Ragatha X Jax Novels & Stories

So when she sauntered into our apartment last week with Jax draped over her shoulder like a prize, I told myself to stay detached but one look at him and detachment became impossible. Jax was sin wrapped in muscle—broad shoulders, veined forearms, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His storm-gray eyes held a quiet dominance that made my stomach tighten the moment they locked on mine. Lila giggled, already tipsy, introducing us with a sloppy wave. “This is my boring sister, Charlotte. Charlotte, meet Jax. He’s… fucking incredible in bed.” Heat flooded my face. Jax’s mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte.”

Uncle Justin poured tea for Naomi’s mother first, then served Jax and Naomi, before settling into some casual conversation. Naomi wasn’t one to talk much, and neither was Jax, but Uncle Justin and her mother were both very sociable, so the conversation flowed effortlessly. As Naomi observed her parents' attitudes toward Jax, she could already tell—they were very pleased with him. Then Uncle Justin asked about Jax’s profession. Jax replied truthfully: he was currently serving as the chief security assistant to the CEO of the the Gregory Group, and also the executive president of one of its subsidiary companies.

Elias was not in the room. That was information. She looked at Lena. Lena looked back. Then Lena looked at the grate and the mechanism of it, the angle, what it would take to open it quietly. Jax came up behind them through the crawlspace, moving with the controlled economy of someone who had done this kind of thing in spaces this tight before. Aria pointed at the grate. Held up three fingers. Counted down with them. Three. Two. One. The grate came out in Jax's hands without a sound.

Elegant people in masks and expensive clothing moved through the space like predators, some collared, some holding leashes, some simply watching. I felt completely out of my depth in my simple black dress and heels. Jax walked beside me like he owned the air itself. He was dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing those powerful tattooed forearms. His presence was a physical force — every person who saw him straightened or lowered their eyes in respect. He kept one hand lightly on the small of my back as he guided me through the main floor. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress.

Gavin shrugged his shoulders. “I won’t do anything. She’s just a harmless woman. You can see how easy it is to make this woman believe strangers until her drinks are drugs without her knowing. “ “Well, well, you’re right. But this woman is named Jaxon, and don’t pretend you don’t know. You know this city even better than the elders who lived hundreds of years in Denver. Not a single whisper escaped your ears.” Gavin shook his head. He had known Jaxon since they were young boys whose hobby was rowing a bicycle around this city to deliver some “stuff” to the cartel or “mafia” who needed their “services.” Since childhood, they were crime partners because the money was enough to buy a new toy.

Act like it. The door clicked shut behind me. I didn’t have to turn around. I already knew that heavy, confident stride. “Morning, Rosa,” Jax drawled, voice low and dripping with arrogance. He’d clearly just come from morning skate — hair still damp, wearing a fitted New York Storm hoodie and those damn gray sweatpants that clung to his muscular thighs and left nothing to the imagination. The thick outline of his cock was already visible, half-hard and swinging as he walked toward me.

I slammed my eyes open to see Jax fighting to hold the flailing Greta down on the floor. "What the hell? Where is everyone else?" "A little help here!" I pushed my hand outward aiming it at Greta. She went completely still, held immobile by the invisible hand that only I could see. "Thanks," Jax said as he got to his feet. "Where is everyone else? They were supposed to come too." It was not like Liam to leave me hanging like this. I took a second to take in Jaxon's appearance. He was roughed up badly.

The studio was dimly lit. “You must be Mia.” The voice was deep, smooth, and confident. Jax stepped out from behind the counter. He was tall, maybe thirty-five, with tattoos covering both arms and disappearing under the sleeves of his t-shirt. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and intense green eyes that seemed to see right through her. His smile was easy but carried an edge. “Yeah, hi,” she said, suddenly aware of how tight her yoga pants and cropped hoodie felt. “Thanks for fitting me in so late.”

My skin felt like it was crawling with microscopic insects. "V? You’re hyperventilating. Just a little," Jax’s voice was softer now, the adrenaline of the heist fading into genuine concern. "The money is safe. It’s bouncing through four different relays in the Baltics before it lands in your private offshore. You’re sixty million richer than you were an hour ago. Breathe."

He said and rubbed his fake beard. “Tell me, is there a girl with her?” Grayson's compelling voice asked from the other line, his voice smooth and oily, hidden with mischief, danger, warnings, and trouble. “Yeah, a little girl with her, she looks about nine or ten.” Jax spoke while licking a strawberry lollipop as he watched Thelma and her daughter leave the ice cream shop. “You need to increase my payment if you want more info about them.” He whispered to the earpiece.