Chapter Twenty-Four
Estelle
The afternoon melted into night, shadows growing long across the apartment floor. We tucked Leo in for bed after practically prying the tablet Jax had “borrowed” from Avery from his small hands. Though given the way it gleamed, I was sure it was brand new.
I sat at the kitchen table, laptop open, a file of essays waiting for me. Grading let me keep the lights on and Leo fed, but I barely saw the words tonight.
Jax hadn’t left. Jax had ordered dinner and been prowling the apartment, checking windows and locks.
Now he sat across from me, legs stretched out, his blue eyes fixed on me over the rim of his coffee mug that he was pretending to drink. The air between us was thick and charged.
Every time I glanced up, he was already watching me.
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, moving around the rickety table. Then he was behind me, large hands settling on my shoulders, thumbs working at the knots of tension there.
His fingers found a particularly tight spot, and I couldn't suppress the soft sound that escaped. He hummed in approval, working deeper, and I felt myself melting under his touch again.
"Better?" His lips brushed my temple, so light I might have imagined it.
I nodded.
"Good girl." The praise sent heat spiraling through me. "Now tell me about those men."
The spell broke, and my stomach sank. I straightened, trying to pull away, but his hands tightened on my shoulders—not painful, but immovable.
"Just some guys. It's nothing."
“Don’t lie to me.” The words were soft, but landed hard. “They knew your name. They mentioned a judge. And they scared the hell out of you, Estelle. That’s not nothing.”
I sighed, pushing the laptop away, my hands trembling just slightly. There was no point lying to him, not after what he’d seen, not after he’d put himself between me and danger without hesitation.
“They work for Damon. Leo’s father.”
Jax's hands stilled on my shoulders. In the reflection of my laptop screen, I watched his expression go arctic again, his beautiful face transforming into something lethal.
"The same father who's never been in the picture?"
I nodded, picking at the cashmere sleeve he dressed me in, so soft and expensive it felt like wearing clouds. "He's not interested in Leo. He's interested in what Leo could do for him.”
“Explain.” It was a low command, but he wasn’t being rough with me.
I hesitated, feeling the terrible ache bloom in my chest. “Leo’s mother, my sister, Giselle, was involved with Damon for a while. He’s part of a drug ring, rich, but not like…”
I gestured vaguely at him, at the Easton name that might as well have been stamped on his forehead. “Not like you. But enough. When she got pregnant, he kept her around with gifts. ”
Jax's reflection showed white knuckles, jaw carved from granite. "And now?"
“Now Giselle’s gone.” My voice cracked, blinking hard to fight off dull grief. “She overdosed three years ago. She was addicted, and Damon left her to spiral after she gave birth. But she made sure Leo would be with me if anything happened. She named me his guardian.”
His hands moved from my shoulders to frame my face, tilting my head back until I met his eyes. They burned with something that made my throat tighten even more.
“Damon doesn’t care about Leo,” I continued, leaning into his touch. “But Leo’s his only child. He wants him for the cartel when he’s older. Those men—they’re to make me look unfit.”
Jax was silent for a long moment, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones with soothing gentleness. When he spoke, his voice carried the promise of violence.
"You can't stay here."
I pulled away, shaking my head. “This is our home.”
"It's not safe." His hands caught mine, fingers intertwining. "Those men know where you live. They could come back anytime."
"They've always known where I live. This isn't new, Jax.” I shrugged, somewhat aware of how stupid this probably sounded. “This is my life. I've been handling this alone for years."
He moved around the table, crouching before my chair so we were eye level. His hands found my knees, thumbs tracing circles through the fabric as he met my gaze again.
"Then let me help. Let me get you somewhere safer. My place?—"
“No.” I cut him off, keeping my voice firm. “I can’t be dependent on you. I can’t owe you like that.”
I’d owe Jax the debt of a lifetime, and I don’t think I’d ever be able to pay it back.
"You think I give a fuck about money? About what you ‘owe’ me?" His voice dropped to a whisper that raised goosebumps along my arms. "Estelle, I care about keeping you breathing."
The honesty in his voice made me deflate. I wanted to be his, but that didn’t mean letting him control my life. "I know. But I've been handling this alone for so long. It’s fine.”
His eyes flared, blue fire suddenly igniting in the dim light.
"Fine? You think I'm fucking fine with this?" His voice dropped to a razor's edge. "After last night, after everything we shared, you think I can just watch those bastards threaten you?"
I squared my shoulders, meeting his glare head-on, my pulse pounding like a war drum, responding to his rising fury. “I’ve been fighting this fight alone for years. One night doesn't change that.”
"One night?" His laugh was harsh, a low growl that vibrated through the air. "Princess, that was you screaming my name, telling me you were mine. Was that just a fucking lie?"
Heat flared in my cheeks, but I refused to back down. “That still doesn't give you the right to control my life."
"Control?" He hissed, raw and fierce. "I'm trying to keep you breathing, you stubborn little princess.”
"Don't," I snapped, fury sparking in my veins. I hated being seen as weak when I’d survived so much. "Don't you dare talk to me like I'm fragile ."
He stepped closer, crowding me, his hands slamming down on either side of my chair, caging me in. The laptop screen cast harsh shadows across his chiseled face as he leaned over me.
"Then stop endangering yourself. Those men could have ripped you apart today, could have taken Leo, and you?—"
"I handled it!" My voice rose high. "I always handle it!"
"By running out of the car alone?" His eyes burned into mine, wild and desperate. "By putting yourself between them and danger like some damn shield?"
"Yes! Because that's who I am!" I shoved up against his chest, but he didn't budge, continuing to loom over me. "I protect my own. I don't need some rich playboy playing hero."
A dangerous flicker crossed his face. "Rich playboy?” His voice dropped to a growl. "Is that what you think this is? Some game?"
"Isn't it?" The words cut deep, sharp, and cruel. I was being mean, but I couldn’t stop the words from flowing out as our two worlds collided. "Slumming it with the poor girl, getting your kicks from?—"
"Stop." His voice was a low snarl, muscular forearms flexing on either side of me. "You know that's not what this is."
“Are you sure?” I spat back, the fire in my chest burning hotter to match the hurt I inflicted on myself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're trying to fix me, save me, make me into your perfect?—"
"You think I want to change you?" His voice cracked with frustration. "You think I don't fucking worship exactly who you are?"
My breath hitched, but I held his gaze, needing to get my point across. "Then why can't you accept that I can fight my own battles?"
"Because I can't lose you!" His voice broke, desperate and fierce. "Because the thought of those bastards touching you makes me want to tear the fucking world apart!”
My voice trembled at the admission. This was the once-playboy laying his heart out raw, for me .
We were inches apart, breath hot and heavy, lingering anger and desire crackling between us like wildfire. His eyes were wild as he stared down at me.
“Why are you fighting me on this?" His voice was rough, raw, as if he truly couldn’t understand.
"Because you're not asking me to be your partner," I hissed, my own frustration simmering. "You're trying to make me your responsibility."
"That's not—" He stopped, jaw clenched, the weight of my words sinking in.
"It is," I said, softer but no less fierce. "You want to protect me? Fine. But I’m a survivor. I don't break."
The silence stretched, thick and heavy. His arms still caged me in, but the fire in his eyes softened, replaced by something darker, hunger and frustration warring together.
"You drive me fucking insane," he growled .
"Good," I breathed, chin lifted defiantly. "Because you do the same to me."
His gaze dropped to my lips, the tension snapping, anger melting into raw, desperate hunger.
"You have no idea what you did when you fought me like that,” he whispered.
“What did I do?” I challenged, voice low and daring.
“This.”
His mouth crashed onto mine, all fury and need. The kiss was brutal, hungry—his hands tangling roughly in my hair as he pulled me closer. Something hard clattered against the kitchen table as he pressed forward, the sound sharp in the mostly quiet apartment.
My eyes flickered past him to the table.
The gun.
It had fallen from his waistband when he'd lunged for me before coming to rest near my laptop. My breath hitched even as his tongue invaded my mouth, the sight of that sleek silver weapon sending an unexpected jolt through me.
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine.
“Bad girl,” he growled, his voice thick with something darker than anger. "Staring at it like you want to touch it."
I swallowed guiltily. My eyes had indeed lingered on the weapon behind him, drawn by the sound and the gleam of silver against the wood. The gun looked alien among the domestic chaos of our evening—deadly and beautiful, like the man who carried it.
“I—”
"Don't lie to me." His hand cupped my jaw, thumb pressing hard against my lower lip as he loomed over me. "I can see it in your eyes. You're curious about what I'd do with it."