Chapter 11 – Madeline
I couldn’t believe this was happening again. The second note, with its blunt and chilling words, sat crumpled in Jaxon’s fist.
His expression was unreadable, but his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened. The tension radiating from him was almost palpable, making it hard to stand still under his piercing gaze.
“You’re done,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re not going back to your apartment.”
“What?” I blinked, the words hitting me like a freight train. “Jaxon, you can’t just decide —”
“I’m not deciding,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m telling you. You’re not safe there. You’re leaving with me tonight until we figure something out that will be more suitable and permanent.”
I stared at him, torn between irritation at his high-handedness and a flicker of something else — relief, maybe? But no. This wasn’t about him swooping in to save the day. I couldn’t afford to let him take over my life, not when I had so much at stake.
“I appreciate the concern,” I said, crossing my arms, “but I’m not some damsel in distress, and I don’t need a babysitter.”
He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to rein in his frustration. “This isn’t about you being a damsel.” he said, his voice softening, though the edge of his protectiveness was still there. “It’s about the fact that someone is escalating things and you’re walking around like nothing’s happening.”
“I’m not walking around like nothing’s happening,” I shot back, though my voice wavered slightly. “I just… I can’t stop everything because of this. I have work to do.”
“You can’t do that work if something happens to you,” he said, stepping closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Is your investigation worth risking your life?”
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit, but I held my ground. “I’m careful,” I insisted.
“Clearly not careful enough,” he countered, gesturing toward the note. “This isn’t going to stop until you do something about it. Right now, the best thing you can do is stay somewhere safe — somewhere they can’t get to you.”
The intensity in his gaze made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, I considered arguing just for the sake of it. But deep down, I knew he wasn’t wrong.
My apartment felt less like a haven and more like a liability now. As much as I hated to admit it, the idea of being somewhere Jaxon could keep an eye on things did make me feel better.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” I said finally, though my voice lacked the conviction it usually carried.
“No,” he agreed, his tone quiet but firm, His eyes locked onto mine, steady. “It just… wouldn’t hurt you to have someone watching your six and so help me God, Madeline - that’s going to be me. Understood?”
His voice was smooth, but the command in it sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed hard, my breath catching as he leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. The warmth of his body was close enough to feel, his presence overwhelming in the best way. I hated how much I didn’t mind.
“You can argue all you want,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing the shell of my ear. “But this isn’t up for negotiation. I’m not letting anything happen to you, Scout. So, let me do what I need to do.”
The way he said my nickname — just for me — sent heat pooling in my stomach. My pulse was a traitor, hammering against my ribs as his hand came up, his knuckles grazing the side of my jaw. It wasn’t threatening; it was grounding.
My resolve started to falter.
“I—” My voice cracked, barely a whisper as I tried to hold onto the remnants of my defiance. But his thumb brushed lightly against my chin, tilting my face up until our eyes met again.
“You can fight me on this,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Deep down, though? You know I’m right. You might be tough, Madeline, but you don’t have to be Miss Independent for every waking hour.”
I wanted to argue, to say something that would regain the upper hand, but the intensity in his gaze pinned me in place. His closeness, the quiet authority in his voice, the way he made me feel like he could see every part of me — it left me completely unarmed.
“Okay,” I said finally, the word barely above a whisper, my breath unsteady. “You win.”
“Good,” he said simply, his voice like a warm, steady current. His hand dropped from my chin, the loss of contact leaving a strange ache in its wake, but he didn’t move away. His presence, his control over the moment, lingered.
“Lets go,” He gestured for me to follow, and I found myself trailing behind him as we made our way back toward the main floor of the club.
The thrum of the music and the energy of the crowd hit me like a wall, but it did little to shake the tension still coiled in my chest. I felt Jaxon’s presence beside me, solid and unwavering, as he led me toward the bar where Quinn and Leah were waiting.
Quinn spotted us first, her face lighting up as she waved. “There you are! Thought you got lost!”
Leah, standing beside her with a cocktail in hand, raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, her sharp gaze flicking between me and Jaxon.
I forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “Just… a long night.”
Quinn tilted her head, concern flashing in her eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, before glancing at Jaxon. His expression was unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his protective gaze on me.
“Madeline’s going to be coming with me tonight,” he said, his voice calm but leaving no room for debate.
Both Quinn and Leah blinked in surprise, their gazes snapping to mine.
“It’s not like that,” I said hurriedly, heat rushing to my face. “Just safety stuff.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed, her sharp gaze darting between me and Jaxon. Then, realization dawned in her eyes, and she gasped.
“Wait — hold up. Is this about that guy you told me about?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “You said he was just some creep! No big deal, you said! Mads !”
My stomach sank, and I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “It wasn’t—”
“Don’t even,” she interrupted, throwing up a hand. “If it wasn’t a big deal, why the hell is he involved?” She jabbed a thumb toward Jaxon, who stood stoic and unmoving beside me, his jaw tightening at the mention of him.
“Quinn—”
“No,” she snapped, her tone rising with exasperation. “It must’ve been way worse than what you let on if you actually used Jax’s number that I gave you. I knew it! I knew it was more complicated than what you told me!”
I glanced at Jaxon, whose gaze was locked on me with a mix of impatience and restrained anger.
“It wasn’t—” I started again, but Quinn wasn’t having it.
“Don’t even try to downplay it, Maddie!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You don’t call in the ‘big guns’ unless it’s serious. And he’s about as serious as they come.”
Leah, who had been silently sipping her cocktail, smirked behind the rim of her glass. “This just got way more entertaining,” she muttered.
“Quinn, it’s fine,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. “It’s just precautions.”
“ Precautions ?” Quinn repeated incredulously. “Precautions are locking your doors or taking a different route home. This —” she gestured dramatically between me and Jaxon.
“I’m handling it,” Jaxon cut in, his voice calm but firm, his arms crossed as he stared Quinn down.
Quinn wasn’t fazed. She turned her fiery glare on him. “Yeah? Well, you’d better. Because if something happens to her—”
“Nothing’s going to happen to her,” Jaxon interrupted, his tone like steel.
Quinn huffed but seemed to relent slightly, though her narrowed eyes told me she wasn’t entirely satisfied. “Fine. But Maddie,” she turned back to me, her voice softening just a fraction, “you’d better fill me in on everything soon. No more of this half-truths crap, okay? Promise me.”
I nodded reluctantly, guilt twisting in my chest. “I promise.”
Quinn sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. “Good. Because I swear, you’re going to give me grey hair before I’m thirty.”
Leah raised her glass again with a grin. “Cheers to that.”
As Jaxon placed a hand on the small of my back to guide me away, Quinn called after us, “And you better not let her down, Jax!”
Jaxon didn’t reply, but his hand on my back felt more firm, a silent reassurance that I wasn’t sure if it was meant for Quinn — or me.
The silence in my apartment was deafening compared to the constant hum of the club. The air felt heavier here, the shadows in the corners darker.
I wasn’t sure if that was just my imagination running wild after everything or the reality of being back in a place that didn’t feel as safe as it should.
Jaxon stepped inside behind me, closing the door with a quiet click. His presence filled the small space instantly, grounding and yet utterly overwhelming at the same time.
He hadn’t said much on the drive over, just the occasional clipped instruction about locking doors or being aware of my surroundings.
Now, standing here with no crowd, no distractions, it felt like his attention was entirely on me, even as his eyes swept the room in a calculated assessment.
“You weren’t kidding about this place being small,” he said finally, his tone low, almost conversational, as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
I rolled my eyes, trying to shake off the tension curling in my chest. “Not all of us are pulling in the kind of money it takes to live in luxury. Welcome to the real world.”
He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The real world, huh? Doesn’t look like much protection against the kind of threats you’ve been dealing with.”
I bristled, folding my arms across my chest, more for protection than defiance. “It’s not like I had a masked lunatic in mind when I signed the lease.”
His expression darkened at the mention of the masked man, and I instantly regretted bringing it up.
“You’re leaving tonight,” he said firmly, the weight of his words settling over me like a command. “This place isn’t safe, not anymore.”
I sighed, glancing around my apartment, the little pieces of my life scattered here and there. A stack of books I’d been meaning to read, my laptop still open on the coffee table, the blanket I’d curled up under too many nights to count. It wasn’t much, but it was mine — or at least, it had been.
“I’ll grab a bag,” I muttered, turning toward my bedroom.
Jaxon didn’t say anything, but I could feel his presence behind me as I moved. When I reached the small room, I paused, the reality of what was happening settling over me like a heavy weight. I wasn’t just leaving for a night — I was leaving because someone had made it clear that staying wasn’t an option anymore.
“You okay?” his voice came from the doorway, low and steady.
I turned to find him leaning against the frame, his arms still crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on me.
For all his gruffness, there was something in his expression that almost looked like concern, and it threw me off balance.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though the tightness in my chest said otherwise.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push. Instead, his gaze drifted, lingering a second too long on the dress I was still wearing from the event. I caught the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes flicked away almost immediately, as if he’d been caught looking at something he shouldn’t.
“Get what you need,” he said, his tone gruffer now, as if to make up for whatever had just passed between us.
I nodded, moving to my closet and pulling out a small duffel bag. As I started tossing in clothes, toiletries, and whatever else I thought I might need, I felt his gaze on me, steady and unrelenting.
“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” I said after a moment, trying to break the tension.
“Yeah, I did,” he replied simply.
I glanced over my shoulder at him, my hands stilling for a moment. “Why?”
His jaw tightened again, and he looked away, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for an answer. “Because this is a pressing matter,” he said finally, his voice low.
I frowned, turning back to the bag on the bed. My hands hesitated over the zipper, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. “I am taking it seriously, you know.” I muttered, my voice quieter now. “I just don’t think uprooting my life is going to solve anything.”
“It’ll buy you time,” he countered, his tone firm as he stepped further into the room, his presence filling the small space. He didn’t shout, but the intensity of his words carried the same weight. “It also means that they won’t be able to get to you. I’m going to make sure of that.”
I didn’t respond, focusing instead on folding a shirt and stuffing it into the bag with a little more force than necessary.
Jaxon crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe for a moment before straightening, his jaw tight. “Once you’re out of here, we’ll figure out the next steps. Like what to do about this place.” His eyes swept the apartment, lingering on the flimsy locks and the outdated windows. “What kind of landlord leases you a place like this? No proper security, no functioning cameras — it’s a fucking joke…”
“It’s not that bad,” I said, bristling under the scrutiny. “It’s what I could afford.”
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I get that, Madeline. But this ?”
His words hung heavy in the air, and I found myself swallowing hard, unsure how to respond.
Part of me wanted to argue, to push back against his overbearing protectiveness, but another part — a quieter, more vulnerable part — was grateful he was here.
“Yeah, okay.” I said finally, zipping up the bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
He stepped closer, reaching out to take the bag from me before I could protest. “I’ll carry it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated for a moment after he took my bag, glancing down at the green dress I was still wearing. It had been fine for the club, but now, in the quiet of my apartment, it felt too tight, too revealing, and entirely out of place.
“I, uh… I need to change before we go,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
Jaxon nodded, stepping back toward the door. “Go ahead. I’ll wait out here.”
I turned toward my bedroom, my hands moving to the zipper at the back of the dress, but I quickly realized the angle was impossible. I tried twisting, pulling at it awkwardly, but the stubborn zipper wouldn’t budge.
“Of course,” I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling up.
“What’s wrong?” Jaxon’s voice came from behind me, startling me.
I froze, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “Nothing,” I said quickly, though my fingers were still fumbling with the zipper.
There was a moment of silence before he stepped closer. “You can’t reach it, can you?”
I turned slightly, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes steady as they locked on mine.
“No,” I admitted reluctantly, my cheeks heating.
He sighed, moving toward me with deliberate steps. “Turn around,” he said, his tone low and calm.
I hesitated but did as he said, my heart hammering in my chest as I turned my back to him.
His hands were warm as they brushed against my skin, his fingers deftly finding the small zipper at the top of the dress. The first tug was gentle, almost tentative, and I felt the slow slide of the fabric loosening around me.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, the quiet punctuated only by the soft sound of the zipper and the faint hitch in my breath.
“You’re good,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that caught me off guard. His hand lingered near the back of my neck, his fingers brushing against my skin with a touch that was firm yet careful.
Then came the squeeze — small, deliberate, almost reassuring, but it sent goosebumps racing over my arms and down my spine. It wasn’t just the touch; it was the unspoken confidence behind it, like he knew exactly what he was doing, both to the situation and to me.
His fingers grazed the edge of my neck one last time before dropping away, leaving a strange sense of loss in their wake.
I turned back to face him, clutching the dress to keep it from slipping. His eyes caught mine, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. There was something in his gaze — something heated, something that made my stomach flip and my skin tingle.
“Thanks,” I managed, though my voice was barely a whisper.
Jaxons stare dropped for a split second before he stepped back and out of the bedroom door, putting a careful amount of space between us. “Get changed,” he said, his voice a little gruffer than before.
I nodded, slipping further into the room and slowly shutting the door behind me. My hands trembled slightly as I pulled the dress off and changed into something more comfortable, but my mind wasn’t on the clothes.
It was on him. On the way his touch had lingered just a little too long, on the heat that had spread through me in response.
My body was still humming with the charge of that moment, and as much as I tried to shake it off, the memory of his hands on me refused to fade.
I shifted uncomfortably as I pulled on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, a flush creeping up my neck for reasons I didn’t want to dwell on. The sensation he left behind wasn’t just in my mind — it was deeper, more intimate than I wanted to admit.
My body had betrayed me in the worst way, a soft ache settling low in my stomach, heat pooling between my thighs in a way that made me want to curse out loud.
This wasn’t just attraction; it was something more primal, something I didn’t have time for and definitely didn’t need.
I took a shaky breath, trying to will my body to behave, but the memory of his touch lingered like an uninvited guest.
Focus, Maddie. He’s just helping. That’s all it is.
Even as I tried to rationalize it, my body refused to listen, the warmth spreading through me a constant, maddening reminder of how easily he got under my skin. When I stepped out of the room, I felt his gaze land on me, sharp and assessing, and it only made that ache intensify.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady, almost too controlled.
I nodded quickly, avoiding his eyes as I grabbed my bag. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
As he led the way out of the apartment, I kept my focus on the hallway ahead, trying desperately to shake off the feeling. But deep down, I knew the moment wasn’t going anywhere — and neither was the way he made me feel.