Dirty Little Secrets (8 page)

“It’s not like that, Megan. It’s not like I planned on getting caught. I’ve always been so careful. You know that.”

“But you planned for the eventuality?” She pulled her hands away.

“It’s not like that.”

Something in her snapped, but instead of getting angry and screaming, she closed down, went impossibly numb. “Yes or no? Answer my question.”

For a long time silence reigned but eventually Ben nodded.

“Say it.” Megan’s voice cracked as the betrayal bit into her. “Say the words.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me. Say the whole thing. I need to hear it all.”

Ben covered his face with his hand. He looked so boyish and handsome. “Yes, I always knew I would blame you if anyone ever found out about Chad. I don’t want to hurt you, Megan. I had no intention of anyone finding out. I will be more careful in the future. I promise.”

The words should have stung, but she was ready for them. She had already closed herself down. No one was getting in, nothing could touch her. The only sadness she had was from the knowledge that Ben was just another man. Her anger turned on herself for thinking Ben was any different. It was her fault for trusting him. He could not use her past against her had she not been stupid enough to confide in him. Shame on her for thinking he was different, that what they had was special. “You did not mean to hurt me but I was the contingency plan. If anything happened, you would throw me under the bus. Megan did it. She slept with plenty of men. What’s one more to add to the tally?” A cold realisation dawned on her. “And Booker knows about it. That’s why you called him. Did you have a plan? Does he know everything?”

Ben ran a hand through his short dark hair. He crossed the room to her and tried again to reach for her hands, but she pulled them away.

“Answer me!” she screamed. She did not care who heard her. She would give every bloody journalist on her lawn the story of the year.

“Yes, Booker knows about my friendship with Chad. And he knows about you. It was his idea to use you as a cover.”

Megan let out a stream of air. “Fantastic. This story just keeps getting better and better.” Megan backed up and collapsed on the leather wingback chair in the corner of the room. She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. She felt so alone. She had not felt so betrayed since she had left Mississippi. That time it had been another man who had let her down. When would she learn her lesson? No one was to be trusted. If she could not rely on Ben, there was no one.

She wished she could be normal and just cry. This would be a bloody great time to do it. A normal person would cry. Every week she saw men and women on the witness stand dissolving into tears, crying and whimpering. Maybe she should work on learning how to do that, because she needed something to soothe the dull ache she felt in her chest.

She shook her head. She was not going to feel sorry for herself or wish that she was weaker. She had made her choices. She had benefited from her relationship with Ben in many ways, even if he had just proved he was like every other man she had ever known, taking when there was nothing left to give. She could choke back her righteous indignation. She could play her role.

“So what now?” Megan asked.

Ben squeezed in beside her, his arms closing around her. She felt dirty and used, more than any one night stand could ever measure up to. James had not made her feel like this, sad and broken.

“We are going to issue a statement and then you will go into a residential treatment facility to address your sex addiction issues.”

Megan’s head shot up.“That seems a bit drastic. All I allegedly did was cheat on my husband. That’s hardly behaviour worthy of treatment. I admit it and then we move on.”

Ben shook his head. “All the polls indicate that the public respond well to a proper grovelling mea culpa. It will have to be a grand gesture if we are going to ride this thing out. And given your history, it is best that we address it now.”

“What history?” She needed to hear him say it out loud, let there be no question that he was using her past against her. She shuddered when she remembered every secret she had told Ben. He had been her safe person, the only one who would never hurt her. She shook her head. She never thought that Ben would make her feel ashamed of where she had come from and the choices she had made.

“Don’t be like that. We both know you have a history. We think it is best to face it head on.”

We
. There was no
we
in this. This was about Ben and Booker insuring their future. They had really thought it through. Megan shook her head and laughed bitterly. Oh the irony. She had gone over five years without sex and could happily go another five before she had it again, but if she needed to wear the Scarlet Letter she would. She had been publically humiliated before and she had come through the other side, stronger. She could face this. “How long?”

“A week’s intensive treatment and then outpatient therapy through the church.”

“Wow. You really have thought this through. Was it you or Booker who came up with all the details?” She didn’t know what answer she would prefer, but if it was her husband screwing her over, at least she could console herself with the knowledge that he had been there for her when no one else had. Perhaps this was just her time to pay him what was due. That is the way life worked, after all, every kindness has a price.

“We have discussed all eventualities. We have to have all our bases covered.”

Megan made a tut sound. She loved Ben, but sometimes she was amazed that Booker Colley would even consider him as a running mate. Few people had as many skeletons as Ben, but then again, very few politicians had his approval rating. People loved Ben McCoy, men, woman, republican, democrat, young and old. Ben had a way of making everyone feel important, feel special. Over the years she had watched him and learned how he did it: frequent use of a person’s name, compliments, asking questions that made him appear interested, and the occasional touch of his hand on theirs, just like he was doing with her now. Ben was very skilled as a politician, there was no denying that. Booker Colley would win the election with Ben on the ticket. Nothing in life was certain, but it was one of the few things she would bet on.

***

James scrutinised the photo in front of him. His jaw clenched until his teeth hurt. He had not stopped thinking about her since she left. He had never had a more bizarre, yet utterly fulfilling night. An anger burned in him as he examined the cover of the broadsheet. He could not believe he had wasted any time feeling guilty about Friday night. Even more annoying was his desire to see her again. Why he wanted to, was beyond him. He was not remotely attracted to her—well, he shouldn’t be, she was too short, too plain, too aggressive—yet his body had a strange reaction to her, almost like it was seeing something different or responding to something else.

The way the night ended had been utterly bizarre. Shit, the whole night had been bizarre, a complete train wreck. And yet it had ended with one of the hottest sexual experiences he had ever had. That too perplexed him; they had a hurried shag, no preludes, no kink, and yet it was as satisfying as anything he had ever had, and he wanted more. Even though she was far from his type, he would have gladly spent the rest of the night in bed with her. In arguments and in bed, she gave as good as she got. Who was Megan McCoy?

James dialled the number of his top investigative journalist. Originally he thought the only story was Ben McCoy, but there was something with Megan too. He felt it.

Chapter Seven

There were few things people could not discover, given adequate time and money.

James put his sunglasses back on and walked through the lobby of New Hope clinic. A stint in here would cost $30,000. The Centre looked more like a five-star hotel than a treatment facility. The building was set on three acres in suburban Virginia, just outside Washington DC. He reminded himself to check and see if the senator was paying for his wife’s treatment with campaign contributions. James would not put it past him.

James stopped when he spotted her. Megan was sitting under the shade of an oak tree, legs crossed, a laptop across her knees. Her blonde hair was fastened with a loose braid. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say to her. To say it was awkward to see her again in this situation was an understatement.

“Hi.”

Megan’s head shot up. Her eyes widened before they quickly narrowed to a defiant stare. “There is no press allowed in here.”

James closed the distance between them and sat down facing her, the afternoon sun hot on his back. “Lucky I’m not here as a journalist.”

“Why are you here? I have nothing to say to you. I think you should leave.” She glared at him. It was the same look she had given Dixon. She was standing her ground.

Physically she was small, but her confidence would have suited a man twice her size. She was fearless. Despite his annoyance, he admired that about her. She could hold her own. “I’m here as a friend.”

“Really? Who are you visiting? Certainly not me, because we’re not friends. I wouldn’t even class you as an acquaintance.”

“What would you class us as then?”

“A mistake.” Her tone was icy, cutting.

“One you seemed quite eager to make, which got me thinking.”

“That must have been a change for you.” She smiled, a placid expression that did not reach her eyes, almost like she could turn off her emotion. But he had seen her lose control before. He knew the passion roiling just below the surface. And he knew that below the bitch was a brilliant woman.

“Indeed.” Despite himself he smiled. Megan McCoy was hard work, almost excruciatingly so, but James had never been averse to a challenge. “Would you like to know what I have been thinking?”

“Not really. I would prefer it if you left and never came back. And I would really like it if you told your army of photographers to stay off my lawn and out of my business.”

“I told you before; I don’t tell my journalists what to report, ever. I don’t manipulate the media. If it’s news, it’s reported, no matter what.”

“You say that like you are proud of that, like there is something noble in what you’re doing. Who consenting adults sleep with is not news. The world is not a better place for knowing that.”

She looked even younger now without make-up, her freckles darkened from the sun. She looked vulnerable and that bothered him, or more to the point he was bothered that he cared. He had a job to do. He didn’t have time to consider the ice queen’s vulnerabilities. She was not his responsibility. He would leave it to her husband to care about her.

“I’m not trying to make the world a better place, just a more honest one. People need to be held accountable for their actions.”

“Why are you here?” Megan closed her laptop and returned it to her canvas bag. “I am not supposed to get visitors. It could interfere with the treatment process.”

If James was not mistaken, there was a hint of disdain in her words. “I’m here because I wanted to speak to you. I have done a bit of research on you and I’ve discovered a few interesting things.”

Megan blinked; a flash of panic shot through her eyes like lightning, gone as quickly as it appeared. “Should I be flattered that you are wasting time investigating me?”

She fascinated him; the hard edges, the caustic words, the tiniest glimmers of emotion. They all made him curious, intrigued even. The fact that she held this much of his attention after sex was noteworthy. “It was hardly a waste of time. It was fascinating what I found, or actually, what I didn’t find. Until thirteen years ago you did not exist. You were completely off the grid. You have no history, no record, nothing. Almost like Megan McCoy was created.”

Megan’s eyes narrowed but she did not break her stare. “I thought you were a journalist, not a fiction writer. Oh my mistake, they’re synonymous, aren’t they?”

James was edging closer to the truth. “You go on the attack to avoid direct questions.”

“Was there a question? I thought you were just pontificating. I know how men love to hear their own voice.”

“You want to know what else I learned?”

James could see Megan thinking, deliberating. “Not really. I need to get back to work. I’m starting a new case next week.”

James held out his finger to make a point. “See, now that is funny. You have just experienced what I can only assume is the most humiliating event in your life, and you are not using this time to reflect or regroup or any of the other bullshit you’re meant to do in rehab. You’re working on a case. It’s almost like you don’t care.”

Megan’s mouth tightened before she spoke. “You know nothing about me. And we’re going to keep it that way. Print anything you want. I know the truth.”

Her words were so guarded, giving nothing away about her feelings. He would be tempted to think she had none, but the woman he had taken to bed had plenty of passion. There was emotion in there somewhere. She just kept it very tightly guarded. “Here’s the thing. I reckon I’m starting to figure it out too. And it is a far more interesting story than I ever imagined. I’ll give you your due, Megan, you’re full of surprises.”

Megan sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth would be fantastic, but you don’t share that with many people, do you? You’re very guarded.”

She ignored his question. “I’m not going to give you an interview. Everything is public record now. Rehash it and sensationalise it, but I am not going to give you a quote.”

James shook his head. “Not everything is public record. Take this picture for example.” He reached into his pocket and produced the photo that had been seen by every man, woman and child in America. But this photo, was different, it was date and time stamped.

Megan looked away. “I don’t need to see that. I was there.”

“You weren’t actually. Take a look at the bottom corner. Do you see the time? It was taken at 2:53 a.m.”

Megan reached for the picture. She cleared her throat as she examined the evidence. “There is no way to verify the date or time. This is not admissible.” She thrust the photo back at him like the sight of it disgusted her.