2Aaron
After my firstfew attempts at tracking Megan down had failed, I realized that I was going to need some help. The idea that she might have tricked me and my MC in some way for some reason, was starting to curb the sexual ache and need I had for her.
I’d even gone so far as to send her several emails using the contact information in the back of her books, but she hadn’t taken the bait. Instead, she’d thanked me for reading her books and offered to send me a free copy of any of her books I hadn’t read yet.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, snatching me out of my thoughts. It was my friend, D. Derrick Michaels was a computer geek that I’d met and became friends with while in the military. He was no longer in the military, but he offered services that you couldn’t readily get on the open market.
D offered the kind of tech services that could send a person to prison for a long time. He presented a quiet, nerdy persona, but I knew better. The man had been in my military unit, and I’d seen him kill with the same quiet ease in which he lived. I requested D’s services whenever I needed to track down someone. He was a major part of the reason why I was able to track down an enemy to our MC or anyone who thought they could hide from me.
I’d scanned D a copy of Megan’s driver’s license, which I’d taken from her purse as a security measure, a day after she’d entered my house. I also gave him her social media information and a listing of all the sites where her books were sold.
“D, what do you have for me?” I asked, pasting a smile over the deep frown on my face as I drove.
After a long pause, D’s calm and easy voice flowed through the phone.
“Knox, I got nothing but questions, man. Are you sure you want to pursue this woman?”
D called me by my last name, sticking to the way we’d addressed each other in the military.
For him to have asked me that question, he must’ve stumbled upon something that gave him pause.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I told him. “Why are you asking? What did you find?”
My foot eased off my accelerator a notch, preparing to listen to what D was about to say. I could hear him sigh on the other end of the line.
“That’s just it. I didn’t find a damn thing. This woman has hidden herself under so many layers that I can’t find out who the hell she is, even with a popular writing career. Are you sure she’s this writer Megan Jones or was that a cover?”
Confused, I shook my head although D couldn’t see it. “Yes. She sat in my house and wrote a full manuscript fast as shit, and from what she let me read, the shit was legit. I’d even buy it and I don’t even read that stuff.” I didn’t tell D that I’d read four of her books already, including the manuscript that hadn’t been released yet.
“She writes under the pen name Megan Jones, but as far as her real name goes, I can’t make a connection with a real live person. Hell, for all I’ve found, Megan Jones could be her real name,” D informed me. The hint of concern in his voice wasn’t lost on me.
“When I attempted to get into her financials to see where the money from her books sales was going, I discovered that the money goes through an organization called the Phoenix Foundation, which then distributes it to other non-profit organizations.”
The crease in my forehead deepened. “What? Are you saying she doesn’t use any of the money for herself? How the fuck is she living?” I asked D, knowing he hadn’t found the answer yet, or he would have told me.
D’s update had my mind reeling. Working off a debt for her sister was a fucking rouse if Megan had the ability to give money away. How the fuck was she living and more importantly, why had she chosen to spend thirty days among my MC?
D continued. “Man, that’s one of the questions I’ve been trying to find answers to. When I hacked into her social media accounts, they were all under Megan Jones, but that was it; no state, city, or anything associated with an actual person. She gives the bare minimum as far as information goes and the details she gives leads to dead ends. All I know is she’s someplace in the United States and I ain’t even one hundred on that.”
D remained silent for a moment before he continued. When he started using slang terms, I knew something had stumped him. D was the whitest white boy I knew, but he’d grown up in one of the worst areas in Philly, so he was about as hood as they came.
While some men ran around playing hard, D had shared with me stories of his childhood that rivaled my own. He’d seen as much action on the streets of Philly as we’d seen as soldiers in the active warzones we were exposed to.
“Knox, man, I’m still searching. I can’t tell you yet who the hell this Megan is and where the hell she’s at. The driver’s license you scanned me is registered to a legit Texas address. But, Aaron, get this shit. When I hacked into the DMV and pulled up the Megan Jones that belonged at that Texas address, it was not the same Megan Jones whose face was on the license you scanned me. Your pretty brown Megan had put her face on a pretty white Megan’s driver’s license.”
“What the fuck?” I asked, not believing what I was hearing. Who the fuck had I been sleeping with for two weeks? Who the fuck had I been obsessing over?
The updates D was sharing had me beyond pissed and so irritated, the vein in my forehead throbbed. Megan had played me. She’d played my entire MC, pretending to be someone else so she could get whatever the hell she wanted from us. The worst part of the situation was, I still didn’t know what the fuck she’d wanted from us or why.
“I’ll keep digging, Knox.” D’s voice pulled me away from the dark anger that nipped at my mind and planted deadly intent there. “I have another assignment. It’s a field assignment, but I’ll work on this for you when I can,” D stated. “I’ll call you later to let you know what else I find out.”
“Thanks, D,” I managed before hanging up. I didn’t bother D when he had what he called field assignments. There were times when he went black, and I knew it meant some type of illegal operation that involved violence and likely, death.
My fingers clenched tighter around Megan’s driver’s license. I’d intended to have D check her out the day I’d taken it from her purse, but I’d gotten distracted: the sex, the cooking, her ability to make me feel like I was something special. Even her ability to endure the occasional bouts of violence that had crept into my life had blinded me to who or what she truly was. She’d masterfully seduced me and made me see only what she wanted me to see.
The driver’s license was the only thing of hers I had, and I’d just found out that it wasn’t truly hers. I was hot at this point, so angry with her for fooling me that I wanted to hurt someone. All of that longing and need I’d had for her was being eaten by pure unadulterated rage. Through gritted teeth, I grumbled at the license in my hand. “When I find you, whoever the fuck you are, I’m going to make you sorry you ever met me.”