his infected lip piercing. “Who are you? Why are you covered with mud?” More laughter. When stupid kids were that drunk and high, they thought everything was funny. “You sure you want to be seen in public with a girl that messed up? You do know her little brother killed a guy?”
White-hot anger shot like an arrow up Meg’s spine. No, she was not going to give them the satisfaction of a response. They were just stupid, drunk, drugged-up teenagers who didn’t know what they were talking about and were just trying to get a reaction. Her fingers clenched into fists. Angry tears filled her eyes. No wonder she still felt trapped by the past. Kenny and Stuart had practically been babies when Benji nearly died in that accident, fourteen years ago, and yet here they were, catcalling her about the terrifying moment that had filled her nightmares ever since.
She kept walking. Jack didn’t.
“Come on. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”
Jack’s boots planted themselves firmly. “Gentlemen, I think you should apologize to Ms. Duff.”
Stuart glanced uncertainly at his older brother. Kenny laughed. “Oh yeah? And what if we don’t?”
Jack’s stare grew harder. A grin that was anything but cheerful crossed his lips. Here was a man who’d probably seen more than his fair share of rude, drunk teenagers and wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by seeing two more—or, apparently, by the prospect of putting them in their place. For a second it seemed as if Kenny was actually going to try and stare him down. But Stuart scrambled backward up the steps and pulled his brother by the hood until he followed him.
“Whatever.” Kenny shrugged. “Sorry if you can’t take a joke. But just so you know, Meg, your brother just got arrested for stealing McCarthy’s dog.”
The door clanged shut behind them.
“Poor idiots.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to them, please. I just hope they get the help they need before they end up in serious trouble.” She kept walking. Jack matched her pace. “Thank you for standing up for me. I just didn’t have it in me for another fight. Their father owns the store and he’s just as bad, which is why I wasn’t about to use his phone. I guarantee that if you called the police on them for underage drinking, by the time the cops got here the boys would be gone and their dad would swear he hadn’t seen them all day.”
The dirt road turned to pavement beneath their feet. Small stores and businesses lined the street ahead of them. She couldn’t see the docks, but judging by how busy the street was up ahead, the ferry must have arrived on schedule. They passed a couple of people, strangers. She smiled, nodded, but didn’t make eye contact. Two muddy people walking down the street, one of them carrying a life ring, were sure to set tongues wagging. The smartest move right now was to get to the police and file a report. The diner was only steps away, just across the street. It was a main hangout for cops, but even if there were none there, she was sure the owner would let her use the phone discreetly. Not to mention probably pouring her some coffee.
“Meg. About your brother. Does he actually have a criminal record?”
She stopped so suddenly he nearly fell on top of her. Her eyes darted down the street in both directions. Was anyone close enough to overhear him? Not that she could tell. “You’re not seriously going to listen to those two, are you?”
He sighed, and for a moment she could almost see an imaginary microphone appearing in his hand. “Look, I promise I won’t include it in my article unless it’s relevant to the story. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least research the possibility your brother could be connected to what just happened to you.”
No. This couldn’t wait. It had to be said, and it had to be said now.
“Come here.” She stepped backward into an empty lot, and behind a Dumpster. “We’d better get this out before we go into the diner. Because I’m not about to say this twice.” Her hands snapped to her hips. His eyebrow arched, but she didn’t dare let herself back down.
“Now, you listen here, Jack Brooks, crime reporter from Toronto. I’m still not entirely sure why you’re up here on the island, or what you’re trying to accomplish. But I do know one thing for certain—I have more than enough to deal with in my life right now. So if you start going around stirring up trouble for me and my brother, please believe me when I say I won’t have anything to do with you.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. Jack felt his chest tighten, as the depth of her emotion tugged at something deep inside him. Compassion? Concern? For the first time in his career, the journalist found himself struggling to find the right words to fit his thoughts. All he knew was he could feel the urge to wrap his arms around her surging through his veins, making him want things he could never have. Like the feel of her head tucked safely into the curve of his throat as he promised her he’d never do anything that would ever hurt her.
Don’t let yourself get emotionally compromised, Jack. You still have a job to do and your future depends on your ability to stay objective. Even if you did just save this woman’s life.
His career was hanging by a thread; he’d just witnessed an attack he believed to be by the very serial killer whom he’d risked everything to expose. Plus, he’d promised the Lord, years ago, he’d never again let his feelings compromise the truth of a story. No matter how strong those feelings might be.
“My little brother is one of the kindest, most generous, most bighearted men you’ll ever meet.” She was practically hissing. “Benji loves God and other people more than anyone I know. He’d practically treat our home like a free hotel to every sports nut coming through the island if I let him.”
Oh, if he had a nickel for every woman he’d heard arguing that her brother, son or husband was really a good guy, while the man was being dragged off by the police for committing some violent crime for the umpteenth time.
He took a step back and crossed his arms. “I’ll ask you again, does your brother have a criminal record?”
“No!” Her voice rose. “Years and years ago, when Benji was only fifteen, he and a friend named Chris Quay were in a terrible snowmobile accident. Chris died. Benji just barely managed to pull through. Yeah, the police questioned him, because that’s what happens when a kid dies. The fact that they followed procedure doesn’t make it anything other than what it was—a horrible, tragic accident. But in the minds of some people, that was enough to taint his reputation for the rest of his life.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t! You’re from the big city, where nobody knows their neighbors’ business, let alone cares if the person filling up their gas tank ever got questioned by police for reckless driving.” She ran both hands through her hair and let it fall back around her heart-shaped face. “But it’s a whole other world on the island. Do you know how many people live in most of these towns? Hundreds. That’s all. And most of the families have been here for several generations. Reputations run deep, because families tend to know each other through work, or school, or because their grandparents built some important building.” She pressed her hand against her chest and took in a deep breath.
“So, you’re saying your brother wasn’t arrested for stealing a dog?”
Both her hands shot up in the air, as if she were fighting the urge to punch an imaginary enemy. “No! My brother’s a bit scatterbrained
