Dirty Little Secrets

by Kierney Scott

  James pulled in to Albi’s Steakhouse. He offered Megan his hand, and she hesitated before allowing him to help her out of the car. She looked more like a scared mouse than the take-no-prisoners Assistant District Attorney she was reported to be. He found it hard to believe this was the Ice Queen defence attorneys hated go up against. She had a reputation for being a tenacious ball breaker. Even judges did not want to get on the wrong side of her, apparently she was whip smart and knew case law better than anyone practising in the District and she was not afraid to tell people when they were wrong. Those were the rumours, but they did not square with the nervous woman in front of him.

  A waiter seated them at a table overlooking the river.

  “So what drew you to a career in law? Why are you a prosecutor?” he asked once the waiter had taken their order. Admittedly it was a lame question, but he had not prepared to speak to her. He’d only gone through with the meeting so he did not throw up any suspicion with Ben.

  Megan took a long sip of her iced water and eyed him dubiously. “Really, you want to know why I work for the DA?” She tapped her fingers on the white linen table cloth. “I suppose I want to put bad guys away.”

  “Why do you specialise in domestic violence cases?”

  She turned to look out the picture window. Slender fingers touched her neck as she cleared her throat. “Off the record?” she asked, turning back to him.

  He nodded. None of this was going in a story anyhow, but now he was interested.

  “I like taking down men who prey on vulnerable people. I would be just as happy to try a man who abuses his position, let’s say, by tapping phones, intimidating witnesses and failing miserably to cover it all up,” she said pointedly.

  There was no question she was talking about his father. His jaw clenched. No matter where he went he could not get away from the fact that Conrad Emerson had violated every ethics law known and paid for it with his freedom. His father’s actions had brought GMN to the brink of collapse only a few years ago, but James had worked his ass off to bring the company back stronger than ever. Shame some people could not see past his father’s sins.

  “Most people just think that, they don’t actually say it.”

  “I was thinking worse,” she said.

  “Well then, congratulations on your restraint. But don’t hold back on my account. Tell me what you really think.”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you sure? Cause I’m Southern, I have to be absolutely certain you want to hear the truth. It’s what passes as manners where I come from.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I think journalists are vultures. They violate people’s privacy and are more interested in titillation than news. They pretend to be providing a public service but more often than not they are just appealing to the lowest common denominator. I’m glad your father went to prison. It proved that no one is above the law.”

  James took a drink of his iced tea and wished he had something stronger. She might look sweet but she had an edge. Perhaps he had underestimated her. “I doubt you’re as happy as I am about his incarceration.”

  Megan blinked. She looked around the room, presumably to make sure no one was within earshot. “Is this the part where you tell me all about your integrity? It was all daddy. You didn’t benefit at all from his felonious actions. But oh wait you did. You are now the sole owner of a multibillion dollar corporation. You came out quite well in the deal.”

  “Did I? My reputation was in tatters. There are still ignorant people far too eager to tar me with the same brush.”

  “I prefer my insults indirect. If you want to call me ignorant, say it,” she challenged. Her tone was sweet, in direct opposition to her message.

  “Trust me, if I’d wanted to insult you, you’d know all about it. I don’t think you’re ignorant by the way. Wound a bit too tight, yes. Quite possibly a bitch, but not ignorant.”

  She smiled like he had just complimented her. He had indeed underestimated her.

  “I’m glad our esteem for each other is mutual.”

  “Indeed,” James said as the waiter brought over a basket of bread.

  Megan tore off a piece and dipped it in olive oil. “I understand completely if you want to tell the world I’m a bitch. You have my blessing.”

  “I’m not going to write an article about you being a bitch. I would never let my personal feelings cloud my professional judgement.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” The sarcasm penetrated her saccharine smile.

  “You really hate journalists.”

  “I really hate people that violate trust and take advantage of vulnerable people.”

  “Let me get this straight, journalists provide no benefit to society?”

  She finished chewing before she answered. “In theory they do, of course. They have the opportunity to inform and enlighten. But in practice they stalk pregnant celebrities and print stories about how fat they’ve become. That’s hardly a public service.”

  “I think you are confusing paparazzi with legitimate journalists.”

  Megan put down her bread and leaned in. She spoke slowly and softly. Her long lashes kissed her cheeks when she blinked. “Have any of your papers or news stations printed a photograph that was obtained from a paparazzo?” Her gaze was direct, her smile never faltered.

  James shifted in his seat. Christ, this is what defendants must feel like under cross examination. She was cold; no wonder she was called the ice queen. She struck him as the type who would do her homework, toil through reams of microfiche just to make a point. And James Emerson did not lie. Ever. “We have.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “What case is that exactly? I’m kind of like you, I like my insults direct.”

  She sat back in her chair. “I think you pretend to have integrity, but you don’t give a rat’s ass about anything beyond the bottom line. You would sell out your granny to get a story. You are more like your father than you admit.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. She had gone for the jugular. She was either incredibly lucky in her aim or very astute in her judgements. There were few things he liked less than comparisons to his father, but he refused to be baited. “I give the people what they want.”

  “Child pornographers say the same thing.”

  “Did you just compare me to a paedophile?”

  “Certainly not. I was just taking your argument to its logical conclusion.”

  “Unbelievable.” He shook his head. The day had been too fucking long to deal with this. “Look, clearly we have gotten off to a bad start.” It crossed his mind that it may be impossible to get off on the right foot with such a caustic woman. “Perhaps we should reschedule when your husband is available.”

  “Perhaps we should,” Megan said through a static smile.

  James turned his head to the commotion at the entrance to the restaurant. A waiter was pulling at the arm of a man, trying to stop him from coming into the dining area. The man shook the waiter off and marched towards their table.

  “Why don’t you return my calls, bitch?” His eyes bulged and the snake tattoo on his neck pulsated with his heartbeat.

  Megan stood up. A look of defiance flashed in her eyes. Her back straightened like she was ready to pounce. “Mr. Dixon, I suggest you turn around and walk out of here before I have you charged with criminal threats and stalking.”

  “Listen, you fucking bitch. My wife admitted she lied when she made that statement. The cops wouldn’t let her go until she signed that fucking paper.” He shook his fist in her face.

  Megan did not blink; instead she stepped further toward him, standing her ground or taunting him? “I am well aware that Mrs. Dixon has recanted but the jury will have to decide who they believe, an ex con who has already served time for battery and rape, or the doctors, nurses, and police officers that tended Mrs. Dixon after she was brutalised. I know who I would believe.” Her voice did not falter.


  A sense of admiration shot through James. Megan was one tough woman; shit, she would make a tough man.

  “Fuck you, bitch!” the man said as he lunged at her.

  On reflex James stood up and grabbed him. He did not think, he just acted, preventing the man’s punch from landing squarely on Megan’s face. He would give her her due, she flinched but still she did not step away. She was quite possibly the bravest or stupidest person he had ever met. If James had not been there, she would be nursing a black eye but she was completely unfazed. Her pointy chin jetted out in defiance. He had to admit he kind of liked her. She was abrasive as hell but she had a backbone of steel.

  James leaned down and said into the man’s ear. “Leave her alone. Or I’ll hurt you.”

  “Get the fuck off me. That bitch is crazy. She’s trying to jam me up.” The man struggled against the tight hold but he was going nowhere.

  “I am going to let you go but if you even look at her before you walk out of here, I will tear off your balls and shove them down your throat.” To prove he meant business James increased the pressure of his hold until the man was gasping for breath. “Are we clear?” he asked. The man tried to speak but nothing came out. “Are we clear? Nod your head if you understand.” The man’s head wagged up and down like an eager puppy.

  “Good,” James said as he released him.

  “Nice friends you have,” James said to her when the man was out of the building.

  A look of annoyance crossed her face. “I wish you would have let him hit me. I could have had him on a felony assault.” She shook her head.

  “Excuse me?” James said incredulously. Who was this woman?

  Megan stared into his moss-green eyes. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Suddenly she realised what a bitch she was being; so much for maintaining her public persona. She was taking all her frustration out on James because he had the piss-poor luck of being in her firing line. She was having a shit day but she did not have the right to take it out on him. “Sorry. I mean thank you. I really appreciate you doing that. It’s just my case is shot to hell because his wife recanted and he is going to walk. He raped her and shattered her eye socket with a baseball bat, but she has forgiven him so it’s all better now. He bought her flowers so he must be sorry. God, I wish I had something else to charge him with.”

  “Shit. I thought I had a bad day.” James shook his head.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.” She let out a stream of air.

  “So you don’t really hate journalists?”

  “I do, I just usually have better manners than that. I am really hungry. Low blood sugar does not agree with me, I’m a real asshole when I’m hungry.” Megan held her hand out for him to shake.

  “I’m Australian, I don’t need an excuse to be an asshole.” He returned her handshake, his long warm fingers curving tightly over hers. She could feel his power through the simple action.

  “You use your nationality as an excuse for a lot of things,” she laughed.

  “You don’t know the half of them,” he assured her.

  She tore off another piece of bread and dipped it in balsamic vinegar. If she didn’t know better she would think he was flirting with her again.

  “Shall we get dinner? We’re already here.”

  Megan shook her head. “I should get home. I am liable to go off on another rant. I just need to go home, have a bath, and eat Lucky Charms from the box.”

  “I’ve had worse nights.” When he smiled this time, it reached his eyes. Yes he was flirting with her. What was that about? She shifted in her seat before she stood up.

  “Here, let me take you home then.”

  “No I’ll just get a taxi. Stay and have something to eat. I am really sorry for the way I went off on one. Not my finest hour.” She had warned Ben not to send her. She had disappointed herself; normally she could keep her public mask on, no matter the provocation. She was an expert at it, no one got to see the real her. Unfortunately for her, she had just shown James a side of her she did her best to keep hidden. In reality she kept most of herself hidden.

  “Not a problem. At least it wasn’t dull. I can forgive anything as long as I’m not bored.” He stood up beside her. “I’ll reschedule with your husband’s secretary. Let me take you home.”

  Megan nodded. “Thanks, that would be nice. I’ll speak to her; tell her to fit you in tomorrow. She likes to pretend he’s busy 24/7 but he goes to the gym from seven to nine. I can get you in then, if it’s good for you.”

  There was a slight hesitation before he said, “That would be great.”

  Megan took another piece of bread and shoved it in her purse while James paid the bill; it was a waste to let good carbohydrates go uneaten.

  Megan made her way to the car while James went to look for the waiter who had tried to stop Steve Dixon from coming in to Albi’s.

  The night was dark and unseasonably cold. Megan hugged her arms to her chest. She had almost reached the car when she heard someone shout. A low growl of a voice pierced the silence. “Hey, bitch. Nobody here to protect you now. Not so fucking brave now are you?”

  Chapter Two

  Megan’s head snapped up to see Steve Dixon standing just ten feet in front of her. Her back straightened, her instinct was to make herself look taller. Her index finger went to the nozzle of her pepper spray. If he came any closer, he would be getting a faceful of pain. “I’m warning you, Mr. Dixon. Go away.”

  “Fuck you, bitch. You’re trying to get me locked up. I didn’t fucking do anything.”

  He was moving in closer. Almost close enough. She took a deep breath. No man would ever make her run again. “We’ll have to let the jury decide. Go home.”

  He lunged at her. She braced herself for the impact as her finger pressed down on the spray. But instead of being on the receiving end of Dixon’s blow she was pushed out of the way. She fell back into the car door before she saw Dixon swing at James.

  James stood perfectly still like he had been frozen in suspended animation. His hands fisted, the muscles in his arms bulging, deep lines defining his triceps even through his shirt as he flexed, but his arms remained at his sides. Dixon’s fist connected with the side of James’ face. His head snapped back with an audible cracking sound.

  Megan gasped and lunged to help him, but James righted himself and gave Dixon a shove that sent the convict flying to the ground.

  James turned and looked at her, blood pouring from his left eye.

  “Is that enough to get him for assault?” he asked. There was a fire in his eyes, angry and raw. She knew that look. She had seen that look before. She had been on the receiving end of it.

  Megan swallowed hard as she nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “Now look away. I don’t need a witness for the next part.”

  Before she could do what he said, he pulled Dixon off the ground and pushed him into the door of the Range Rover. “Listen, you piece of shit. You don’t hit women. You just don’t. Next time listen to the lady and go home.” With that last piece of advice James hit him square in the jaw. With one blow, Dixon folded, his hands flew to his face, cradling it in his hands as he groaned.

  Megan stood shocked, temporarily frozen in place. People rarely surprised her, and never for the better. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

  She shook her head. James was speaking but she did not register what he was saying.

  “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “I think you should phone the police. We’re both going to need to make a statement. You saw him lunge at me the second time before I hit him?” James asked pointedly, making it clear what answer he expected.

  She nodded. The truth was close enough to what he was suggesting.

  “Good. Nice to know we’re singing from the same hymn sheet.”

  She nodded. She would get the conviction she wanted. Why had James done that, put himself on the line for her? What possible benefit could there be? She strained to thi
nk of a plausible explanation, but she fell short. A flash of annoyance washed over her. She had an answer for everything, especially when it came to knowing what made people tick. Reading people is what kept her safe as a kid, and it is what made her good at her job now.

  Men didn’t do things unless there was a payoff. All men expected something in return. All men except Ben.

  Just to make sure, she asked, “Did you let him hit you just so I would have something to charge him with?”

  Dixon made a start on standing up but James pushed him to the ground again. He turned to her again. “No, I was entertaining the idea of masochism, but it turns out I’m not a fan.” The blood continued to gush from above his eye. His shirt was now soaked through with scarlet patches. Despite looking like a crime scene, James smiled.

  Her gaze trained on his full lips. She had not noticed before how full his bottom lip was or the way when he smiled the way half of his face raised that bit higher, making him look mischievous and cheerful at the same time, almost playful. She watched mesmerised as his lips relaxed back. She forced herself to raise her eyes and return his gaze.

  “Jesus, your eye.” Megan looked in her purse for something to mop up the fast torrent. All she could find was a sanitary towel and wadded up paper towels from wiping down equipment at the gym. She unwrapped the pad and pressed it to his eye.

  “Cheers,” he said with the faintest smile. It was a simple movement, his mouth rising slightly at one side again, but it made her stomach flip.

  “No, thank you,” she said. She had not intended to whisper but her voice failed her. Suddenly she saw him as a man, not a reporter, just an unfathomably hot man who had done the first decent thing she had seen all day. And she didn’t even care why he had done it because it had righted a wrong that she could not. A searing heat crept across her chest, and lower still, into her belly.

  She gave her head a terse shake. She could not remember the last time she had had that feeling, and it unsettled her. Her sex life had taken a nose dive since she married Ben. He never asked her to stop seeing people; quite the opposite, he positively encouraged her to have sex. Ben said she was nicest after a good meal and a good fuck. But fear of exposing Ben had prevented her from having sex for the last few years. She thought back. No, the last time she had sex was the night before her wedding. An old boyfriend had been passing through New York, and she had met him for drinks. No. Had it really been five years?