Dirty Little Secrets (25 page)

Her husband and now her father.

James thought he might be sick. The anger in him swelled, nothing he did could push it down, and nothing could stop him thinking about the people who had hurt and betrayed Megan. He could not be another one.

He opened his briefcase as Daryl continued to speak, listing every transgression, every secret, each personal detail of Megan’s life. He felt physically sick listening; James was betraying her just by listening. He had no right to know these things. These were Megan’s secrets to share or keep. No one deserved to know these things.

There was no choice. When he left DC he thought there was, but when it came down to it, the only thing he could do was protect Megan. He had spent the last five hours weighing the situation, debating the ethics of every choice. What he was about to do was wrong, immoral, unethical. It violated every principle he held dear, every value that separated him from his father.

But none of it mattered.

Megan mattered. Protecting her mattered. Making her happy mattered.

James cleared his throat. He reckoned he would agonise over his decision but in the end it was easy. “You understand I will need you to sign a confidentiality agreement. My company gets an exclusive if you want to see a penny. The story is ours and ours exclusively. We decide when to run it. If anything pertinent to Mrs. McCoy appears from any other news organisation, you will see nothing and you will be held liable. Do you understand? GMN can and will sue you. You can speak to no one about what we discussed today. Megan McCoy does not exist for you any more. Anyone asks about her, you shake your head and tell them you have never heard of the woman,” James added pointedly hoping to hit home exactly what exclusive meant.

Daryl nodded, dollar signs flashing in his eyes. James handed the man a copy of the contract as he stood to leave. He could not be there any longer. His hatred of the man was mixing with the disdain for himself and wrapping its hands around his lungs, squeezing out all life. He needed to get away. Suddenly he understood Megan’s need to run.

James got back in his rental and drove until he was out of sight. He pulled over on the side of the road and pounded the steering wheel with his fisted hands. He sat back and closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. His mind raced, circling in on itself in a frantic fugue, nothing he could do would stop it.

After several minutes James let out a stream of air as he opened his eyes, ready to face the world again. He turned on his cell phone and instantly regretted his decision: along with a message from Megan, telling him to have a good day and asking him to phone when he got a chance, there was a message from the private investigator he has hired to look into the death of Seth Blair.

James shook his head. “When it rains, it fucking pours.”

***

It was after midnight by the time James landed in DC. He needed to see Megan. He felt dirty and angry and other emotions he could not explain. He just needed to see her; intuitively he knew nothing would feel right until he saw her, held her. He needed Megan now.

James drove past his house and continued on to the McCoy residence. He didn’t care who saw them. When he rang the doorbell, Ben answered, his eyes widening when he saw James. Obviously he did not expect his wife’s lover to pitch up on his doorstep.

“I need to see Megan.”

“She’s asleep,” Ben said but James was already taking the stairs two at a time.

He didn’t bother knocking on her bedroom door.

“Megan,” he whispered into the inky darkness. He fumbled for the light switch. “Megan.”

Megan stirred in her bed, turning over as he called her name a third time. “Hi,” she murmured groggily. A wide smile appeared across her face and the glacier in the pit of his stomach began to thaw. He remembered why he had done it.

There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much that needed saying, needed explained. “Megan, I need you,” was all he could manage.

Megan jumped up from the bed and ran to the en suite. “Hold that thought.” She returned seconds later, her electric toothbrush buzzing as she cleaned her teeth. “I want to kiss you,” she said by way of explanation. The toothbrush sent a splattering of white foamy droplets across the room.

“Megan,” he said. He sat down on her bed. He did not have any energy left. Everything he had to give was gone.

Megan stopped brushing her teeth and rushed to him, dropping to her knees in front of him. She reached for his hands. “James what’s wrong.” Her fair brows were pinched together in concern.

James pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his head heavy against her chest. “I need you, Megan.”

She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. Her hands went to his face, lifting it until he was staring into her pale blue eyes. “I’m here, James. Please tell me what’s wrong. What can I do? Tell me what you need me to do. What do you need? I’ll do it.” Her voice was solemn and unwavering.

At that moment he knew she would do anything he asked of her. He also knew something else: all those feelings he could not put a name to—the anger at people who hurt her, the jealousy, the desire to protect her—it was so clear now. He would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

James pulled Megan onto his lap. “I did something I’m ashamed of and proud of at the same time. I feel shitty and good about myself. Mostly shitty,” he admitted. He pulled her in closer until he could feel the steady beat of her heart against his.

Megan placed her hands on either side of him and held his face in her hands. “Whatever you did, we can fix it. I happen to be a kickass trial lawyer.” Her voice cracked. She was trying to joke. She tried to smile but the corners of her mouth barely rose, they could not get past the fear that held her face frozen. “Whatever it is, I will do whatever I can. Just tell me and I will fix it. Please just tell me.”

He almost smiled. He had her loyalty. If there was ever any question in his mind, he knew now. She was trying to protect him. He had no doubt she would come out arms swinging, if he needed her. “One of my reporters got a call from Daryl Jackson this morning.”

He felt Megan’s body go rigid against him. A look of complete terror settled on her face. He had never seen her scared. She was Megan, his brash, fearless woman. He fought the urge to not tell her any more. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she had been; he wanted to protect her from everything.

But he also needed her; he needed her to tell him he had done the right thing. He needed her to tell him it wasn’t like when his father buried stories and manipulated the media. She was the only person who could reassure him now. “He wanted to sell a story on you. A tell-all.”

Megan didn’t say anything; it was like she was frozen. “Megan, I paid him off. I bought his story, made him sign a contract. He can’t hurt you.”

Megan’s chest was moving up and down with rapid shallow breathes. Her eyes clouded over. “Megan, please tell me I am not my father.”

Megan shook her head. Her lip began to shake. “No James, you’re nothing like your father. You are…” Megan turned her head as a tear slid down her cheek.

“Megan, please don’t cry. I fixed it. He can’t hurt you. I promise. I’ll pay off every cocksucking scumbag that climbs out of the swamps and tries to hurt you.”

Megan turned back to him, her blue eyes flooded with unshed tears. “Kind. You’re kind. That is what I was going to say. I have never known anybody so kind. I don’t know why you are so nice to me.”

“Because I…” James stopped himself before he said something to push her away. “Because you deserve someone to be kind to you.”

Megan held her hands over her eyes and cried. Her body shook with it as she silently wept. James brought her in close to his chest but didn’t say anything. He just held her while she cried. He knew it had been far too long since she had. Gently he kissed the top of her head.

Eventually she righted herself. Her blue eyes shone against the bloodshot backdrop. “Did you speak to him? My stepfather?”

“I did.”

Megan pulled back so she could see his face. She took a deep breath as a fresh spring of tears formed in her eyes. She had not seen Daryl Jackson is almost fifteen years but he still had the ability to make her blood run cold. “Was he here in DC? Is he here now?” Her voice betrayed her by cracking. She was a grown woman. She did not have to be scared of him or anyone else any more.

“No, I went to Mississippi.”

Megan shook her head; a fresh panic clawed at her stomach. “You were in Tally?” She prayed that she had misheard him. She didn’t want to imagine James there, her kind, strong James, in a place so ugly. “What did he tell you?”

James shook his head. “Nothing important. He’s just a useless piece of shit trying to eke out his fifteen minutes.”

“No, tell me what he told you. What did he say? I need to know.”

James hesitated before he said. “Nothing newsworthy. You’re safe. He can’t sell his story.”

Megan laughed bitterly. “His story? His story is a tale of a pathetic drunk who likes to terrorise women and children. He wanted to sell my story. What did he tell you? I can tell you are holding back. Just tell me.” There was a distance between them that words could not cross.

He held her hands in his, encircling her with long fingers. She noted again how physically powerful he was, how much strength he had. But his hands only ever gave her pleasure, never pain. “Nothing, Megan. He did not tell me anything that changes who you are or how I feel about you.”

“Please tell me everything. I can’t defend myself if I don’t know what he said.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself. I don’t give a shit about anything he said. You never have to defend yourself to me or anyone else. Please don’t let anyone ever make you think you need to justify the choices you made.”

A coldness settled on her.

He knew.

She wasn’t ashamed. She had made the only choice she could at the time. Her only regret was allowing herself to be put in that position. If she had been stronger she would have gotten out sooner. She bit into her lip until she tasted blood. “Did he tell you his name?”

James did not pretend to not understand what she was asking. He nodded slowly. “You don’t have to tell me, Megan. It’s none of my business. It’s no one’s business. I’ll make sure no one ever finds out.”

Megan stood up. She needed to put some space between them. She needed to think, figure out how she felt. James was never supposed to know her, let alone know her secrets. She felt vulnerable and exposed. “What else did he tell you?”

James ran a hand through his hair. “Megan, we don’t need to do this. It’s over.”

It wasn’t over. It was over for Megan when no one in her life knew about her past. It was very much a real living, life-sucking creature now that James knew. “Just tell me.” She did not mean to sound harsh but adrenaline shaped her tone. She closed her eyes. “Start at the beginning. I need to hear it all.”

James sighed. “He told me about the money you stole.”

Megan’s head snapped up. “He what?!” she demanded. “He told you I stole money?” She could only shake her head. But then a slow realisation dawned on her. “How much did he say I took?”

James stood up and reached for her but she stepped back. “Just tell me.”

“He said you stole a thousand dollars and ran off to New York. Where you…” James didn’t finish, but he did not need to.

Fresh tears burned in her eyes. “That pathetic woman. She told him I stole from him because she is a weak, spineless waste of skin.” Megan laughed through her tears, at her own stupidity, that she could still be hurt by her mother. She should expect it from her, but somehow this betrayal hurt as badly as the first. “I didn’t steal anything. My mother gave me that money to get away. It was the only truly selfless thing she ever did.”

James opened his mouth to speak but she knew if he interrupted her, she might never get it out, and it needed to be said. “He told you about Pete. He was my second real boyfriend. The first boy I thought I loved. I was so fucked up I thought what happened between us was love.” Megan backed up further until her back was hard against the wall. “It started out fun. He was older than me, he had a car. He was so sophisticated. And by that I mean he could swear in more than one language.” Megan shook her head at her teenage self, the pathetic girl she no longer recognised.

She opened her eyes long enough to see James seated on the bed. He did not make a move towards her. He was giving her the space she needed. “It started off so slowly. The first time he hit me was after a math test. I was talking to Daniel Jenkins. Pete thought I was making a fool of him, flirting with another guy. I wasn’t. Not that it matters, but I wasn’t. He smacked me across the face. I was…shocked…sad…surprised…I don’t know what I was, I was a stupid kid. After he was so apologetic, he bought me flowers told me how much he loved me. Said it was my fault because he loved me so much and I should know not to push him.” Megan covered her eyes again. She sounded so pathetic. She had heard the story so many times from battered women coming in to testify, but hearing the words out of her own mouth disgusted her. It made her sick that she had allowed herself to be that woman.

“He was nice for a while, but then I did something else and he gave me a black eye. Of course he apologised and told me he loved me. And what did I know? That is what love looked like in my house too. We had established our pattern: he hit me, he apologised, and then he hit me again.” A chill ran the length of her spine. The years had done nothing to dampen the shame. If she could tell women anything, give them one piece of advice to keep them safe, it would be once you have established a pattern of violence, you are stuck. Fear and habit can keep you trapped forever. “Things escalated, it wasn’t just a slap here and there, it was fists and kicking and then…” She stopped to fortify herself. Once it was out there it could never be taken back. She couldn’t pretend any more. She took a deep breath. “Then he started forcing me to do things when he was beating me. In my mind it wasn’t rape. It couldn’t be. I wasn’t a virgin and I had sex with him willingly before that. Everyone knew I was a slut anyway. God I was so stupid.” She crossed her arms around herself in a protective embrace.