Chapter 7 – Jaxon
Sean stood in the breakroom, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his posture as rigid as the tension rolling off him. His jaw was set, his eyes darting anywhere but at me, which told me everything I needed to know — he was pissed, and he was trying not to show it.
I’d seen him like this before, back in the field, when the weight of something unspoken sat too heavy on his shoulders. The difference now was that this wasn’t life-or-death.
Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.
“You’ve been on my ass all week,” he snapped, his tone sharper than I expected. “You want to tell me what the fucks going on?”
I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance, keeping my expression as calm as I could. “You’ve been distracted,” I said evenly, trying to stay level-headed even as irritation started to flicker. “If you’re not up to the job, I need to know.”
“Jax, for the millionth fucking time, I’m fine ,” he snapped, his voice rising with a frustration that cut through the air. The edge of defensiveness bled into his words, sharp and raw. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair in an agitated motion. “You don’t have to play drill sergeant every time something’s not perfect or running the way it should.”
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms as his words hit their mark. He kept going, his tone hardening, like he was trying to push me back — or maybe convince himself. “This shit that’s going sideways? It doesn’t always mean it’s going to blow up anymore, okay? Things happen. Not every damn thing is a catastrophe waiting to happen.”
I watched his eyes flicker, a brief flash of something that looked like guilt before he slammed the shutters down again. It was a familiar move, one I’d seen too many times before. Sean had always been good at keeping things locked up tight, but I knew the cracks when I saw them.
He leaned harder into the counter, his fingers gripping the edge like he could anchor himself. “I’m handling it,” he muttered, but his tone lacked the conviction I needed to hear.
“You’re not fine,” I said flatly, stepping closer, my tone sharp and unrelenting. My voice dropped, carrying an edge that left no room for misinterpretation. “People are talking, Sean. They’ve been saying you’ve been agitated with the guests. Pissing off the high rollers.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance. “So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” I pressed, my gaze locking onto his, daring him to look away. “Because the guy I knew wouldn’t be making enemies out of the people who keep this place running. The guy I vouched for wouldn’t be acting like a damn liability.”
Sean’s jaw tightened, his shoulders stiffening as his eyes flicked away from mine. “What are you, my therapist now?” he muttered, his voice low but seething with frustration.
“No, although if you want my opinion, you should see one!” I shot back, my voice like steel. “I’m simply the guy who’s trying to keep this place from imploding because you’re too busy screwing up to see what’s happening right in front of you. So talk to me, Sean. Before it’s too late.”
For a moment, I thought I had him. His jaw worked like he was chewing on the words, deciding whether or not to spit them out. His shoulders tensed, his fingers curling around the edge of the counter like he was holding himself steady.
Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He shook his head, his lips pressing into that stubborn, thin line that drove me crazy.
“Drop it, Brooks,” he muttered, the words clipped and final.
I took another step closer, enough to make him meet my eyes. I could feel the tension rolling off him, could see the cracks just beneath the surface, but he was still trying to stonewall me. And I wasn’t having it.
“I asked you once the other day,” I said, my tone cold. “Now I’m asking again for the final time. I won’t ask a third, Sean. Do you have your shit together, or do I need to intervene?”
His head snapped up at that, his eyes flashing with something like indignation. “I said I’m handling it.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “But handling it doesn’t look like this.” I gestured at him, at the way his body practically vibrated with tension, at the dark circles under his eyes and the way he couldn’t hold my gaze for more than a second at a time.
“You look like shit,” I said bluntly, my gaze narrowing as I stepped closer. “You think I haven’t noticed?” I gestured around the room, my voice taking on an edge. “Do you want Declan on my ass because you didn’t take a couple of personal days when you should have? Because that’s exactly where this is headed.”
Sean scoffed, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, spare me the lecture, Jax. I don’t need you playing babysitter. Not everything needs to be your business.”
“It is my business if it affects the club,” I said, my voice hardening. “It’s my business if it affects you too.”
The silence between us stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
His shoulders slumped just slightly, his hands flexing against the counter as if trying to release some of the pressure he was carrying.
He shook his head again, his defences slamming back into place. “I told you — I’m fine. Just let it go.”
I stared at him, my frustration simmering just below the surface. Sean wasn’t fine, and we both knew it. But he was too damn stubborn to admit it, and I couldn’t force him to talk.
Not yet, anyway.
“Fine,” I said at last, my voice sharp. “But hear me now: if this keeps up, I will step in. Whether you like it or not.”
He didn’t respond, just gave me a stiff nod before pushing past me and leaving the breakroom.
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair as I watched him go. The weight in my chest didn’t lift — in fact, it felt heavier.
Sean was spiralling, and if he didn’t let me pull him out of it soon, there was no telling how far he’d fall.
As much as I wanted to let him handle it on his own, I wasn’t sure I could stand back and watch him crash.
Not when I’d already seen too many good men break under the weight of their own silence.
I wasn’t planning on running into anyone when I arrived early — not Sean, not the staff prepping the bar, and definitely not her. But as soon as I stepped onto the main floor, the sound of laughter reached me.
Light and easy, it cut through the usual hum of daytime activity at Club V like a sharp note in a quiet room.
I followed the sound, my boots echoing softly against the polished floors. The place felt almost serene during the day, stripped of its nighttime chaos, but even now, there was an edge to it — an undercurrent of tension that never really went away.
As I rounded the corner, I spotted them. Quinn, her blonde hair catching the daylight that filtered in through the skylights, was sitting at one of the corner tables, gesturing animatedly with a fork in hand.
Across from her, leaning back in her chair like she owned the place, was Scout.
She looked different today. Gone was the sleek, carefully tailored black dress she’d worn the last time she’d graced me with her presence. Instead, she was dressed down, her fitted blouse and jeans somehow managing to be both casual and infuriatingly flattering. Her hair was loose again today - as if this was her go-to style to enrage me personally - and for half a second, I wondered if she’d done it on purpose — this whole I’m just effortlessly put-together look.
If she had, it was working.
I stood there for a moment, unnoticed, watching as she laughed at something Quinn said. It was an unguarded kind of laugh, the kind that didn’t belong in a place like this.
Quinn spotted me first, her face lighting up with a grin. “Jackie! Fancy seeing you here during daylight hours.”
I groaned inwardly but let it slide — for now. Quinn Carson had a way of getting under my skin, poking and prodding with just the right amount of mischief to be annoying, but not quite enough to cross the line.
She was a tiny little bully, sure, but it wasn’t the same as Scout .
Quinn’s teasing was light-hearted, almost… endearing. It was her way of connecting, of making herself known in a world that often moved too fast and too loud.
She’d been working at Club V for about a year now, and in that time, I’d gotten to know her pretty well. Too well, maybe. Liked her, even, though I wasn’t exactly about to admit that out loud.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized — she was maybe even a friend? The idea caught me off guard, but there it was.
Beneath all the glitter, the dramatics, and the relentless teasing, Quinn had a good heart.
That concept of friendship was foreign to me these days.
Quinn was sharp, sweet, and unrelentingly optimistic — sometimes to a fault. A bottle girl in a place like this could easily get overwhelmed, but not Miss Carson. She’d proven more than once that she could hold her own, even when the patrons got too handsy or the night took a turn.
Still, there were moments I wondered if she was in a little over her head, like she wasn’t quite hardened enough for the edges of this world.
There was a resilience under all that glitter and sparkle, something that made her stand out from the crowd of employees who only saw this as a pay check or a stepping stone.
“What have I said about calling me that, Carson?” I scolded lightly, fixing her with a pointed glare.
Quinn just grinned wider, completely unfazed. “Oh, relax and pull your shorts out your ass. It’s a term of endearment .”
Madeline turned at that, her dark eyes locking onto mine. The easy smile she’d been wearing didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else there — sharper, more calculating.
“Didn’t realize the club turned into a café when I wasn’t looking,” I said, stepping closer, my tone edged with dry amusement.
Quinn motioned to the plates in front of them, her grin still firmly in place. “We’re just helping ourselves. Perks of knowing the right people.”
Madeline tilted her head, her smile shifting into something softer, almost playful.
I folded my arms, levelling her with a look. “That why you’re here, Scout? Filling up before your next round of sneaking around?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips twitching into a smirk. “What can I say? Being reprimanded by a big old brute like you can work up an appetite.”
Quinn snorted, clearly amused as she leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it’s fun to watch.”
“Nothing’s going on,” I said quickly, my tone sharper than intended.
“Not a thing,” Madeline added, though her smirk deepened as she glanced back at me.
Quinn shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself. “Sure it’s not.” She picked up her drink and stood. “Well, I think this calls for another round. I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is. Play nice , Jax.”
I glared after her as she walked away, ignoring the soft laugh Madeline tried — and failed — to hide behind her hand.
“ Jackie ?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s cute.”
“Don’t,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at her. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook, either.”
“For what?” she asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “For whatever you’re really doing here, Scout. Because we both know you’re not just here for lunch.”
Her expression didn’t falter, but her eyes flicked away for the briefest moment — just enough to confirm what I already suspected.
“I guess you’ll just have to keep guessing, won’t you?” she said, her smirk returning.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to press her harder. She was infuriating, and yet…
Fuck . I couldn’t look away.
Madeline leaned back in her chair, swirling the straw in her drink with an exaggerated air of nonchalance. “You’re here early,” she said, her tone light but laced with mischief. “Didn’t think big, bad bears worked during daylight hours.”
I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at her. “Security works when security’s needed. You’d know that if you weren’t so busy turning this place into your personal playground.”
She smirked, tipping her glass toward me in a mock toast. “Playground? Interesting choice of words. You must think I’m having so much fun.”
“Don’t play innocent,” I shot back. “We both know you like to push limits.”
She feigned a gasp, her free hand going to her chest. “Me? Push limits? You give me way too much credit.”
“Not credit,” I muttered, leaning against the back of a chair. “Just facts. You’ve got that look about you.”
She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Oh, and what exactly does that look entail?”
“Overconfident,” I said flatly, ticking the word off on my fingers. “Smirky. And entirely too comfortable in places you shouldn’t be.”
“Smirky?” she repeated with a laugh. “That’s a word now?”
“It is when it applies,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “And it definitely applies.”
“Interesting,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “So, if I’m the smirky one, what does that make you? The broody one?”
“I’m not broody,” I said, though the edge in my tone probably didn’t help my case.
Her grin widened, her dark eyes sparkling with unrestrained mischief. “Oh, you’re definitely broody. I bet you have a whole brooding playlist for moments like this. What is it — dark synth? Moody jazz? Or are we talking angsty rock ballads?”
I stared at her, deadpan. “I don’t have a playlist.”
“ Sure you don’t,” she said, biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh. Then her eyes lit up with a spark of mock horror, her hand flying to her mouth as if she’d uncovered my deepest, darkest secret. “Oh my god. You’re into Dad Rock, aren’t you, Old Man?”
I blinked, unimpressed. “What the hell is Dad Rock?”
She gasped dramatically, leaning in like she’d just cracked the case of the century. “You know — classic rock, the stuff middle-aged guys listen to while they’re grilling. Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, maybe a little Springsteen for good measure. You probably throw in some Journey, don’t you?”
“I am not middle-aged, you sassy little shit, and I don’t own a grill,” I said dryly, crossing my arms as her grin widened.
“Right,” she said, drawing out the word like she didn’t believe me for a second. “Next time I catch you humming ‘Livin’ on a Prayer,’ you owe me a drink.”
“That’s never going to happen,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes, but the corners of her mouth were already twitching into a triumphant smirk.
“Uh-huh,” she said, straightening up and giving me a knowing wink. “I’ll be waiting, Brooks.”
Quinn, who had been lingering nearby had come back to the table with two glasses of wine, handing one to Madeline, she snorted loudly. “Oh, I like her. She’s not wrong, honey, she’s got you figured out!”
I shot Quinn a look, but it was hard to muster my usual glare with Madeline sitting there, her laughter soft and melodic, tugging at something in my chest.
My gaze flicked to the curve of her lips, the way her teeth grazed her bottom lip when she smiled. She had no idea how much she was getting under my skin.
Or maybe she did, and that only made it worse.
“Are you done?” I asked, fixing Madeline with what I hoped was a stern look.
“Not even close,” she replied cheerfully. “But I’ll give you a break. For now.”
As she spoke, her hair slipped over one shoulder, exposing the delicate line of her neck. I couldn’t help it — my eyes followed the movement, lingering for just a second too long. My thoughts strayed, imagining my hand there, feeling the warmth of her skin, the flutter of her pulse. What would it feel like to hear that teasing tone of hers drop into something softer, breathier? To see her eyes lose that mischievous glint and focus solely on me?
The thought slammed into me and I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away.
“Do yourself a favour, Scout,” I said, my voice dropping slightly to ground myself. “Quit while you’re ahead.”
She tilted her head, her smile softening into something almost teasing. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The air between us felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension. Her confidence was maddening , and yet it was the exact thing that drew me in. It made me want to break through that veneer, to find out what she looked like without the smirks and the sharp comebacks — what she sounded like when she wasn’t trying to win the conversation.
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to step back.
“Go find something else to do, Madeline,” I muttered, my voice gruff, though I prayed it didn’t betray the chaos brewing just beneath the surface.
Her grin only widened as she stood, brushing invisible lint from her blouse like she wasn’t intentionally driving me to the edge. “Sir, yes Sir…” she quipped, her tone laced with that mix of sass and amusement. Then, with a glance at Quinn and rolling her eyes, she added lightly, “I’m off to powder my nose. Don’t miss me too much.”
I didn’t bother with a response, just watched as she turned and disappeared, her steps slow and deliberate, her hips swaying with an ease that was far too calculated. My hands flexed at my sides, tension rippling through me as I let out a sharp breath, trying to shove down the heat that always seemed to linger in her wake.
It was infuriating, the way she managed to pull my focus without even trying. Everything about her was designed to get to me, whether she meant to or not.
“Subtle,” came Quinn’s voice, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I turned toward her.
Quinn shrugged, her expression far too innocent to be genuine. “Oh, nothing,” she said, drawing out the words. “Just enjoying the show.”
“There’s no show,” I said sharply, my tone clipped, but Quinn’s smirk only deepened.
“Uh-huh,” she quipped, tilting her head toward where Maddie had just walked away. “You might want to work on the moody thing, though. And, you know, the staring. Not exactly subtle when your eyes are glued to her ass.”
I sighed, dragging a hand down my face as a heat I didn’t want to acknowledge crept up my neck. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Right,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and folding her arms, her grin wide and unapologetic. “And I’m a nun.”
“Quinn,” I warned, but she only laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that seemed far too entertained by my discomfort.
“Relax, Jackie,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I think it’s cute. You’re all macho military dude and she’s the one who makes you look like lovesick puppy.”
I shook my head, biting back a smile despite myself. Quinn Carson, chaos in heels.
I scowled, ignoring the comment. “You sure you want to befriend her?”
Quinn tilted her head, her brow lifting. “Maddie? What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s persistent,” I said, crossing my arms. “People like that usually have an angle.”
Quinn let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Not everything’s an angle, J. Sometimes people are just… people. Nice ones, even.”
I gave her a pointed look, but she waved me off.
“Well, I like her,” Quinn said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, fixing me with a pointed look. “And maybe you would too, if you stopped glaring at her like she kicked you in the nads.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the smirk creeping onto her face. “I’m not glaring.”
Quinn snorted, rolling her eyes in a way that only she could make look endearing. “Oh, please. That look you gave her? Pure Grr-get-off-my-lawn. Like a guard dog who doesn’t know whether to growl or roll over for belly rubs.”
I grunted, watching as she took a long sip of her wine with a raised, perfectly plucked eyebrow - unbothered by my warnings.
Still, as I stood there, my gaze flickering back to where Madeline had disappeared, I couldn’t shake the feeling.
Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe not everyone had a hidden motive. But if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that Madeline Hart wasn’t just anyone.
If she thought she could waltz into Club V and walk out without me figuring out her game, she was in for a surprise.