Ride me Down

Chapter Five -Line in the Sand

Taylor took her sweet time the next morning.

Again.

She moved through Jax’s room like she owned the place—shower on full heat, her vanilla-scented routine in full force, wardrobe choices made with maximum intention. She wasn’t in a rush to step out into a house full of people who thought they knew who she was just because she slept in the boss’s bed.

They didn’t know her.

And she wasn’t in the mood to pretend otherwise.

She was finishing her skincare, smoothing serum under her eyes like a slow, deliberate rebellion, when the door slammed open behind her.

“Okay,” Jax barked, voice low and sharp, “I’ve had it.”

She didn’t jump—but her hand paused mid-swipe.

He filled the doorway like a storm, jaw tight, eyes on fire.

“I gave you time,” he said, stalking toward her like she was some kind of criminal. “I let you have your routines, your space, your sparkly detachment—but enough’s enough.”

Taylor arched a brow, calm on the outside, heat flickering behind her sternum. “Good morning to you too.”

Jax stopped just a breath away from her, the air between them humming with unspoken things.

“You want to play dress-up, sip your cappuccino, act like none of this touches you—fine,” he growled. “But that ends today.”

She crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to float above this anymore, Taylor. This isn’t about pretending to be fine. This is real. It’s messy. And it’s yours now, whether you like it or not.”

She held his gaze, even though her pulse kicked hard in her throat. “So what—you’re finally ready to explain the part where my ex sold me out to a bunch of criminals?”

“Yes,” he said. “And more than that.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and tossed a folded photo on the dresser in front of her. She didn’t look at it right away. Not yet.

“You need to see what we’re dealing with,” Jax said, voice suddenly calmer—but colder. “You want to survive this? Then you’re in. All in.”

She stared at the photo, her heart ticking faster before her fingers even reached for it.

“I’m not one of your people,” she said, voice tight.

“You are now,” he replied.

A long beat passed. Then—

“Read the name on the back,” Jax said. “It’s someone you know.”

Taylor stared at the folded photo for a beat too long.

Jax’s words echoed in her ears.

“Read the name on the back.”

Her fingers moved before her brain caught up. She unfolded the glossy square slowly, pulse rising. The image showed two men—both hard-faced, mid-thirties, standing near a beat-up black SUV. Tattoos. Leather. Guns in plain view. It didn’t look like a casual photo.

She turned it over.

One name was scribbled in thick black ink, letters slightly smeared:

Caine Delgado.

Her stomach dropped.

That name—she’d heard it before. She remembered Blake whispering it once on a phone call he didn’t know she’d overheard. His voice had been shaky, his words rushed.

“I’m good for it, tell Caine that. Just a few more days—Taylor’s doing another sponsor deal. I’ll get it covered.”

Her throat went dry.

She looked up, the image still in her hand. “This… this is who’s after me?”

Jax gave one sharp nod. “Caine Delgado. Gun runner, loan shark, ex-MC with a grudge the size of Texas. Blake got in deep—real deep—and when he couldn’t pay up, he offered up a prettier target.”

Taylor's face hardened. The fear in her gut twisted into something else—cold, sharp. Rage.

“So what’s the plan?”

Jax blinked once, like he was waiting for the breakdown.

It didn’t come.

“I’m listening,” she said.

He nodded, then stepped around her and dragged a map onto the dresser—folded, marked with circles and red pen slashes. A few photos. Locations.

“This is one of Caine’s drop sites—rural, poorly guarded. We have a window in the next two days before they pull out and go off-grid. Once that happens, it’s harder to track them—and harder to get ahead of them.”

He tapped a photo of a rusted warehouse.

“My guys are pulling surveillance. But if we’re going to end this, we need leverage. Something that makes Delgado back off you and shift the heat elsewhere.”

Taylor studied the map, her expression cool but focused.

“And you have that?”

Jax’s jaw tightened. “Not yet. But I will.”

She stepped back, arms crossed. “So where do I come in?”

He looked at her—no bravado, no charm. Just the truth.

“You’re the bait.”

It didn’t surprise her.

Of course she was the bait. It made sense—strategically, if not morally. She’d seen enough cop shows to know how this kind of plan worked. Dangle the target, wait for the predator to show up, then close in.

Classic setup.

But this wasn’t scripted TV. There was no guaranteed third act rescue, no post-credit fade to black. This was real, and real got people killed.

She glanced down at the map again, then back at Jax.

“So you want to dangle me in front of him,” she said, her voice flat but steady. “And then what?”

Jax didn’t blink.

“When he comes out of hiding to grab you, we pin him. We’ll have eyes, backup, firepower.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “And if he doesn’t take the bait? Or worse—if he does, and your timing’s off by even a second?”

“I don’t miss.”

She let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Wow. That’s so comforting.”

Jax stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers with unshakable intensity. “We’ll control the location. Control the time. You’ll be wired, you’ll be watched. You won’t take a single breath I’m not tracking.”

“Sounds like a dream,” she muttered, folding her arms.

He ignored the sarcasm. “It’s the only way to draw him out without starting a war. And if we pull it off—he backs off. You’re done. You walk away.”

Taylor stared at him. “And if we don’t pull it off?”

Jax didn’t hesitate. “Then I make damn sure you walk away. Even if I don’t.”

Something about the way he said it—quiet, final—made her chest tighten.

She wanted to argue. Wanted to say she wouldn’t be anyone’s pawn, even if it was the “only” way.

But deep down, she already knew she’d say yes.

Because if this was how she got her life back—on her terms—then she was willing to play dangerous.

Even if it meant standing in the crosshairs.

“I’ve gotta admit,” Taylor said, her voice quieter now, but steady, “life wouldn’t be half as exciting without you in it.”

She met his eyes—no games, no teasing.

“So if I walk out of this, you walk out too. That’s the deal.”

Jax didn’t speak, but something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t softness exactly—more like... stillness. Attention.

“This isn’t even your mess to fix,” she added. “I didn’t ask you to play hero.”

“No,” he said finally. “But I’m not in this for gratitude.”

Taylor exhaled sharply and turned toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her—mascara on point, gloss perfect, dressed like she belonged on a rooftop patio sipping overpriced cocktails... not standing next to a biker with a kill list and a plan to use her as bait.

“Honestly,” she muttered, gesturing vaguely to her dress, to herself, “how the hell did I go from this—” her eyes flicked toward Jax, “—to that?”

She didn’t mean it cruelly. Just… honestly. Like she still couldn’t believe how fast her life had flipped.

Jax stepped beside her, gaze landing on their reflection. Him in black. Her in lilac and shimmer. Oil and perfume. Smoke and sparkles.

“You didn’t go from anything to anything,” he said. “You’re still this. You just figured out you can be both.”

Taylor looked at him in the mirror, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes.

“Can I?”

Jax met her gaze, no hesitation. “You already are.”

That landed harder than she wanted it to. She swallowed, grounding herself in the truth of it. Then, finally—finally—she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Jax nodded once, steady and sure.

“You can do this,” he said. “You’re tough as hell, darling.”

And just like that, something in her chest cracked a little.

Taylor turned to face him fully, heart ticking a beat faster. She wasn’t expecting to feel it so sharply—the pull. The want. But it was there, humming under her skin, rising with every inch of space between them that vanished.

Of course she was drawn to him.

What girl wouldn’t be?

He was tall, built like sin, and had a voice that could make a girl lose her religion and her self-respect in the same breath. He didn’t just walk into rooms—he owned them. Jax was carved out of every dangerous daydream she’d ever buried under layers of gloss and pride.

And deep down?

He wasn’t just some dark fantasy.

He was the fantasy. The one you didn’t admit out loud because it made your chest tighten and your thighs ache.

She hated how badly she wanted to lean in. To close the space. To stop pretending she didn’t crave him in a way that scared the hell out of her.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Jax didn’t chase. He didn’t ask.

He decided.

He set the rules.

And when things were over—he’d be the one to end it.

Everything with him came on his terms. Not because he was cruel, but because that’s just who he was. Solid. Unmovable. Always in control. And that—not the bad boy image, not the biker tattoos or the gun under his jacket—that’s what scared her most. Because she’d spent her whole life building walls. And Jax Maddox didn’t just have the power to tear them down.

He could walk through them like they’d never existed.

Jax didn’t move when she stepped in close. He just watched her with those unreadable, too-knowing eyes.

Of course he stayed still.

He was always in control—even when he said nothing, even when he barely breathed. He let her come to him.

Her hand pressed gently to his chest, and heat pulsed beneath her palm. Solid muscle, steady heartbeat. He didn’t flinch, didn’t lean in. He just waited—like he already knew what she'd do.

Her lips hovered over his. Close enough to feel the whisper of his breath.

And god, the pull.

It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t gentle. It was like gravity had lost its mind, dragging her toward something she already knew would burn.

Her body ached for it—panties damp, thighs clenched, heart racing—but he didn’t move.

He was letting her decide.

And somehow, that was still him calling the shots.

It was another quiet, infuriating power play.

He wouldn’t take—he’d let her offer.

So she didn’t.

Not yet.

Not like this.

Not when it meant surrendering more than just her body.

Taylor held his gaze, searching his face for something softer—something human underneath all that fire and control.

She didn’t find it. And maybe that scared her more than anything. She pulled away, slow but firm, letting her hand drop back to her side. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the bathroom. Because if she kissed him now, if she let herself fall into him even a little, she knew exactly how it would end.

He’d get under her skin.

Then under her guard.

And when he was done?

He’d walk away like he always said he would.

Taylor didn’t run. She walked—head high, shoulders back, like her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest and her lips didn’t still ache from hovering inches above Jax Maddox’s.

The hallway stretched long and quiet behind her, but she didn’t have to turn around to know he was there. She could feel him. His presence, his heat, the way he moved like a silent shadow that belonged to her whether she’d claimed it or not.

She hated that her body still reacted to him.

Worse, she hated that part of her wanted it to.

By the time she stepped into the common room, the clubhouse had already started to wake. Music played low from a speaker tucked in the corner. The clatter of mugs, the scent of something fried, and the buzz of conversation—until she entered.

And then, it shifted.

Eyes lifted. Conversations faltered. A few men leaned back in their chairs. The weight of their curiosity settled thick in the room like smoke.

No one said anything. They didn’t have to.

They saw the tension stretched taut between her and the man walking just a few paces behind her. They saw the storm she carried in her spine and the fire burning low in Jax’s stare.

Taylor didn’t acknowledge them.

She made a beeline for the coffee bar like she didn’t feel every stare following her steps or every thought being projected from across the room. She needed coffee. A minute. A reset. Something familiar to hold onto while her whole world shifted under her heels.

She grabbed a mug with practiced ease, ignoring the way her fingers trembled slightly as she poured. She didn’t look at Jax, even though she felt his gaze pinning her in place.

He didn’t say a word.

But he watched her.

Like he was guarding something.

Like he was claiming it.

And Taylor didn’t know what unsettled her more—the way he did it so effortlessly… Or how much she liked it. Dani appeared like she'd been waiting for the tension to reach its breaking point before stepping in. She slid behind the bar with the kind of effortless authority Taylor had already grown to respect, snagging a mug and pouring her coffee like she hadn’t just walked into a storm and made herself comfortable in the eye of it.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in her back if you keep staring like that,” Dani said to no one in particular.

Taylor nearly choked on her sip.

Dani didn’t look at her, didn’t smirk. She kept it casual, subtle, hands busy with a splash of milk and a packet of sugar, like she wasn’t single-handedly slicing through the pressure in the room.

Jax didn’t respond. At least not aloud.

Taylor still refused to look at him.

Dani finally turned, leaning one hip against the counter beside her. Her voice dropped, just enough that only Taylor could hear it.

“You good?”

Taylor nodded, too quickly.

Dani raised an eyebrow.

Taylor sighed, setting down her mug. “Let’s just say the tension in here could be bottled and sold as a controlled substance.”

Dani smirked but kept her voice neutral. “He’s intense. It’s kind of his thing.”

“No kidding.”

“He doesn’t play around. Not with threats. Not with women.”

Taylor glanced sideways, keeping her tone low. “Is that your way of asking what the hell is going on between us?”

Dani sipped her coffee. “Nope. That’s my way of telling you to figure it out before it eats you alive.”

Taylor let out a short laugh, but it didn’t hold much humor. “Easier said than done.”

Dani leaned in slightly. “Maybe. But you’re not the fragile little thing they thought walked in here.”

Taylor blinked, surprised. “What do they think now?”

“They’re watching to see what you decide.”

Taylor didn’t respond. She just stared down into her coffee like it held answers.

Because honestly?

She didn’t know what she was going to decide.

Taylor met Dani’s gaze, reading the curiosity behind it. Not judgment—just interest. And something else too… understanding.

She didn’t flinch.

She’d made up her mind.

Whatever Jax Maddox thought he was doing with her—whatever this pull between them was—she wasn’t about to lose herself in it. Not for a man who didn’t chase. Not for someone who made the rules and decided when they ended. Who took what he wanted until he didn’t.

“I’m not going to be another accessory to him,” Taylor said, her voice even but sharp. “Some temporary comfort while he plays hero.”

Dani didn’t interrupt.

Taylor’s hand tightened around her mug.

“When the threat’s gone, I’ll be gone too.”

Dani was quiet for a long beat. Then she hummed under her breath, like Taylor had just confirmed something she'd already suspected.

“Spoken like a woman trying real hard not to want him.”

Taylor shot her a look. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” Dani took another sip of coffee. “Doesn’t make it less obvious.”

Taylor bristled.

Dani leaned a little closer, dropping the smirk. “You think I don’t get it? He’s intense. Closed off. A little rough around the edges. And yeah—he’s had his fair share of warm bodies.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to tell you he doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Taylor blinked. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nope.” Dani pushed off the counter. “Just calling it like I see it.”

And then, as if summoned by fate—or bad timing—Jax’s voice cut through the air from the hallway.

“Taylor. You’re with me.”

She turned toward the sound automatically, pulse skipping for reasons she refused to name.

Dani gave her a half-grin. “Well. Guess you’ve got your answer.”

Taylor set down her coffee, smoothing her dress like armor.

She hadn’t made her final decision yet—not really.

But whatever came next?

She’d face it head-on.

Taylor didn’t say a word as she followed him.

He didn’t check to see if she was coming.

He didn’t have to.

He led her down the hall, past the open living room and the eyes she could still feel tracking her movement. When he turned into a side room and closed the door behind them, the rest of the world shut out with it.

The air was different in here. Cooler. Quieter. All business.

The space looked like a converted office—maps on the walls, paperwork, a monitor showing security cams in black-and-white feed loops. A single desk. Two chairs. No distractions.

Jax motioned for her to sit. She didn’t.

He didn’t push it.

Instead, he leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, his voice low and steady.

“We have one shot at this.”

Taylor nodded once, staying on her feet, her back to the wall.

He continued. “Delgado’s crew has a soft spot in their perimeter. We’ve got intel placing one of his men at a bar just outside state lines. That’s where they move money, make small drops. It’s quiet, unassuming. Which means it’s perfect.”

“For bait,” Taylor said, dry.

“For a setup,” he corrected. “We send you in under a different name. I’ll be inside, watching. We’ll have our guys on the perimeter. You won’t be out of sight, not for a second.”

“And I’m supposed to do what?” she asked. “Walk in, look pretty, and wait for him to sniff me out?”

“You draw attention,” Jax said plainly. “You don’t have to try. They’ll notice you. They already have.”

Taylor’s spine straightened. “And when they do?”

“Then we hit.”

He uncrossed his arms, stepping forward just once—close enough that his voice dropped into something quieter.

“Once we’ve got confirmation, you’re out. I pull you the second I sense movement.”

She met his eyes, calm but sharp. “And what if they recognize me on sight?”

“They won’t.”

“But if they do?”

Jax didn’t hesitate. “Then I end it. Fast.”

There was no bravado in the way he said it. No thrill. Just cold fact. Like he’d already accepted it as inevitable.

Taylor exhaled slowly.

This was real.

There was no Netflix twist. No fantasy ending with a clean escape.

This was her life.

And Jax Maddox was staking his on it.