Page 43 of Dangerous Lies

A mirror of his own emotions. He reached for her, raising his voice to be heard over the storm. “Megan…”

“I couldn’t save him. I tried, Jax. I tried so hard.” She let out a choked sob. “For years, I thought it should’ve been me who died. Some part of me still does.”

“No!” He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the ditch, and lightly grabbed her forearms. Her raincoat was slick against his bare hands, her slender form curved inward, weighted down with a decade of guilt. Jax shook her slightly, and Megan raised her face to meet his desperate gaze. “I’m grateful you survived. Do you hear me? What happened wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t even Oliver’s fault. The only person responsible for what happened is the man who ran you off the road.”

Lightning streaked across the sky, sending a fresh shot of adrenaline through him. Thunder rumbled in the distance. They needed to get out of the storm. Jax guided her back to the truck, securing her inside before making a careful three-point turn. The wind shoved at the vehicle like invisible hands as they headed away from the crash site.

Megan hadn’t said a word. Her blonde hair clung to her face in damp tendrils, rain mixing with the tear that tracked down her cheek.

Jax reached across the console and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here?—”

“No.” Her chin trembled. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

“That I’m grateful you survived.”

Megan nodded, her lips pressed together as if she was holding back a wave of tears. She shifted closer, as much as her seat belt allowed, and rested her head against his arm. “Thank you, Jax.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then let his cheek linger there for a moment. That centered feeling washed over him again. The push-pull of their relationship, the way each of them bared their soul to the other… there was safety and love and respect.

He didn’t feel alone. Not in his grief, not in his anger, not in his heartache. But it was more than that. Megan saw him. He’d had girlfriends in the past that were easy to be around when things were light. But when tough times came, they bailed. Megan was the first person he could laugh with, and the first person he could cry with. He could be himself.

And that realization brought with it another powerful truth.

He was in love with her. Not falling in love. Not possibly in love.

In love.

Headlights flickered on the road ahead. The storm made it difficult to see, but the vehicle was big—an SUV or a truck.

Megan sat up. “There’s Noah.”

Jax’s muscles stiffened. His foot eased off the gas. Noah was supposed to meet them out there, and it was likely his vehicle heading their direction, but logic didn’t silence the whispered warning running through Jax.

“Megan, get down in your seat?—”

A burst of gunfire shattered the windshield.

TWENTY-FOUR

Pebbles of shattered glass rained down on Megan.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as bullets tore through the SUV’s front end. She’d ducked at Jax’s command, and the move had saved her life. Frigid air and rain howled through the gaping windshield as she fumbled with her seat belt, her trembling fingers slipping against the latch. Finally, it released. She slid down into the wheel well, pressing herself into the smallest space possible.

The SUV lurched in reverse, tires skidding against the slick road as Jax maneuvered them away from the gunfire.

Her gaze snapped to him. He was shouting into his phone, his voice raw with urgency, while simultaneously steering through the storm. Dash lights illuminated his face. Raindrops clung to his lashes, trailing over the hard edges of his jaw, where dark stubble shadowed his skin. Determination powered every movement. Megan had never been more terrified in her life, but she knew, without a doubt, Jax would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

He tossed the phone in the cup holder. “Megan, are you hit?”

“No.” The answer came automatically, but then she did a quick scan of her body. Adrenaline could be masking an injury, but she didn’t feel any pain. She was okay. Her gaze traveled the length of Jax’s torso, and a fresh jolt of fear shot straight through her.

Blood dripped from his jacket sleeve, trailing over his fingers.

Her stomach bottomed out. “You’ve been shot!”

“I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth. The truck hurtled backward, but another sound cut through the chaos—the sickening thump-thump of rubber slapping against asphalt.

They had a flat. Maybe two.

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