Chapter Eleven - Isabella
I am still wrapped around Jax when his phone buzzes sharply on the nightstand.
He tenses instantly, reaching for it with the reflexes of a man who never truly relaxes.
I sit up beside him, pulling the sheet around my breasts as he unlocks the screen.
His expression darkens the moment he opens the message.
It is a video file from an unknown number.
He taps play, and the screen fills with the face of a man I immediately recognize.
Charlie Thibodeaux. Mrs. Eleanor Thibodeaux’s grandson.
Late thirties, polished, wearing an expensive suit, standing in what looks like a dimly lit study lined with bookshelves and expensive art. His voice is calm, cultured, and ice-cold.
“Miss Monroe. Mr. Harlan. I trust the storm treated you kindly. You have something that belongs to me. Return it intact within the next twelve hours. I have eyes everywhere in Tidehaven. Try to involve the police or your little security team, and I’ll make sure you get to watch Miss Monroe suffer.
You know where to deliver it. No games.”
The video ends with a still image of the stolen painting propped against a wall, clearly undamaged but out of reach. The timestamp shows it has been recorded less than an hour ago.
My stomach drops like a stone. “That’s Charlie,” I whisper, voice shaking.
“Mrs. Thibodeaux’s grandson. He was at the preview.
He stood right beside her while she told me how the painting reminded her of her grandmother’s stories.
He smiled at me. Asked thoughtful questions about the centerpiece. He even complimented the lighting.”
Mrs. Thibodeaux had been so warm, so genuine. She had welcomed me into Tidehaven’s heart with open arms, and her own grandson had orchestrated the heist, using his grandmother as unwitting cover.
Jax’s jaw tightens, fury flashing in his eyes.
“He used his own family as camouflage. The ledger must have entries under the name Thibodeaux. They’re old money.
Offshore accounts and black-market deals hidden behind ‘art transactions’ wouldn’t be a stretch.
He wasn’t just stealing the painting for profit.
He was protecting his family’s secrets.”
I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. “She trusted him. She brought him to the gala, and he stood there smiling while those men shot at me.”
Jax sets the phone down slowly, his hand finding mine. His grip is firm, grounding. “He’s not some faceless man. He’s someone who looked you in the eye and still hurt you.”
The words land heavy between us. I squeeze his hand, anger rising alongside the hurt. “We can end this together.”
He shakes his head before I even finish speaking, already pulling away emotionally, even as his body stays close. “No. You’re staying here. Safe. I’ll lure him out alone. Make him think I’m delivering the ledger. Once he shows himself, I take him down. End of story.”
I sit up straighter, the sheet slipping down around my waist. “Absolutely not. We’re in this together, Jax. You said it yourself last night. We’re partners. Not just you protecting me from a distance. I’m not going to sit here waiting while you walk into a trap alone.”
His expression closes off, the walls I thought we had torn down slamming back into place.
He stands, pulling on a pair of sweatpants with sharp, angry movements.
“This is different. This man has reach. Resources. If something goes wrong, I won’t be the one paying for it. You will. I won’t let that happen.”
I climb out of the bed after him, not bothering to cover myself, anger and hurt rising hot in my chest. “So what? You’re just going to push me away again?
After everything we shared? After you finally let me in?
You’re going to do the same thing you always do, decide what’s best for me without asking? ”
He turns to face me, bare chest still bearing the fresh bandage, muscles taut with tension. His eyes are stormy now, filled with fear and frustration. “Yes.”
“You’re scared,” I say, voice steady even as tears prick at my eyes. “I’m the woman who fought beside you at the safe house. I’m not a liability, I’m your partner. If you walk out that door alone, you’re not protecting me. You’re just running away because you’re scared to let me stand beside you.”
For a long moment, he stares at me, chest rising and falling with harsh breaths, the conflict raging openly across his rugged face. I can see the war inside him, the need to keep me safe clashing violently with the deeper need to let me in.
“I can’t lose you,” he says finally, voice rough and broken. “Not you.”
“Then don’t push me away,” I whisper. “Let me help. Let me be part of this.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns away, grabbing a clean shirt and pulling it on with stiff movements.
The silence between us stretches, heavy and painful.
I know in that moment he’s already made his decision.
He is going to try to handle this alone, to lure Charlie into a trap without backup, to keep me out of harm’s way, even if it means breaking what we have just begun to build.
I can’t let that happen, but I also know arguing more right now will only make him shut down harder.
While he moves into the living room to check his gear and make calls, I slip quietly into the bathroom, heart pounding.
I grab my phone and send Cal a quick, urgent message explaining the video threat and Jax’s plan to go alone.
I tell them where I suspect the drop will be and ask them to be ready with backup.
Then I delete the message thread, splash cold water on my face, and step back out with a calm expression I don’t feel.
Jax is already lacing up his boots, pistol holstered at his hip, tactical vest in place. He looks every inch the dangerous ex-SEAL, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches too tightly.
“I’m heading out,” he says without looking at me. “Stay here. Lock the doors. Don’t open them for anyone but me or the team. I’ll call when it’s over.”
I nod, throat tight. “Be careful, Jax.”
He pauses at the door, turning back to look at me one last time. His eyes hold mine, filled with regret and something deeper, love, perhaps, even if he hasn’t said the word yet. “I will. This ends today.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I wait exactly sixty seconds, then grab my own jacket and keys.
I am not going to let him walk into this alone.
Not after everything we have shared. Not after he has finally started letting me in.
I slip out, heart racing as I head toward the Boathouse.
Cal and Rhea will be there. They will help me.
I’m not going behind his back out of defiance. I’m doing it because I’m smart enough to know that partnership sometimes means forcing the issue when the man you love is too stubborn to see it.
I’m going to make sure he comes back to me in one piece.