Page 68 of Roots of the Wicked

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chase

Jax had been skittish about forging a relationship with me, and the media attacking us today would send her packing for sure. She made it clear from the start she valued her privacy, and although it had been difficult, she had chosen to share with me the reasons why. Even without knowing about her past, I had made an effort to be as careful with her privacy as my own.

We’d returned a day early from what should’ve been a peaceful trip. She was certain we had a sex tape either out, or one on the verge of being released. Was it possible since we had no idea how long the drone had been spying?

There was a handful of people who knew where I was taking the yacht, and they had all signed nondisclosure agreements. One way or the other, I would find out which of them leaked my location with Jax to the media.

Hearing the helpless sound of her gasping for breaths, and the way her body had trembled against mine, had killed me. I didn’t know what to do to help her because it was my fault she was suffering. The crowd had triggered the traumatic event she had suffered when she was younger. I couldn’t imagine what she felt, or what was going through her mind.

There were clear signs shown today that she was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Jax needed help, and I was going to make sure she received it.

She had fallen asleep clutching me. I shook her awake when we made it to the driveway.

“Where are we?” She looked up groggily, peering through my window. Her head swiveled to my colonial style gated villa. The place offered privacy and a tranquil form of peace hard to come by inside the city.

“We’re at my house in Westport, a little over fifty miles from the city. Here the media may lurk, but they can’t get in. We’ll be safe here, I promise.” I brushed my lips along her hairline.

After exiting the car and walking around, I reached for her hand to help her out. I felt bad for her. I couldn’t lose Jax. I held her tighter than I ever had before the paparazzi intervened in our lives.

My firm grip was glued around her small hand as I escorted her up the steps. Morgan, the house manager, waited for us with the front door open.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Taylorson. After receiving word of your impending arrival, we started preparing your rooms and meals.”

“Thanks, Morgan. This is Jax St. Pierre.” I gave a quick introduction. Although Jax wasn’t feeling her best, she graciously shook Morgan’s hand.

I led her to the living room couch, where I tucked her into my lap, folding my arms around her anxious body. I couldn’t lose her already. Not like this. When Jax drew away, my heart sank to the bottom of my chest.

“I need a computer. And a phone,” she glared expectantly.

I nodded and stood, flooded with enough anxious energy to send me in the wrong direction in my own house.

A short while later, I returned with my extra phone and laptop. She fired up the computer as soon as it hit her restless hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it so no one will know I’m using or have used your computer.”

Was that even possible? It was starting to sound like she was about to do something illegal.

“What are you going to do, Jax?” Concerned, I got in her face to ensure she answered me.

“I’m going to figure out where that damn drone came from or at least where it’s at. If we don’t have a sex tape out already, I’m going to do my best to stop it from getting out.”

“You can do that?”

The mischievous glint in her eyes and the cunning twist of her lips revealed she was about to put action to what she had expressed.

With calls of my own to make, I eased up to the window with my cell Paul had retrieved from the car. I alerted my team, praying at least one knew how to put an end to what was brewing.

My next call was to my father. He had dealt with several situations of this magnitude; therefore, his advice and guidance would be invaluable.

“I will call Mark Romero, see if he could help you fix this,” my father said. Mark was our family lawyer and fixer. There wasn’t much he wasn’t able to find a solution to.

While my father spoke of who could fix what problem, I couldn’t help tuning into the side of Jax’s conversation that I could hear.

“TK, I need you.” Jax sounded desperate. And of all people, she had called TK. He had appeared crazy enough for her to be willing to kill us all?

Nonstop, they chatted. Her speaking their secret, virtually indecipherable language.

“Chase, are you listening?” My father yelled, his voice loud enough through the phone to make Jax glance up.

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