Murphy's Law (4 page)

A hand appeared in front of her face.

Sara stared at it for a second before
slowly reaching out and placing her hand in Murphy’s, watching his strong
fingers wrap around hers. Her lower lip trembled as Murphy pulled her to her
feet and cupped her chin in his other hand. His silver-gray eyes held hers.
Water ran down his face in streams and plastered his black hair to his head.
Droplets clung to his eyelashes and upper lip. Sara couldn’t look away.

“Come with me,” he said in a gravelly
voice.

All Sara could do was nod, too
distraught to speak and too tired to argue. She had nowhere to go and no one to
trust.

Except Murphy with his scars and his
secrets.

Numb, Sara followed Murphy into the
rain. She held on tight to his jacket and let him lead her wherever he wanted,
because he was the only person in the world she had to trust. Even if she
couldn’t trust herself.

* * * *

“Pack a bag,” Murphy commanded.
“Something light you can carry.”

Sara took in the destruction inside the
cabin and clapped a hand over her mouth. The room was destroyed, cushions
slashed and lamps overturned. She knew who was responsible and it made her
sick. She had witnessed this kind of rage first-hand and had hoped to keep it
away from Abby, who thankfully still slept inside Murphy’s coat. Her pale face
lay against his bronzed neck, her lashes long and dark where they rested on her
cheeks. Sara stared at her sweet, innocent face for a moment, wanting to
protect her from the past and the present with a vengeance that chewed at her
insides. How had she let this get so out of control?

She met Murphy’s gaze, unable to read
his expression. How he had become so good at hiding his thoughts?

“Sara,” he said. “We don’t have time to
spare.”

“What? Okay. I’ll hurry.”

In the bedroom, she stifled a gasp when
she saw her clothes and mattress shredded. She rifled through the ruined
clothes for anything that she could salvage. There wasn’t much Stephen hadn’t
touched. It turned Sara’s stomach. A sob rose in her throat when she picked up
one of her torn dresses.

Biting back her fear, Sara packed what
she could and returned to the living room where Murphy stood in front of the
window, peering out from a secure position. He glanced at her when she stepped
close.

“Ready,” she said, proud that her voice
sounded semi-normal. Murphy didn’t need to know she trembled so badly her legs
were barely holding her upright. She would never let Abby see her fear. For
years she’d kept it hidden with hopes that things would get better, but things
never did improve. Abby would never know.

Murphy glanced at the bag in her hand,
then back at her before heading toward the door. Sara took one look behind her
before following him, a sense of unease and dread settling over her. Stephen
was close and now she’d brought her problems into Murphy’s life.

She studied his broad back as he moved
with predatory grace in front of her. He carried the worn, green pack and her
daughter with the ease of a man used to carrying heavy loads. He chose a
different path than the one they had taken on the way over. Sara followed
obediently behind him, too tired to question or doubt. Murphy had found her
daughter and for now they were safe. Later, she would figure out where to go
next.

Rain still fell softly. Sara had never
been this wet or exhausted. Her legs moved on autopilot, her arms hanging
limply at her sides. The bag on her shoulder felt like it weighed one hundred
pounds and kept sliding down her arm. Wearily, she pulled it back up and
trudged on.

When Abby woke up a little while later
and started whimpering, Murphy stopped and handed her to Sara. Relieved to be
taking a break, Sara dropped her bag on the ground and took Abby behind a tree
to use nature’s bathroom. Murphy stood nearby, waiting and scanning the area for
trouble. He always looked around him, studying and observing. Even when his
body was still, his eyes were moving. It made her feel uneasy, yet protected at
the same time. If danger was close, Murphy would sense it and alert her. This
wasn’t a man who would be taken by surprise.

When Abby finished, Sara carried her to
where Murphy waited. He handed her a granola bar and a bag of trail mix. Abby
accepted the granola bar and stretched out her hands toward Murphy.

Sara’s chest tightened in a moment of
panic. Ridiculous, since she was too tired to carry Abby. Murphy had been
carrying her all along, but the momentary fear of handing over her daughter
still hit hard. Abby trusted this taciturn man with hard gray eyes and gruff
attitude. She didn’t see a man with scars and a scowl, she saw someone she
could trust to keep her warm and safe, and it tore at Sara’s heart. Abby had
never been safe.

Murphy took Abby from her arms and
tucked her into his jacket. He left the zipper undone so she could eat her
granola bar, and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket when she handed it to him.
His expression remained stony when Abby smiled and smacked her lips together.
Sara hid a smile and picked up her bag. Abby could melt the hardest of hearts
with her innocence and open affection, but Murphy didn’t even crack a smile
when she reached down and zipped herself into his coat and patted his cheek
with her tiny hand. His brow furrowed before he turned and walked away.

Sara followed, willing her legs to carry
her. Abby peeked over Murphy’s shoulder and smiled at her before settling her
head down. Sara waved and smiled. She would take things the same as she had the
past six months. Day by day. Today they were protected; tomorrow she would
decide where to go next. Today they had Murphy. Tomorrow they would be alone
again.

Alone was okay as long as she had Abby.
It beat the alternative.

Sighing, Sara trudged on, and tried not
to think about why she could so easily turn her daughter over to a man she’d
only just met.

Chapter
4

Two hours later they reached Murphy’s
cabin. Sara dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and let the parka
slide off her shoulders. She was too tired to hang it up, but she did anyway.
Abby wriggled in Murphy’s arms. Exasperated, Murphy set her on the floor and
shrugged out of his pack and coat. Abby immediately ran to Sara and started
signing. Sara nodded as she answered before turning to Murphy.

“Would it be all right if I gave Abby a
bath and laid her down for a nap?”

Murphy gave her a curt nod and opened
the door to the dryer beside him. “Dry your clothes in there,” he said, then
picked up his wet rucksack and strode into the living room.

Sara dug all the wet clothes out of her
bag, put them inside the dryer, and turned it on. Then she took Abby’s hand and
followed Murphy. She didn’t immediately see him, but a sound from the room just
off the living room drew her attention. She caught a glimpse of him as he
crossed in front of the door, stripped to the waist.

Seeing Murphy, bare-chested, ripped with
muscle, had her thoughts going to all kinds of inappropriate places. Places
they shouldn’t. Murphy had saved her daughter’s life. He didn’t deserve this
from her. She had no right to be staring at him so wantonly. Hurrying Abby into
the bathroom, she quickly closed the door and collected herself while running a
bath.

Sara stripped out of her clothes too and
slipped into a semi-dry pair of nylon running pants and t-shirt she’d left
inside her bag. She lifted Abby into the tub and smiled when she splashed
joyfully. Kids were so resilient. Why couldn’t adults bounce back like they
did? She laid out a pair of cotton pajamas for Abby to wear and sat on the
toilet lid to watch her. Abby splashed playfully in the water and Sara took
quick inventory when she wasn’t looking. Bruises on her knees, scrapes on her
palms, dark circles under her eyes, and she looked exhausted. Nothing an
afternoon nap wouldn’t cure.

Abby had always been a good sleeper,
never fussing or resisting. Having her hair washed was a different story: she
hated soap in her eyes and pleaded for Sara to wait until tomorrow to wash her
hair. Sara insisted and quickly washed her blond curls with Murphy’s shampoo.
Abby pouted without too much fuss.

The scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled
her nose when she lifted Abby out of the tub and wrapped her in a navy towel
she’d found in the small linen closet beside the tub. She dried her off and had
to push Abby’s arms into her nightgown sleeves. By time she’d dried Abby’s
hair, the poor kid was asleep on her feet. Sara picked her up and carried her
from the bathroom.

Across the room Murphy crouched in front
of a stone fireplace stoking a fire. The room had already grown warm. Sara
longed for a cup of coffee as she stopped by the sofa. Murphy had changed into
a pair of faded jeans and a dark blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves
rolled to his elbows.

“Murphy? Is there somewhere I can lay
Abby down for a nap?”

He glanced over his shoulder and
motioned toward the room behind her. “There’s a spare bedroom. Sheets are
fresh.”

“Thanks.”

The bedroom was small, clean, and
efficient with a double bed, dresser, and bedside table holding a lamp and
alarm clock. By the time Sara pulled the quilt up to Abby’s chin and pressed a
kiss to her cheek, she was already asleep. Sara lingered a moment, thanking the
Lord for Murphy and his skills. She couldn’t imagine life without her daughter,
and thanks to Murphy she didn’t have to. For tonight anyway.

Backing out of the room, Sara returned
to the bathroom to clean up their mess and put her bag in her room. When she
joined Murphy in the kitchen, he poured two mugs of coffee. He didn’t look up
when she sat at the small, battered oak kitchen table.

Moments later he handed her a cup and
sat opposite her, his gray eyes slightly narrowed and studying her in that way
that made her feel like she needed a shield of armor. She lifted the cup to her
lips and sipped the dark, rich brew, letting it slide down her throat and warm
her, hoping it would settle her nerves.

Murphy had a way of making her feel
incredibly ill at ease. She was used to being under a microscope after living
beneath one for the past six years, but something about the way Murphy looked
at her made her heart pound. He wasn’t judging her or figuring out how to make
her better, he really looked at her.

He sat back in his chair, crossed his
arms over his chest, and raised a dark brow, still watching her. Measuring.
Waiting.

Sara set her cup on the table and left
her hands wrapped around it as she took a deep breath. He was waiting for an
explanation she wasn’t ready to give. She’d just as soon not involve him in. By
morning she and Abby would be gone, so why tell him what a fool she’d been to
marry her husband? How she’d traded her soul just to belong in a family she
would never fit into. No amount of makeup or designer clothes could change the
fact she had grown up in a trailer park and Kent had been born with a silver
spoon in his mouth. A cliche as old as time, but in her case the fairy tale
didn’t have a happy ending.

She met his eyes and swallowed. If she
didn’t know what kind of man he was, then she would be packing Abby and her
things and running out the door.

“I…thank you for everything,” she said,
all other thoughts fleeing when he stretched his legs underneath the table and
casually crossed his ankles next to hers.

Still, he waited.

“It’s very kind of you to take us in for
the night. I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience.”

He didn’t deny it, nor did he reassure
her.

Sara sipped her coffee while she thought
of what to say next. “All I need is a ride to town tomorrow so I can arrange to
have my vehicle repaired.”

“What makes you think whoever slashed
your tires isn’t waiting in town?”

She jumped and almost spilled her coffee
at his stern, rough voice. She’d expected more silence. How could she tell him
she knew who slashed the tires and waited for her in town? But, if she didn’t
get new tires she would never be able to escape. She had grabbed the wigs and
makeup from the cabin so she and Abby could sneak into town in disguise long
enough to make arrangements. They had become pretty good at blending in and not
drawing attention to themselves. No one would look twice at a gray-haired
grandmother and her five-year-old grandson.

“I can handle them,” she said. She’d
evaded Stephen this long. She would do it again. She didn’t want to keep
running, but she would. For Abby, she would do whatever it took.

“And just how will you do that?” he
demanded.

Sara set her cup down before her shaky
hand spilled it all over her lap. “I’m not going to involve you,” she said
quietly, staring at her hands instead of him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m already involved,” Murphy pointed
out.

Sara shook her head. “No, you’re not.
All you have to do is drop us off at the garage in town and drive away. Or,
drop us outside of town where no one will see your vehicle and we can walk into
town. Yes, that’s a better idea.”

Murphy exhaled sharply, causing her to
look up and meet his angry eyes. He leaned forward and pinned her with a hard
glare.

“Walk into town?” he repeated. “May as
well hang a sign around your neck that says
come and get me
.”

“But--”

“No buts, Sara. In case you didn’t
notice, someone went to a lot of trouble to destroy your cabin. They’ll be waiting
and looking for you, and I doubt they’re going to be nice when they find you.”

Sara flinched. If Stephen found her, he
wouldn’t be nice at all. She knew how cruel the Benchleys could be. But how did
Murphy?

“How do you know that?” she cried.

Murphy’s face hardened. “By the damage
to your cabin and what you said when you broke down.”

She couldn’t remember what she’d said,
but she knew it wasn’t much. She was too careful. Even in her distraught state
she wouldn’t have given anything away. Not with Abby’s life at stake. He was
simply too observant. She regretted losing it in front of him now. He’d used it
to put the pieces together, and that wasn’t safe for him. She owed it to him to
keep him as far away from her and Abby as possible.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, but it
doesn’t change anything. I won’t ask anything else from you except for a ride
to town.”
Please, please let it go
, she prayed silently. She had a
feeling Murphy could make the mute tell him everything he wanted to know.

“Sorry, can’t do it,” he said moments
later.

Sara gaped at him. “What?”

Murphy lifted his cup to his lips and
took a slow drink, then took his time setting it back on the table. He leaned
back in his chair. “No.”

He would make her hike down the mountain
alone? She jumped out of her chair and slammed her hands down on the table.
“It’s a ride, Murphy! How can you say no?”

Murphy’s eyes narrowed and he rose
slowly to his feet. Sara would have cowered if she wasn’t mad at him for
denying her. He had no reason. She could tell by the look in his eye he wanted
them gone as much as she wanted to go.

“I can say no because the rain will have
the road washed out by morning,” he said in a low, stony voice.

Sara wanted to draw back, but she
didn’t. When he leaned over the table like that, intensity rolled off him in
waves. She had never met a presence so powerful. Almost more than she could
take, but at the same time it drew her.

“Then we can leave now before it washes
away.”

“It’s Sunday. The garage is closed.”

“For someone who doesn’t want company,
you sure are hampering my plans,” she said wearily, dropping back down into her
chair. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and let out a sigh. “I’m really too
tired to argue with you. Please, just tell me that you’ll take us into town
when the road is open. Please.”

Instead of answering, Murphy picked up
their cups and carried them to the coffee pot, where he refilled them.

“Thank you,” she said when he set hers
in front of her. Sipping it slowly, she waited for him to answer. He was her
only chance of getting to town; he couldn’t turn her down. He just couldn’t.

Murphy didn’t sit this time. Instead he
propped a hip against the counter and studied her. “I’ll have your car repaired
under one condition.”

Sara stiffened, knowing she wasn’t going
to like the condition. “Which is?”

“You tell me who you’re running from.”

* * * *

He wanted answers.

Sara was running scared. She tried to
hide it, but he could tell. No way in hell would he take her to town and leave
her there to fend for herself. What he wanted to do was escort her out of town
and wish her luck with whatever she was involved in. He had helped a woman in
trouble once and it nearly cost him his life.

An image of a young woman with pleading
dark eyes flashed in his head. Begging him to save her. She had broken him and
that day he had given in to his captors and begun to tell them everything they
wanted to know. The day he became a failure as a soldier, son, and brother.

If he helped Sara, what part of his soul
would he lose this time?

Right now she looked ready to flee, but
to her credit she stayed put. Her hands shook when she wrapped them around her
mug. The bandage on her head stood out against her pale skin. She looked strung
out and ready to collapse, but Murphy wasn’t finished with her. He wanted
answers.

“It’s a long story,” she finally said.

“We aren’t going anywhere.”

Her lips thinned into a straight line
and her knuckles turned white on her cup from gripping so tightly.

“I can’t,” she whispered and rose to her
feet. Seconds later she closed the bedroom door behind her, ending the
conversation.

Murphy stared at the closed door.
Couldn’t or wouldn’t? Hell, he shouldn’t want to know her story.

Turning away, he grabbed a cast iron
skillet out of the cupboard and set it on a burner. He pulled eggs, cheese,
peppers, onions, and mushrooms out of the fridge, and busied himself making
omelets. He slid the last one on a plate as the bedroom door opened and Sara
and Abby walked out. Abby looked tired but happy. Sara looked like the walking
dead. The circles under her eyes illuminated her pale skin, and the bandage at
her temple was tinged with blood. Her steps were heavy and her hand shook when
she smoothed Abby’s hair into place. Both looked longingly at the plates set on
the table.

“Eat,” Murphy commanded, laying the pan
in the sink and running water in it. “All I have is orange juice for the girl.”

Sara and Abby sat down. “Orange juice is
her favorite. This was very kind of you.”

Murphy shrugged off the compliment and
turned the water off.

“Aren’t you going to join us?”

He hadn’t planned on it, but when he
turned and saw Abby pointing to the chair beside her with hopeful eyes, he
couldn’t see any other choice. He picked up his plate and carried it to the
table. When he sat down next to her, Abby smiled and ate a big bite of her
omelet.