Murphy's Law (5 page)

“This is very good,” Sara said a few
bites later.

Murphy glanced up to see Abby give him a
thumbs-up sign. She had eaten three quarters of hers already. For a little one
she had a healthy appetite. Murphy pursed his lips and looked down at his
plate, feeling the girl’s eyes on him. He already missed his privacy.

They finished in silence. Sara settled
Abby on the sofa with a coloring book and crayons and joined Murphy in the
kitchen. He was elbow deep in dishwater by the time she picked up a towel and
began drying the dishes he’d already washed. He glanced down at her and
frowned. She smiled in return and continued her task. In the small kitchen, she
didn’t have to open many cupboards in order to find out where the dishes went.

When they were finished, Murphy ordered
her into a chair so he could change her bandage.

Eyes wide, Sara said, “Can’t we do it in
the bathroom instead? I don’t want Abby to see the wound. It might scare her.”

He nodded and strode toward the
bathroom. He set out supplies on the countertop while Sara let Abby know she
would be right back. When Sara appeared moments later, he had to stand aside so
she could enter. The bathroom was too small to accommodate both of them
comfortably, so she turned sideways to get by. She sat down on the toilet seat
and lifted her head  to look at him.

He frowned at her. She was too short
sitting there; he wasn’t going to be able to work like this. He slid the
supplies over to the other side of the sink. “Sit up here.”

Sara glanced skeptically at the small
space. “On the sink?”

“I can’t reach you down there.”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

She stood and Murphy stepped back while
she turned her back to the sink and with a little hop landed lightly on the
counter. She let out a tiny groan and squeezed her eyes shut as she swayed
slightly. He moved in front of her and trapped her between his legs to prevent
her from falling. She reached out and wrapped her hand around his forearm to
steady herself.

Her eyes opened slowly and she blinked
to focus. She stared up at him with eyes the color of the sky, holding him
captive. He had never seen eyes quite that color.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I got a little
dizzy.”

He felt her fingers tighten on his arm,
heard her speak, but couldn’t look away. She held him prisoner with her pretty
eyes and angelic face. They were close, her legs dangling between his, their
thighs touching. He felt like a giant next to her. A big, scarred giant.

Abruptly, he stepped back and her hand
fell to her side. She sent him a quizzical look before dropping her gaze to her
lap. Using a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up and removed the
bandage. Her eyes followed his movements as he tossed it in the trashcan at his
feet and picked up a wet washcloth. She continued to watch him as he cleaned
the skin around the wound. Normally he wouldn’t care if people stared, but with
Sara it made him uneasy. His scar was a topic of conversation everywhere he
went, which wasn’t many places these days, and drew all kinds of unwanted
attention. But Murphy had thick skin; he never cared and dared anyone to
comment on it. No one did.

He leaned over to inspect the wound and
instantly felt the air change around them. It wasn’t a subtle change. More like
someone lit a match, flaring instantly to life.

Sara must have noticed too, because she
drew in a sharp breath.

He cursed and straightened. He’d been
too long without a woman. With a scowl he reached for the gauze pads.

“Murphy…” Sara said, her tone soft and
questioning.

“Almost done. You may have a mild concussion,
so no sudden movements.” He pressed the gauze to her temple and secured it with
two thin pieces of tape. Then he covered it with a bandage. He didn’t have
answers for her and wasn’t about to discuss what just happened.

“Did you feel…”

“No,” he snapped, stepping back. “We’re
finished.” He walked out, because he sure as hell couldn’t explain the spark
between them.

Chapter
5

Sara let out a long sigh and slipped
farther down in the tub. Water lapped against her chin. Murphy didn’t have
anything other than bar soap, so she settled for hot water and solitude.
Putting Abby to bed had been a chore. She’d awakened after half an hour with a
nightmare and Sara had to lie down with her until she fell asleep again. She
hated to see Abby suffering and knew the nightmare wasn’t over for either of
them. They were still without a home and it hurt to think she’d torn Abby away
from the only family she had ever known. A family she would never know. Sara
would make sure of that. Her daughter’s life had been disrupted and Sara was
seeing the repercussions of her decisions. Decisions made out of necessity and
fear of what would happen if she stayed.

A shudder ran through her and tiny waves
rippled across the water. She couldn’t think about that. She’d done the right thing
by leaving. Abby may not understand why she’d been taken from her home and
moved from place to place and forced to wear disguises, but it had to be done.
Sara refused to give up her daughter, no matter what the Benchleys threatened
her with. She wasn’t going to bow to their wishes. Probably the first time in
history someone had dared dispute the rich and powerful family. Leave it to her
to be the first one to screw up. Seemed that’s all she ever did.

Quitting college to work two lame jobs
just to make ends meet was only the beginning of a long list of mistakes. Then
she’d married the first charming guy to come along on a white horse, sweep her
off her feet and whisk her away to a castle in the hills. That had to be the
biggest mistake of all. What a fool she’d been.

“And hindsight is twenty-twenty,” she
muttered, leaning her head on the rim of the tub and closing her eyes. She was
tense again, which defeated the purpose of her bath, so she pushed the thoughts
of her dead husband away and focused on something more productive. Like the man
who’d saved her daughter’s life. Never had she met a man like Murphy. The polar
opposite of Kent. A man like Murphy probably sent most people running. She
suspected he did it on purpose, but she wasn’t buying it.

She bet if she peeled away his layers
one at a time, she’d find a man she could admire. Unlike Kent, who had morphed
into a completely different man after they married. It hadn’t taken long to
figure him out. And when she had, she  hadn’t liked what she’d seen. He’d
changed and not for the better. Especially after Abby was born.

Sara shuddered and berated herself for
slipping so easily into the past. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to do
that anymore. The one promise she’d made to herself on her way out the door.

With a sigh, she sat up in the tub.
“Well, hell,” she muttered. This wasn’t working. She was supposed to be soaking
her weary, achy body, not dwelling on past mistakes. The heat of the water
hadn’t relaxed her; instead she was too wired to sleep. Murphy had retired to
his room when she tucked Abby into bed and she hadn’t seen or heard him since.
If he had a television, she’d go out and watch it for awhile to unwind but
there wasn’t one. Same as a telephone. No computer either, as if he wanted to cut
all ties to the outside world.

Standing, Sara grabbed a towel and
wrapped it around her middle. She inhaled deeply and sighed. Murphy’s towels
smelled like him. Masculine and outdoorsy. She’d picked up his scent when he
trapped her between his thighs earlier and the memory still lingered. So did
the zing of energy that had passed between them. She didn’t know what it was,
but it made butterflies flutter in her stomach. Murphy’s scowl told her he had
felt it, though he masked his reaction beneath a stony expression.

Drying quickly, she slipped into a pair
of drawstring shorts and matching tank top. She had gotten out of the habit of
wearing lacy nightgowns when Kent moved out of their bedroom after Abby was
born. He had said they made her look sexy. They hadn’t made her feel sexy, they
made her feel cheap.

Disgusted with herself, Sara hung up her
towel, cleaned out the tub and stepped out of the bathroom into the darkened
living room. She checked on Abby, who slept soundly, and tiptoed into the
kitchen for a glass of warm milk to help settle her nerves. Murphy’s door was
closed so she tried not to make any noise as she took a pan out of the cupboard
and poured milk into it. No microwave, so she warmed it on the stove.

She looked around his cabin. Sparse, almost
to the point of utilitarian. No extras and very efficient. Like the man.

Placing the pan over the burner and
turning it on, Sara propped a hip against the counter. Murphy’s cabin was much
nicer than the one she and Abby had rented. The owner told her it was a hunting
cabin and not typically rented to women. He warned her about the animals
hanging on the walls and hunting paraphernalia before she agreed to it. It
hadn’t bothered her too much that there was a stuffed head above the fireplace.
Abby had wrinkled her nose and shuddered and kept casting wary glances at it,
though.

Murphy didn’t have any stuffed animals
hanging on his walls. In fact, he didn’t have anything hanging on his walls. No
pictures or knickknacks. Nothing that hinted where he came from or who he was.
She knew why she didn’t carry any pieces of her past with her, but why didn’t
Murphy?

The milk started to simmer so she turned
off the burner, poured it into a glass, and quickly washed the pan in the sink.
She carried the glass into the living room and stood in front of the window,
staring into the darkness. Rain still poured down, bouncing off the roof, and
washing out the road.

She sipped the milk and stared into the
night. Her past lay in wait somewhere out there. A past that wouldn’t let her
move on. And she so desperately wanted to move on. Start over. Do things right.

A  sigh of weariness escaped her as she
rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. Lord, she was tired. Tired of running
and living in fear. She wanted to settle down in a town where no one knew them,
and start a new life. Just her and Abby. Maybe she’d go back to school and
finish her degree. Put Abby in a nice school, save up enough money to buy a
house and get a dog. A big, furry dog for Abby to play with in the back yard,
happy and free.

A smile tilted her lips at the thought
of Abby playing in a big yard with a puppy. That’s what she wanted for her
daughter. Freedom to play and laugh without the fear of being taken out of her
home in the middle of the night and moved around from place to place. How could
she accomplish that? At this point everything seemed impossible. She couldn’t
fight the Benchleys. She didn’t have their money or power. They would get what
they wanted and she was powerless to stop them.

She pressed her forehead against the
cool glass. What was she going to do? They were running out of places to hide
and she had no family left, no friends. No one she could turn to for help. Her
savings used up, her jewelry pawned in order to keep her and Abby fed the past
months. Getting a job was out of the question for fear they would track her if
she used her real name. She could sell her SUV to buy a cheap car and live on
the rest of the money after she got the tires fixed.

Tears welled behind her closed eyelids.
What would she do then? Couldn’t leave town without gas money and she couldn’t
stay. Stephen was here. He would eventually catch up to her and now she had no
means to run. She considered robbing a bank and let out a low, harsh laugh.
She’d lose Abby for sure then. Maybe she could humble herself to ask Murphy for
another favor and see if he would loan her some money to fix her tires and pay
for the destruction of the cabin.

The burden on her shoulders grew
heavier. How would she get through this? Never had she felt more alone. She
wasn’t able to provide for her daughter, she couldn’t pay for damages Stephen
caused, she couldn’t fix her SUV, and she was trapped in this quiet cabin in
the mountains with a man who made it clear he didn’t want her here. The walls were
closing in and options were running out.

Tears slid silently down her cheeks and
she didn’t try to stop them. Losing Abby had almost broken her. Nothing the
Benchleys had done could do that, but the thought of going on without Abby was
more than she could handle. She knew she would get through the rest, but not
without her daughter. Abby’s sweet, innocent face floated in front of her and
Sara’s shoulders shook with anguish of what she’d almost lost. The glass in her
hand slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. A light snapped on.

“What the hell?”

Sara heard the low growl and jumped, her
head snapping up and her hand going to her eyes to wipe away the evidence of
her tears. She turned to see Murphy standing in his doorway, glowering at her.

Horrified, Sara wiped her eyes and
turned away but he stopped her.

“Don’t move.”

She obeyed and stood frozen in place,
struggling to bring her emotions under control. He must think she was a weak,
emotional female because she continued to break down like this in front of him.

He strode into the utility room,
returned with a broom and dustpan, and propped them against the wall. He swept
her into his arms, holding her against his chest as he carried her to the sofa.
Sara clung to his neck, the heat of his body seeping into hers. The rigid set
of his strong jaw made her want to smooth her hand over it, apologize for
waking him. He deposited her on the cushions and left her there while he
cleaned up the broken glass and spilled milk.

Embarrassed that he had to clean up
after her, Sara swung her legs to the floor, wiped her face, and stood.

Murphy crouched on the floor, sweeping
glass into the dustpan. He glanced over his shoulder at her and scowled,
stopping her in her tracks.

“Sit down before you fall down,” he
ordered.

Deflated, Sara dropped onto the sofa.
Maybe she should just go to bed and pretend she hadn’t made a mess of her life.
She really needed to feel Abby’s arms around her right now. To know she was
safe. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so alone.

Fresh tears threatened as she watched
Murphy finish cleaning up the mess and dispose of it. He did it without
complaint or comment and with quick, efficient movements that wasted no time.
When he finished, he returned the broom and pan to the utility room and came to
stand over her, eyes probing.

It hurt her neck to meet his eyes so she
stared at her lap. “I’m sorry about the glass.”

“I don’t care about the glass.”

Her back stiffened. “I’m sorry you had
to clean up my mess.”

“I don’t care about the mess.”

“I’m going to bed.” She sighed and
started to stand.

He pushed her down with a hand on her
shoulder and sat on the coffee table in front of her, his knees trapping hers
so she couldn’t escape. The determined look in his eyes told her he wanted
answers.

Sara knew she looked like hell when she
cried. Her nose got red and her eyes got puffy. She sat back against the sofa
cushions and wished they would swallow her up so she could avoid this
interrogation. She doubted Murphy would show any mercy.

“Why the tears?” he demanded and handed
her a paper towel to wipe her nose.

Sara took it and dabbed her eyes before
blowing her nose. She took a shaky breath before answering and hoped Murphy
would go easy on her.

“I had a moment.”

Murphy pinned her with a hard stare.
“What was this ‘moment’ about?”

Had she said easy? Surely not.

“It doesn’t matter.”

His hand snaked out and gripped her
chin. “It does matter. What’s wrong?”

Oh, life
. “I almost lost
my daughter, that’s upsetting.” She met his eyes but didn’t try to pull away.
Why bother? He wouldn’t let her go until he was ready.

Murphy searched her eyes and she knew he
saw more than she wanted him to. “There’s more to it than that.”

Merciless.

“Yes, and I’m not talking about it. I’m
fine now.”

The calluses on his palm scraped her
skin when she talked. It wasn’t an uncomfortable sensation, just different.
Kent’s hands had been smooth and well groomed. As a lawyer, he never saw the
physical side of labor.

Sara stared into Murphy’s eyes and saw a
reflection of herself. Someone alone in the world keeping secrets. His scars
were a testament to that. He masked it well, but she wasn’t fooled. This man’s
emotions ran deep. She had a feeling if she ever tapped into them it would send
her into a tailspin and when she finally stopped, she would never be the same.

“I’m not usually this emotional,” she
said. “I’m sorry you had to witness it again.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes slightly. “I
won’t allow you to stall me for long, Sara. I will get answers.”

His words were spoken softly but not
without threat. Her blood ran cold. She didn’t want him involved in her
nightmare.

Rising and pushing past his legs only
because he allowed her to, Sara murmured goodnight and disappeared into the
security of her bedroom. As she closed the door behind her she felt her resolve
weakening.