Page 6 of Dangerous Lies

She was anything but fine. Megan was crashing from the adrenaline surgethat could easily spiral into shock. Fresh concern coursed through Jax, tangled with a sharp wave of guilt. She’d been threatened, and Jax hadn’t believed her. He’d outright accused her of lying.

“I’ve got Megan.” Jax steered her toward his SUV. “Secure the scene, Tucker. And call Noah. He’s the lead investigator.”

Tucker nodded, reaching for the radio secured on his shoulder as he headed toward the other officer at the tree line. Jax hurried across the grassy median with Megan, the SUV’s headlights blinking as they approached. The vehicle unlocked automatically, thanks to the fob in his pocket. Megan stumbled, nearly collapsing onto the asphalt, but Jax’s firm grip kept her upright.

Jax opened the rear hatch and guided her toward it. “Sit.”

She did as he instructed, hugging herself in a poor attempt to ward off the shakes. Jax quickly located his first-aid kit. “What happened?”

“He hid in my vehicle behind the seat. I didn’t see him until he held a gun to my throat.”

Jax wrapped an insulated blanket around her shoulders. Megan wasn’t petite, but her willowy frame and delicate features gave her a vulnerable appearance. Freckles dusted her upturned nose. The mascara coating her long lashes had smeared under her eyes, and the haunted look in those mahogany-colored orbs hit him with another wave of guilt.

He cracked a heat pack, activating the chemicals, and pressed it into her hands. “Did you recognize him?”

She shook her head. “He wore a ski mask. Told me that if I did what he said, he wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t believe him, so when he ordered me to turn onto a smaller dirt road, I slowed down to escape the vehicle.” Her hand drifted to the matted blood in her hair. “He hit me with the gun while I was undoing my seat belt.”

Anger heated Jax’s blood. A man kidnapping a woman at gunpoint and pistol-whipping her was abhorrent. No matter his personal feelings about Megan, she didn’t deserve this.

Jax gently lowered her hand from her wound and pressed a cold pack against the swollen goose egg. “Did he tell you where he was taking you?”

“No.” Megan winced as the pack made contact.

“Sorry.” He adjusted it, his tone soft. This close, he caught a faint whiff of her perfume, something light with a hint of vanilla. It felt strange to be this close to her. Jax didn’t hate her—not exactly. Years in law enforcement had taught him that sometimes good people make terrible choices, especially when drugs and alcohol are involved. Megan wasn’t evil, but he blamed her for Oliver’s death and the pain it brought his family.

The investigation—his push to prove her guilty of negligent homicide—might have put her in the crosshairs. Knoxville was a small town, and the Taylors were well-liked. Had someone loyal to his family decided to take justice into their own hands? Based on the threats Megan had received, it seemed likely. Jax wasn’t responsible for her attack tonight—the man who assaulted her was—but it didn’t ease his conscience one bit.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he focused on tonight’s attack. “Did you recognize his voice?”

Her brows furrowed as she considered the question. “If I did, it didn’t register. I was scared and focused on surviving. He shot at me as I ran into the woods but missed. I tried to outrun him, but that didn’t work, so I hid.” Her lips quivered as she pressed them together. “He found me. We fought, and then I ran into you while trying to get back to my car.”

Their gazes met, and the gratitude in Megan’s eyes did funny things to him. Jax didn’t want to dwell on the implications of saving her life. It was his job. He’d do it again without hesitation, but everything that’d transpired tonight had created a mass of confusing feelings he didn’t know how to untangle. Nor did he want to.

It was easier to be angry with her.

Jax asked Megan a few more follow-up questions, but none of her answers provided a clue as to the attacker’s identity. Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in the back of an ambulance, being tended to by paramedics.

Noah had arrived on the scene, and as Jax crossed the road to join him, their boss, Chief Sam Garcia, pulled up in his unmarked SUV. The chief’s uniform was freshly ironed, but whiskers shadowed his usually clean-shaven jaw, and exhaustion weighed heavily on his posture. Jax knew his boss had left work on time that evening—an uncommon occurrence for a man known to work ten- or twelve-hour days. Jax imagined the chief was frustrated about being pulled into the cold night, but not a hint of that complaint was anywhere in his expression as he approached.

Chief Garcia greeted both detectives with a curt nod. “Report.”

Jax walked him through everything they knew so far, starting with the threatening emails Megan had received and ending with the assailant’s escape. “I think he had a boat tied to the old ramp and used it to get away.”

Noah let out a low whistle. “If that’s the case, this was an extremely well-planned attack. Knoxville is only five miles away, an easy distance to walk or run. So the assailant brings a boat here, ties it to the old ramp, runs to town, breaks into Megan’s car, lies in wait, then holds her at gunpoint and forces her to drive here.”

“But did he plan to take her on the boat?” Garcia asked. “Or did he plan to kill her?”

None of them could answer with certainty, but Jax had a theory. “He shot at her when she was escaping. I think the plan was always to kill her. It would’ve been easy to murder her, then use the boat ramp to drive her Toyota into the lake. Then he uses his boat to get back home or to his car.”

Noah nodded. “This route isn’t anywhere near Megan’s house. No one would think to look for her here, and by hiding her car, it would’ve appeared as if she left town on her own.”

The thought of how close the killer had come to succeeding made Jax’s stomach churn. His gaze shifted to the back of the ambulance. Through the open doors, Megan sat on a stretcher with blankets piled over her lap and an ice pack pressed against her head.

“Whoever is behind this won’t stop.” Years of working undercover had taught Jax plenty about criminals. Most acted out of desperation or self-preservation, but there were always a few who identified with a mission. Those were the most dangerous. “He failed this time, but I think he’ll try again.”

“I’m afraid I agree with you.” Garcia rocked back on his heels, his expression grim. “I want to see these emails as soon as possible. We’ll need to comb the entire crime scene for evidence. Megan’s vehicle will be towed to the state evidence shed for processing—fingerprints, DNA, anything we can find. If we’re lucky, the guy wasn’t wearing gloves when he broke into her car.”

“He wore a ski mask,” Noah added, his tone thoughtful, “which suggests the attacker is someone Megan knows. If this is connected to the threatening emails—and I don’t see why it wouldn’t be—then the perpetrator is probably local.”

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