Page 8 of Dangerous Lies

“I’ve known a lot of addicts in my life, but none that were sober. Working undercover for the ATF might’ve given me a skewed perception of drug abuse.” His gaze grew distant, as if he was seeing something in his mind’s eye. “When Oliver started using, I couldn’t understand it. He had a football scholarship, excellent grades, a family that loved him. Yes, he struggled after his friend died in a car accident, but why throw his life away? It made me angry, and I didn’t respond well.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. There’s not a guidebook to tell you how to navigate such a difficult situation.” Megan’s heart tightened at the pain in his voice. “Oliver loved you very much. Deep down, we both knew that what we were doing was wrong, but drugs got rid of the pain. It’s an escape.”

Jax tilted his head. “What were you escaping?”

“My mom died. That’s why I moved to Knoxville to live with my grandparents. When I met Oliver, he understood me. We were both grieving. Drugs were a terrible way to cope, but neither of us understood the hurt we were causing to ourselves or others. Addiction changes your brain. It makes you lose sight of everything except your next fix.” She handed him the empty cup before resting her head against the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“My grandparents will be here soon.” Nana and Pops had rushed to the hospital the moment they learned Megan had been attacked. Once the doctor assured everyone she’d make a full recovery, Megan had convinced them to go home and get a few hours of sleep. “What are the chances they’ll bring coffee?”

“I’d say better than average.” Pops entered the room, carrying a tray of takeout coffees. His thick gray beard and full head of hair gave him a rugged, lumberjack look, especially paired with the flannel shirts he favored. Years ago, a nasty fall on a roofing job had left him with a slight limp, but nothing could diminish his steady strength.

He kissed Megan’s forehead. “Hi, Ladybug.” His gaze drifted to Jax and narrowed. “Detective.”

There was no love lost between Clay Ingles and the Taylor family. Jax may have saved Megan’s life last night, but her grandfather didn’t consider that payment enough for all the pain their accusations had caused his granddaughter. Still, she appreciated the fact that Pops was cordial… even if it was grudgingly.

Nana bustled into the room on her husband’s heels, her silver hair soft and fluffed like a cloud, rosy cheeks flushed with the brisk morning air. She carried a tray covered with aluminum foil. Megan’s mouth watered as the scent of yeasty bread filled the room. Rose Ingles had worked in a bakery for most of her career and, although she’d retired fifteen years ago, retained all her skills.

“I brought breakfast,” Nana said. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.” Megan wanted to weep with joy when her grandmother lifted the aluminum foil to reveal homemade kolaches. She’d missed dinner last night and, with the head injury, hadn’t felt like eating much anyway. But now her hunger roared to life. It was probably why she was still nauseated.

Jax rose from his chair. “I’ll step outside for a bit. Give you some time to talk.”

“Not without a kolache you won’t.” Nana gave him a pointed look, her soft smile leaving no room for argument. Unlike Pops, she held no grudges against Jax or his family. She’d counseled Megan to be patient with the Taylor family, to be understanding of the painful loss they’d suffered, and to forgive their need to throw misplaced blame on her shoulders.

Nana handed Jax a kolache wrapped in a napkin before turning to her husband. “Clay, give Jax his coffee, please.”

Pops grumbled under his breath but complied, holding the cup out stiffly.

Jax took it with a nod. “Thank you, sir.” He lifted the wrapped kolache and tipped his head in Nana’s direction. “Ma’am.” His gaze finally landed on Megan and his tone was soft as he said, “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.”

Her heart inexplicably skipped a beat. Before she could think much of it, Jax was already halfway across the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Pops let out a frustrated sigh. “How long is he going to be hanging around for? I appreciate that Chief Garcia is taking these threats seriously, but I don’t trust that fellow. He’s caused us a lot of grief over the last few months.”

“He saved my life, Pops.” She gave her grandfather a knowing look. “I think that wipes the slate clean.”

Pops grunted in reply. Then he handed Megan her coffee, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “That reminds me. I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other, Ladybug. Why didn’t you tell us about the threatening emails you’d been receiving?”

Nana shot him a warning look. “Now, Clay?—”

“No, Nana. Pops is right.” Megan hated to disappoint her grandparents. She’d done it far too often. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about the emails weeks ago, but I didn’t want to worry you.”

Her grandfather’s posture eased, the hardness in his eyes softening to something closer to hurt. “Keeping us in the dark doesn’t stop us from worrying about you. It only hurts our feelings. Family takes care of each other.”

It was a motto he lived by. And it wasn’t just words. When Megan’s mother died of a sudden heart attack, her paternal grandparents had taken in a terrified and lost teenager without a whisper of complaint. Megan had repaid their love and support by rebelling. It was only after getting clean that she realized what a treasure her grandparents truly were. They were all the family she had left, and the only connection she had to her biological father who’d died when Megan was a baby.

Warmth flooded through her as Nana wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We love you, honey. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I love you too.” Megan’s voice wavered as the reality of what had almost happened last night finally sank into her.

A knock interrupted the moment. Megan quickly swiped at the tear running down her cheek as Chief Garcia entered. His uniform was rumpled—probably from working most of the night—and the shadows under his eyes resembled bruises. Still, he offered Clay and Rose a warm smile and shook both of their hands before turning his attention to Megan. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you.” The coffee and her grandmother’s homemade kolache had eased her headache. She adjusted the blankets around her waist, feeling slightly embarrassed to be speaking to the chief while wearing a hospital gown. A silly thing, considering she’d nearly been killed last night, but still…

Nana, ever perceptive, reached into a bag and pulled out a shawl. Megan gratefully wrapped it around her shoulders while her grandfather offered the chief one of Nana’s kolaches.

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