Page 7 of Dangerous Lies

“Agreed.” Garcia’s sharp, steely gaze landed on Jax. “Detective, may I speak with you privately for a moment?”

Jax nodded and followed his boss a few steps away. The chief’s expression was a hard mask of professionalism, but there was a hint of regret buried in his dark eyes. “I’m sorry to ask this, but it has to be done. Could your brother Wesley be responsible for this?”

Jax stiffened. “No, sir.” The words were spoken automatically and emphatically. “No one in my family would do this. Including Wesley.”

“Your brother has the brains and the knowledge to pull something like this off. He has a temper and has been in trouble with the law before?—”

“Years ago. As a teenager.” A bad temper was an inherited trait among the Taylor men, Jax included. These questions were striking against that temper, like flint against steel, but he was smart enough to keep his tone even. “Wesley hasn’t stepped out of line since leaving the military. He barely leaves his cabin these days.”

Jax’s younger brother—Oliver’s fraternal twin—had once been adventurous and daring. Quick to laugh, impossibly intelligent, and popular were words everyone used to describe him. Now Wesley was a shell of his former self. A stint in the military that’d included numerous deployments and months as a prisoner of war had scarred him in every way. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He lived off the grid in a log cabin he’d built by hand on a swatch of land that’d once belonged to their grandparents.

Chief Garcia lifted his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Can you think of anyone else who might be capable of this?”

“No, sir.”

The assault had been too meticulously planned for the average criminal. As much as Jax loathed to admit it, the chief had a point. Wesley was smart enough, and had the skills, to pull an attack like this off. Grief could twist and morph into anger and hatred, but murder? Jax wouldn’t believe his brother was capable of it.

Arguing that point wouldn’t get him far with the chief, but logic could. “If Wesley was behind this, Megan would be dead. He wouldn’t have given her an opening to escape, and he wouldn’t have missed the shot when she ran into the woods. He’s an expert sharpshooter.”

The chief was quiet for a long moment and sighed. “Based on your brother’s military record, you may be right. I still have to question him though.”

Jax felt a surge of protectiveness, but battled it back and gave a sharp nod. Chief Garcia was only doing his job. Once Wesley was eliminated as a suspect, the investigation would turn toward finding the real perpetrator.

Chief Garcia settled his hat back on his head. “I’ll interview Megan. Then I want you to go with her to the hospital. Until we know what we’re dealing with, I want her protected. Don’t leave her side for any reason.”

Jax stiffened. Saving Megan’s life tonight had been about duty. Taking on the role as her bodyguard, however, felt like a betrayal to his brother’s memory. “Sir, I’d prefer that assignment go to someone else. And I’m sure Megan would too, given the history between us.”

“I understand your feelings, Detective, and Megan’s, but based on what we know so far, someone thinks killing her will get justice for Oliver.” Chief Garcia gave him a knowing look. “By protecting Megan, you’re sending the message that this isn’t what your family wants.”

Jax’s back teeth clenched. He wanted to argue, to insist someone else take the assignment, but once again, the chief had a good point. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to nod. “Understood, sir.”

Chief Garcia nodded and then marched toward Megan in the ambulance. She was still pale, but someone—probably the paramedic—had wiped the blood and dirt off her face. Jax’s stomach churned. The doubts Noah planted earlier tonight were sprouting roots and growing. Megan had been telling the truth about the threatening emails. Which begged the question: what else was she being honest about? Had Jax made a terrible mistake in assuming she was lying about the accident?

And in doing so, had he put her in danger?

FIVE

Megan opened her eyes, and panic gripped her chest. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, the bedsheets felt rough and scratchy against her skin. Her heart rate spiked, and the pounding in her head intensified. Nausea churned as the remnants of a nightmare—running through the woods, chased by a masked killer—collided with the disorienting reality of her surroundings.

“You’re okay.” Movement on her left preceded a firm hand taking hers. The touch was unfamiliar. She turned her head to find Jax sitting in a chair next to her bed. His chin and cheeks were covered in thick whiskers, his dark hair a tousled mess as though he’d been running his hands through it. Faint morning light filtered through the window behind him.

Jax’s brows creased with concern. “Are you in pain? I can call a nurse.”

She shook her head to stop him, wincing at the sharp throb that followed the movement. The pain was manageable, a dull ache compared to the vivid terror of the nightmare that’d left her heart racing. Her surroundings sharpened into focus. A hospital room. She remembered being admitted last night for observation after being diagnosed with a concussion. It’d taken ten stitches in her scalp to close the wound from the pistol-whipping. Tests, bloodwork, an MRI, and a litany of paperwork had left her drained. She must’ve fallen asleep.

Jax released her hand and poured water into a cup. He held it to her lips, and the cool liquid soothed her parched throat. She felt as weak as a newborn, her hands trembling as she reached to take the cup from him. Megan drank again, the second sip easing her headache slightly more.

He frowned. “You look pale, like you’re hurting. The doctor said you could have pain medication. I’ll call a nurse?—”

“No.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. His shirtsleeve was soft beneath her fingertips. “As a former addict, I avoid taking prescription pain medication if I can help it.” Megan hadn’t used drugs in over ten years, but she was hyper-aware of how fragile that recovery could be. She drew in a breath and some of her nausea faded. “I’ll be okay. How long have I been asleep?”

“Only a few hours.” Jax reclaimed the chair next to her bed. He was still wearing the same clothes from last night. The man hadn’t left her side since climbing into the ambulance, except for the brief time she was changing into a hospital gown.

Jax’s protection was both awkward and comforting. Guilt, heartbreak, and anger were intrinsic to all their interactions, and yet, Megan knew he would never let anyone to harm her. He’d proven that last night when he saved her life. The gratitude she felt added a layer to their already complicated relationship. Megan wasn’t sure how to navigate the tangled mess.

“Is it common to avoid pain medication?” Jax asked, cutting through Megan’s thoughts. “For addicts, I mean.”

“Everyone is different, but as a general rule, it’s a good idea to avoid any addictive substances. Oxy was my drug of choice, so I’m especially careful with any kind of pain medication. I also have regular check-ins with my sponsor. Prayer helps too. Recovery isn’t a one-and-done thing. It’s a decision you make every day.”

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