Page 33 of Dangerous Lies

God, I put my trust in You. Protect Jax and Jason, my grandparents, Kyle. Give us the wisdom and strength to do what’s right—no matter what comes next.

The prayer steadied her. Unlike before, fear didn’t paralyze her—it sharpened her focus. The drone buzzed overhead. Through the thick foliage, she caught only glimpses of its dark frame, but then the wind shifted, revealing a clear view of the weapon strapped to its underside.

Not a flamethrower this time.

An assault rifle.

“He can’t see us,” Jax murmured.

The drone hovered, its camera swiveling, searching. The seconds stretched, unbearably long, until—finally—it veered away, speeding toward the lake.

Relief crashed over Megan.

“Let’s go.” Jax tugged her to her feet. Then he turned to Jason. “I’ll get Megan to the house. See if you can find the pilot.”

“On it.” Jason’s face hardened, all sharp angles and battle-honed focus. Sunlight caught the scar on his left cheek. He gave a quick command to Connor, and the German shepherd leapt to his side. In a blink, they vanished into the trees.

“We have to run, Megan. The house provides more safety, but we have to get across the yard before the drone comes back.” Jax’s words were clipped and hurried. “I need you to focus on getting to the house. Don’t worry about anything else. Got it?”

Her gaze swept over the long expanse of the yard, separating their hiding spot from the house. Fear clawed at her chest, threatening to take hold, but she forced it back. She could do this. Shewoulddo this. Their lives depended on it. Jax would never leave her, and the longer they stayed out in the open, the greater the risk that someone would be hurt.

She met Jax’s gaze. His expression was calm and controlled, but in the depths of his dark blue eyes, she recognized the fear. Not for himself. For her. Without thinking, Megan rose onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. The kiss was featherlight, but it sent a shockwave through her system.

Then she turned on her heel and did as Jax instructed.

She ran for the house.

NINETEEN

The next morning, Jax sat on the Ingles’s front porch, bundled against the icy cold as he watched the sky lighten with the rising sun. Sleep had been elusive. He wasn’t sure if it was the case or the memory of Megan’s kiss that had kept him up all night. Either way, he was bone-tired, on edge, and utterly confused. Not even a long run on the property had cleared his head.

Tires crunched over the driveway as a Knoxville Police Department vehicle arrived. Dawson climbed out, carrying two takeaway cups of coffee. His boots thumped against the porch steps. “Morning.” He handed over one of the coffees. “Triple expresso. Figured you’d need all the caffeine you could get, considering you texted me at three in the morning.”

Jax grunted and took a sip of the dark brew, but not even that could cut through the fog in his brain. “Megan survived yesterday’s drone attack by the grace of God, but the killer isn’t letting up. We still don’t know who is behind this or even why she’s being targeted.”

Jason and Connor had attempted to apprehend the drone pilot, but he’d escaped before they could. A neighbor reported seeing a dark blue or black Explorer parked on a dirt road around the time of the attack, but he had thought little of it—people often used that path for fishing.

No description of the driver. No license plate numbers.

They had nothing. More than a week into the investigation, and they were still no closer to uncovering the truth. It was demoralizing. Frustrating. Terrifying. Jax had designed layers upon layers of protection for Megan, and still, it almost hadn’t been enough. If the drone had flown lower… if the shooter had fired indiscriminately… things could have gone very differently.

Dawson tossed his cowboy hat onto the small table before settling into a rocking chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. The stillness of the morning settled around them, broken only by the chirping of birds waking from slumber. It should have been soothing. Instead, it only heightened Jax’s anxiety.

He slanted a glance at his old friend. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Dawson twisted the coffee cup in his massive hands. He was dressed for work in BDU-style pants and a thick jacket. A crisp wind swept across the porch, ruffling his light brown hair, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “We located the purchase order for the drone you shot down. The one that was pulled from the lake. Wesley bought it six months ago, shortly after moving back to Knoxville.”

The news hit Jax like a punch to the chest. His grip tightened around the coffee cup. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” Dawson sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this—I don’t want to be saying it—but Wesley has always been the primary suspect in this case. He has the means, the motive, and the capabilities of pulling something like this off. Zeke’s involvement never made much sense.”

“What are you talking about? The man has practically disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“True. We tracked down all the friends Megan told us about. No one has heard or seen from Zeke in ten years, except for his family. That’s strange, I grant you, but Zeke has no real reason to come after Megan now. Especially if he’s living somewhere else under a new name. Attacking her would only draw more attention to him, not less.” Dawson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re pursuing two cases at once. Oliver’s accident and these attacks against Megan. There’s never been proof that the same person is responsible for both.”

“So what? You think Zeke ran Oliver and Megan off the road and then just disappeared?”

“I think it’s likely.” Dawson grimaced. “We finally got the files from the sheriff’s department. Oliver was an informant for them, just as you suspected. I think Zeke found out somehow and attacked Oliver.”

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