Realizing how close she’d come to losing Abby to them, Sara twisted away from Murphy and heaved into the tall grass. Dry, wracking sobs immediately followed.
Minutes later a water bottle appeared in front of her nose. Taking gulping breaths, Sara reached for the bottle and took it from Murphy’s hand. She shivered from exhaustion, cold, and emotion. Her hand trembled as she twisted off the cap and lifted the bottle to her lips. She might as well have tilted her head back and drank rainwater with the way her hand shook. Water dribbled down her front and she let out a frustrated breath. On her second try she missed her mouth. With a frustrated cry, she flung the bottle against the tree and bit down on her lip to stifle the sobs rising again.
Damn them for doing this to her and Abby. She wanted to march back to Chicago and…what? What could she do? She was powerless against the Benchleys’ wealth and power.
The thought of losing Abby to them terrified her. It was the reason she’d run in the first place. She knew how Chelsea adored her oldest son, Kent, and had seen the way she doted and turned a blind eye to his affairs and drinking and indiscretions. Sara had been forced to act the same and turn a blind eye to the cheating and lies. For six years she’d allowed the Benchleys to control her. She’d been such a fool. Such a lonely, desperate fool to think a handsome white knight could sweep her off her feet, they’d ride off into the sunset together and he would not turn into a toad at the end of the night.
Abby, the only good thing to come out of her failed marriage, was the only heir from Chelsea’s dead son. Chelsea would go to any lengths to get her granddaughter back.
Sara pressed a fist against her lips in an effort to stop the angry words threatening to escape. She shook so badly now she couldn’t stop. Her stomach rolled and her head throbbed.
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 do
or 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 bac
k 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.
Murphy's Law Page 4