Ride me Down

Chapter Three -Unfinished Business

Taylor had ghosted everyone for a week—and it felt amazing. She answered emails, closed deals, posted content that got five times her usual engagement, and ignored every single attempt at human connection. No brunch invites. No calls from Maddison. No “accidental” texts from Blake. Just her, her coffee, and a to-do list she was annihilating like a woman possessed.

Her apartment smelled like eucalyptus candles and revenge productivity.

By Friday night, she was running on iced coffee, spite, and pure adrenaline. She didn’t even bother changing out of her oversized hoodie when someone buzzed her apartment. She almost didn’t answer at all.

Then she saw the name.

Blake.

She frowned.

“Nope,” she said out loud to no one.

But he buzzed again. And again. And again—until she sighed dramatically and hit the intercom.

“What do you want?”

Static.

Then his voice, shaky and too soft.

“Taylor… please. I need to talk to you.”

She almost hung up right then. Almost.

But something in his voice—desperation, fear, panic—caught her off guard. Against every ounce of better judgment, she buzzed him in.When she opened the door, Blake looked like hell.

His button-up was wrinkled, face pale, bags under his eyes that hadn’t been there a week ago. His hair, usually styled to perfection, looked like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.

She crossed her arms, unimpressed.

“You’ve got thirty seconds.”

He stepped inside like he didn’t hear her. “Taylor, I—I messed up.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t about us, it’s—” He stopped, looked around like someone might be listening. “It’s bigger than that. I need your help.”

She scoffed. “Wow. First my best friend, now my ex-husband. Do you people take turns screwing me over or is there a group chat I’m not part of?”

“Taylor.” His voice cracked. “They’re coming after you.”

That stopped her.

“What?”

“I… I gambled. Lost. In that town outside the city—near where you ended up that night.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean the town where I found you screwing Maddison?”

He flinched.

She didn’t care.

“I didn’t know how bad these guys were,” he continued. “I thought I could fix it. Maddison bailed—she ran as soon as they started looking for us. I had nothing left to offer so I… I told them you were my ex-wife. That you—” he swallowed, “—you were loaded. That you’d pay.”

Silence.

Taylor stared at him, ice flooding her veins.

“You what?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I panicked, okay? I thought I’d stall them. Buy time. But now they think you’re good for the money. They know your name, Taylor. Your face. Your address.”

For a second, she didn’t say anything.

Then she moved—quick, purposeful. She snatched her phone, opened her security app, checked her camera feed. Nothing outside. Yet.

“You gave my name to criminals?” she asked, slowly, like she needed to confirm how far gone he really was.

“I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Oh, I don’t know—not hand me over like some get-out-of-debt card?”

“Taylor—”

“No!” she snapped. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re still a team. You and Maddison nuked that possibility when you decided to screw me over in every imaginable way.”

He looked like he might cry.

She didn’t care.

“You need to leave,” she said coldly. “Right now.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Not. My. Problem.”

And then her phone buzzed—again. Unknown number.

She knew who it was.

She didn’t want to need him.

She didn’t want this to be happening.

But deep down, she already knew—there was only one person who might be able to help her now. And he was the last person she wanted to see again.

“I hate that you gave me no choice,” she snapped, grabbing Blake by the arm and dragging him toward the door.

“I’m not leaving! Haven’t you been listening? You’re in danger, Tay!”

She let go of him and exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose like it might keep her from slapping him.

“I heard you, Blake. Loud and crystal f*****g clear.” Her voice dropped into a hiss. “Apparently the only useful thing you’ve done—besides wrecking my life—is lead me straight to the one person who might actually be able to fix this mess.”

Blake blinked.

She stepped forward, all fire and threat now. “So you need to go. Now. While I deal with the shitstorm you invited to my front door.”

He opened his mouth, probably to argue or grovel—she didn’t care which—but she flung the door open and gave him a look that sliced through whatever courage he had left.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police,” she said flatly. Then, colder: “Or worse.”

That shut him up.

Blake stared at her for one more beat—then turned and ran, like the coward he’d always been. No apology. No dignity. Just gone.

She slammed the door shut behind him and stood there, gripping the handle, her chest rising and falling fast.

“Goddammit,” she muttered. “I was doing so well.”

She turned, grabbed her phone, and stared at the last number that had called her. She didn’t want to do this. She really didn’t. But her life was now the punchline to some cruel cosmic joke, and she was out of options.

Taylor bit her lip, thumb hovering over the screen. Then—

She hit call.

It didn’t even ring twice.

“Told you you’d call.”

His voice slid through the speaker like smoke and sin and everything she didn’t need.

“I need your help,” she said, skipping the attitude. No time for pride now.

A pause. Then:

“Where are you?”

“My apartment.”

“Are you alone?”

She hesitated. “Yes. For Now.”

“Stay inside. Lock the doors.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Already on my way.”

He hung up before she could say anything else.

Taylor lowered the phone slowly and stared at the door like something was about to burst through it.

Because something was.

And for better or worse, she had just invited Jax Maddox back into her life.

Taylor paced the length of her living room like a caged animal.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since she made the call. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more—how fast Jax was getting here, or the fact that part of her was relieved.

When the knock came, it wasn’t soft.

It was three firm raps that said open up, now.

Taylor unlocked the door and swung it open—ready to snap, to assert some control—but the words stuck in her throat.

Jax stood there in all black—jacket, boots, the glint of something silver on his belt that told her he wasn’t taking chances. His jaw was set. His eyes scanned behind her before landing on her face. They were darker than she remembered. Colder. Controlled.

Not cocky.

Not flirty.

Just dangerous.

“Get your stuff,” he said.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re coming with me.”

She scoffed. “To where? I’m not going anywhere.”

Jax stepped inside without asking, brushing past her like he owned the air around them.

“You’re not safe here, Taylor. If Blake gave them your name, they’ll be looking. And they’ll come.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t,” he said flatly, eyes scanning the windows, the corners. “Not against men like this.”

She followed him as he moved deeper into the apartment, checking her locks, her blinds, even her damn balcony door.

“You can’t just barge in and—”

“I can,” he cut in. “And I will. Pack a bag. You’re staying at the house.”

“No.” Her voice rose with the only defense she had left: control. “I’m not staying in some pit full of tattooed degenerates who drink motor oil for breakfast.”

Jax turned to her slowly. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s not a request.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You don’t get to make decisions for me.”

He stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes.

“Someone put a target on your back because your i***t ex couldn’t keep his hands off your money—or your best friend. And now those same people think you owe them. If you think a swipe of your Amex or a security system’s gonna save you, you’re not thinking straight.”

Her throat tightened. She hated that he was right. She hated how calm he was while she was spinning.

“I don’t want to be your problem,” she muttered.

“You already are.”

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

“You could’ve said no,” she whispered.

“I never say no to people who need me,” Jax said. “Even when they hate asking.”

Taylor stared at him for a long moment.

Then she turned and stormed to her room.

“Five minutes,” he called after her. “That’s how long I’m giving you. We’re not waiting around to see who knocks next.”

She didn’t answer.

She just grabbed a bag and started throwing things in. Because whether she liked it or not… Jax Maddox had just become the only thing standing between her and something worse.

The motorcycle rumbled to a stop inside the compound—surrounded by concrete, chrome, and the low thrum of distant music. Taylor slid off stiffly, scanning her surroundings like a cornered animal. This wasn’t just a house. It was a bunker dressed up like a clubhouse.

The air smelled like oil, smoke, and trouble.

Men loitered near the garage, their voices low, eyes sharp. A few lifted their heads as she walked in behind Jax, their stares trailing just a second too long. She felt their attention like heat on her skin—and she hated that her instinct wasn’t to run, but to stay closer to Jax.

Jax didn’t react to them. He walked like he owned the ground they stood on—and probably did. Inside, the building was rough but structured—leather furniture, weapons mounted subtly on walls, a bar along one side, and open doors leading to private halls.

“Taylor,” he called over his shoulder, “keep up.”

She resisted the urge to snap at him. Barely.

By the time she stepped through the main room, a woman was already waiting behind the bar. Dark hair in a braid, lean frame, arms inked from shoulder to wrist. She looked like she could clean a gun one-handed while drinking whiskey with the other.

“Taylor,” Jax said, nodding toward the woman, “this is Dani. Diesel’s woman.”

Dani gave her a quick once-over. “She’s prettier than you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Jax replied dryly.

“Exactly.”

Taylor blinked, unsure whether she’d been insulted or welcomed.

Dani smirked. “Come on. You can crash in my room if you don’t want to breathe in his man musk.”

Before Taylor could respond, Jax shut that down fast.

“She sleeps in my room.”

Taylor whipped her head toward him. “I—excuse me?”

He didn’t even look at her. “My room. Full lock. Reinforced door. Only two keys. It’s the safest place in the house.”

“I don’t need a padded panic room.”

“You do now.”

She clenched her jaw. “You can’t just decide that—”

“I can,” he said without missing a beat, “and I did.”

Dani gave Taylor a shrug and a half-smile. “Don’t bother arguing. You’ll lose. Everyone does.”

Taylor turned to Jax. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he replied. “And don’t bother asking to stay somewhere else. Not up for discussion.”

Before she could fight him harder, he turned away, already on the move.

“Diesel’s watching the gate,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m checking the cams, locking down blind spots, and running names through my contacts.”

Taylor watched his back as he disappeared through a hallway—shoulders squared, every movement precise.

No hesitation. No fear. All purpose.

It was infuriating.

And somehow—comforting.

She exhaled a slow breath, tension coiled tight in her chest.

Dani slung an arm around her shoulder like they’d known each other for years.

“Come on, princess. I’ll show you where the snacks are.”

Taylor stood just inside the doorway, her duffel slung over her shoulder, staring at the bed she’d already woken up in once before. It looked exactly the same as that morning—rumpled gray sheets, the faint imprint of where she’d slept still ghosted across the pillow. She hated how familiar it felt. Like her body remembered something she wasn’t ready to name.

Her gaze drifted to the nightstand.

A small black box sat there, just like he’d said. She walked over slowly and flipped the lid open. Her earrings—delicate gold hoops—rested inside, perfectly untouched.

Of course he’d kept them.

Of course he’d been right.

She snapped the box closed with a quiet click and set it down, jaw tight.

The room was quiet. Still. And yet somehow filled with him. His scent lingered in the air—leather and something warm, woodsy. Something frustratingly addictive. Taylor sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg up beneath her. She wasn’t sure if she felt trapped or protected. Probably both. She hated that.

She told herself she wasn’t waiting.

But she didn’t try to sleep.

When the door opened, she didn’t flinch. She just looked up.

Jax stepped in, quiet but solid. Confident as always. His shirt clung to his frame, dusty from whatever backlot work he’d been doing. His hair was slightly mussed, eyes dark and sharp as ever.

“You’re back,” she said softly.

He nodded and closed the door behind him. “No movement. Diesel’s got a man posted on the roof. I checked the outer cams. Nobody’s come near the property.”

She just nodded.

A beat passed.

“You find your earrings?”

She motioned to the box. “Yeah. In exactly the spot you said. Do you always catalog women’s jewelry like a serial killer?”

He gave her a look. “You think you’re just ‘a woman’ to me?”

Taylor looked away, heart skipping something she didn’t give it permission to skip.

“I was doing fine,” she said after a moment. “I had a system. I was back on track. Focused.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m in your bed again. In your world. On your terms.”

He moved toward the chair but didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. Watching her.

“No one’s in charge here but you, Taylor.”

She laughed once—dry and sharp. “That’s cute coming from the man who told me where I’d be sleeping without asking.”

“If I asked,” he said evenly, “you would’ve said no.”

She didn’t argue. Because he was right. And that pissed her off more than anything. She lay back slowly, one arm draped over her eyes, voice muffled.

“I don’t need saving.”

“Didn’t say you did.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t push. She lowered her arm, just enough to meet his eyes.

“Are you staying?”

“For a while,” he said. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Taylor looked at him, then turned her head toward the wall.

“Fine.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just settled into the chair quietly. And somehow, with him sitting there in the dark—silent, unshaken—she finally let her eyes close.