn’t forgettable. Not to me.
My eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail — the curve of her hips as she moved effortlessly through the crowd, the way the hem of her dress skimmed just above her knees, exposing long, toned legs that seemed to go on forever. The neckline of her dress dipped low enough to tease but not enough to give anything away, and somehow, that only made it worse.
She was composed, perfectly put together, and yet there was something almost unpolished about her — something I couldn’t quite define.
Her hair was loose again tonight, waves tumbling over her shoulders, and I caught myself imagining what it would feel like to thread my fingers through it before I shoved the thought away, irritated at myself.
Her confidence only made things even more intolerable. She didn’t stumble or hesitate, her steps purposeful and fluid, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Maybe she did. That self-assuredness was like a beacon, drawing eyes to her without her even trying.
It pissed me off how easily she got under my skin.
I shouldn’t have been noticing her, not like this, but I couldn’t help it. My gaze lingered on the delicate line of her neck, on the faint shimmer of a gold necklace that lay against her skin.
My thoughts wandered somewhere they had no business going, imagining that same necklace tugged slightly out of place, my fingers resting just beneath the hollow of her throat, feeling the flutter of her pulse against my skin. Her head tilted back, lips parted — not in fear, but in something else entirely. Something that made my breath catch for a fraction of a second before I shoved the thought away, furious at myself for letting it take root.
I clenched my jaw tighter. This wasn’t me. I didn’t lose focus, didn’t let myself get distracted. Especially not by a woman like her.
The thing was, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked at someone the way I looked at Madeline. That pull, that instinctive urge to be near her — it wasn’t just unfamiliar. It was unsettling.
Of course, my sex life wasn’t non-existent. Women noticed me, and I noticed them. It wasn’t hard to find company for a night when you were in your early thirties, fit, and carrying just enough charm to get by. Hell, at V, it was practically served on a silver platter.
That’s all it ever was, though. Attention, flirtation, the occasional hookup to scratch an itch. It wasn’t connection, not the kind that lingered beyond the moment. I didn’t want it. Not after coming out of service, where relationships were as fleeting as your next assignment and just as fragile.
Risks in my world could get people hurt. So I didn’t care for the strings, didn’t care for the vulnerability that came with letting someone get too close.
Her face flashed in my mind — those hazel eyes that could be so sharp one moment and so soft the next, the way her smile could light up a room without even trying.
Madeline wasn’t just a woman, was she?
She was a complication I didn’t need, and yet I couldn’t stop replaying the idea of her stepping closer, tilting her head back, meeting my gaze with those sharp, knowing eyes. Eyes that dared me to lose it completely.
My cock involuntarily twitched at the mere thought.
I clenched my fists at my sides, grounding myself. Whatever I thought I felt didn’t matter. She was a sweet-looking girl, sure, maybe even beautiful in that effortlessly captivating way – if you were into that sort of thing - but she wasn’t part of my life, my world.
She was a puzzle, a problem I hadn’t solved yet, and that was the only reason she was stuck in my head. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
From just one look at her I knew. I had figured her out. It was my job to.
She was fiery, stubborn, and way too good at getting under people’s skin.
The kind of woman who didn’t just walk into your life quietly — she blew the damn doors off their hinges and planted herself firmly in the middle of everything.
Then there was that other voice in the back of my head, the one that whispered things I didn’t want to hear.
She’s also way too young for you, idiot.
I groaned inwardly. It wasn’t like she was that much younger — mid-twenties her ID had confirmed. A grown woman who was more than capable of making her own decisions in life by all accounts — but there were still enough years between us to make me feel like the dinosaur in the room.
I’d spent a decade carrying the weight of responsibilities that made me feel older than my thirty-four years, but that wasn’t her problem. She deserved something lighter, easier.
Not someone who carried the kind of baggage I did.
Hands off, Jax.
It was a mantra I repeated to myself every time she crossed my mind — which, lately, was far too often. Of course, it made perfect sense that my brain wouldn’t shut up about her.
Because apparently, I was a masochist.
Yet, I couldn’t deny the pull. The way she seemed to effortlessly hijack my attention every time she was in the room.
It wasn’t just her beauty — though, God help me, that was part of it. It was her persistence, her unshakable determination to be here, even when she had no business being anywhere near Club V.
She wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t part of anything except a growing headache I didn’t have time for.
But fuck - I kept watching her anyway.
Her persistence was starting to frustrate me. She’d been here a couple of nights ago, and now she was back, slipping past the crowd like she belonged but leaving just enough of a trail to make me question her.
I didn’t know her story, and that irritated me. She wasn’t the type to be here by accident. People like her didn’t just wander in.
It wasn’t just her presence that annoyed me — it was my reaction to it. The way my focus kept drifting back to her even when I told myself to look away. She didn’t fit the mold of the usual patron. She was quirky, in a way that made her hard to pin down, difficult to figure out at first glance.
But that stubborn persistence of hers?
That I understood.
She was like a dog with a bone, and I could see it in the way her gaze lingered a little too long on the edges of the room.
She wasn’t here to play nice or have fun.
She didn’t make sense — not yet — and I couldn’t help but want to figure her out.
I muttered a curse under my breath, straightening as she slipped into the crowd near the main floor.
If she thought she could waltz back in here and snoop around unnoticed, she was wrong.
This time, I wasn’t going to let her slip past me.
Whatever her game was, whatever she was after, I intended to figure it out.
As much as I wanted to treat her like just another problem, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was more than that.
And fuck, I wasn’t sure if that intrigued me or pissed me off more.