Murdoch

by C J Matthew

  Well, hell. Wonder what brought her to my house? “All right. Let’s see if the Doc is okay with moving her inside.”

  “Wait sir, the car door is jammed. It’ll take a couple of us to pull it open.”

  He gave the guard’s expressionless face a hard look. No one, especially no employees or house staff, knew he and his brother were sea dragon shifters. But over the years, several of his security staff witnessed his better-than-human physical strength. He could help with the door, careful not to appear stronger than a human.

  When the doctor smiled and started flirting with the patient, Murdoch knew she wasn’t in danger. He pulled out his phone and called Murphy’s housekeeper.

  “I have an accident victim at my door,” he explained. “Could you call the lady who helped out when you had your surgery? See if she can come here right away. Spend a night or two? However long the doctor recommends for a recovery period.”

  “Certainly, Murdoch, I’ll call her now. Alert your team at the gate to expect her and I can have Bridget with you in under an hour. Do you have any food in the house?”

  “If Bridget or my guest need anything I don’t have, we’ll get the grocery and pharmacy to deliver.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The doctor approached him. “I recommend we transport Ms. Bartello to the hospital but—”

  “What’s wrong?” He stiffened and took a step toward the woman in the wrecked car.

  The doctor tugged his arm. “Slow down, son. She’ll be fine. I mentioned the hospital as an alternative to her staying here, since you have an all-male household. The poor woman. How can she be comfortable?”

  “Is that your only concern?” His shoulders sagged with relief.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Doctor, I respect your traditional attitude. I’ve retained a housekeeper, Ms. Bridget. She’s on her way here right now to look after our patient and stay as long as you say we need her.”

  The doctor’s light blue eyes widened with surprise, then his creased face beamed with approval. “Good man. Let’s get Ms. Bartello out of that wreck. I want two of your strongest men ready to carry her, chair style.”

  “Or I could carry her myself,” Murdoch offered.

  “We’ll let the lady decide. Best to transfer her to a couch. In a warm room with a fireplace maybe? And a TV? Until Ms. Bridget can get her guest room ready. Any bedrooms on the main floor?”

  “Several.” He eyed the fanciful physician. And almost offered to fill Ms. Bartello’s room with roses and chocolates. Instead, he bit his tongue. “Let’s get the vehicle door open.”

  He signaled to Ryan, the security supervisor. “We’ll need two men familiar with a chair carry. After we get her car door open, they’ll carry the patient to the sofa in the library”

  “Right, sir.” Ryan signaled to another uniformed guard and they stepped forward.

  Murdoch ducked his head to peer inside the crumpled car. In profile, the curvy brunette appeared to be biting her bottom lip. Was she blinking back tears? A wave of warmth surged over him. Poor thing. What business did she have with Murphy?

  He gently cleared his throat. “Um, Ms. Bartello, I’m Mr. Rudraige. As an employee you’re used to first names. Here we’re more formal. Please call me Mr. Rudraige, and let me tell you how sorry—”

  Her head turned slowly until she faced him. The deep brown eyes were moist, but he was no longer certain it was caused by tears. Her eyes widened, and he experienced a wave of dizziness. This close, he could see tiny golden flecks in her irises. Framed by unbelievably long eyelashes. She was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.

  “Murphy?” she whispered. “Really? It’s been a hell of a day, but I did it. I actually made it.”

  His dragon raised its head.

  Then Ms. Bartello smiled. A radiant smile that curved her luscious lips up and open. Exposing straight white teeth. “I’m Annalisa,” she whispered, and her plump cheeks bloomed in a soft shade of pink.

  His dragon swirled his long, barbed tail, demanding to get out.

  “Murphy,” she sighed.

  The dragon snorted and rumbled his protest. We are Murdoch. She is ours. Not Murphy’s. Tell her.

  Oh no, Hell no. Murdoch lurched straight up and smacked his head on the top of the door frame. “Son of a—”

  “You all right, son?” The doctor scooted forward.

  What the hell was going on with his crazy dragon? This was no time for dumb Irish fairytales or some cock and bull Celtic tradition about recognizing random women. He rubbed his head. “I’m fine.”

  Murdoch turned to the grinning guards. “A little help here, with the door.” After checking that the door was unlocked, he warned Ms. Bartello, er…Annalisa, to turn her face away. Pointing one guard to each side of the frame, he took the center and gently pulled.

  Nothing.

  “Let’s increase our effort gradually. I don’t want strips of metal cutting anyone. Especially not me.” The dragon gave him a mental kick in the butt.

  “Okay,” he muttered. Got it. No self-deprecating remarks in front of the lady. But no matter how crazy this beast gets, the woman means nothing to me.

  “On three,” he said. “One two, pull.” The door creaked, and a metal part screeched.

  “It’s moving,” Ryan said. “A little more brute force.”

  “One, two, pull,” Murdoch said. The tearing and screeching made his ears ring, but the door and the top of the frame came off in their hands. Ryan had braced himself and stood his ground. Murdoch and the man on his left staggered back when the door gave way.

  He bent forward to make eye contact with Annalisa. “All clear. Doctor’s orders, you’re going inside to rest on a comfy couch in a room with a fireplace. You have a choice of transport. I can carry you or two men will form a chair lift.”

  The dragon snarled and snapped huge teeth. No other man touches her. Mine.

  The doctor tapped him on the shoulder and Murdoch gladly stepped back. Good timing. The older man wanted to speak to his patient and meanwhile, he needed to have a serious talk, hell, he needed to pound some sense into his off-the-rails dragon.

  “If you don’t mind,” Annalisa said to the doctor, “I came all this way to deliver a message to Mr. Rudraige. I’d prefer he carry me to the couch.”

  Smug, the dragon settled down, curling his long tail around his short legs and oversized claws. Murdoch started when the damn beast actually heaved a contented sigh. For crying out loud.

  He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and gave the medic a nod. “Doctor, if you’ll supervise the extraction?”

  “Good. First let me check her legs. They look unimpeded. Go slowly.”

  Annalisa slipped her arms around Murdoch’s neck and he slid one arm under her knees. Then he lifted slowly and carefully. Not easy when his dragon realized what was happening and started prancing around like a total fool. As Murdoch stepped back and straightened, he realized they were in a circle of uniformed men.

  “Thanks for your help,” he said quietly, “Now back to work.” The guards scattered. “If you’ll lead the way, Doctor. And open the front door. Inside, we’re going left down the hall to the library.”

  The physician set a slow stately pace. Which gave Murdoch time to enjoy the feel of Annalisa in his arms. Her hair tickled his neck. The gentle fragrance of shampoo filled his nostrils. It would have been a wonderful interlude if it hadn’t been for his dragon. Not satisfied with Murdoch carrying the woman, the beast offered vivid suggestions for her immediate seduction.

  Stop right now, he mentally shouted at the dragon, or I swear, I’ll drop her.

  Horrified, the dragon froze. The graphic mental images of kissing and undressing Annalisa, of claiming her with rough sex on top of his hoard disappeared.

  Chapter 4

  Annalisa

  Breathing in the salt-laden night air, Annalisa resisted nuzzling her face into Murphy’s neck. He had facial hair, too long to be scruff but very short and
carefully trimmed for a beard. She discovered an almost uncontrollable desire to stroke it. Were the whiskers soft or bristly?

  He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a chest of solid muscles that flexed when he walked. She certainly wasn’t a lightweight yet he’d lifted her with ease and strolled across the gravel driveway like she weighed nothing. The man wasn’t even breathing hard. He must work out a lot.

  Wearing dress pants and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his tie was gone, and the open top button revealed the smooth tanned skin of his neck. What a coincidence, he looked like a business executive just home from the office before he changed into casual clothes.

  Or, Annalisa’s inner critic snarked, like a billionaire pissed that an employee just ruined his front gate. Should she apologize again?

  No, she was here, at her own expense, to alert Murphy to a critical Muirdris issue. She should, however, as an employee, stop her silent litany of his sexy attributes. She was damn grateful that Muirdris HR’s anti-sexual harassment policy didn’t include private thoughts.

  Where was her phone? Raising her head, Annalisa said, “My bag. I need my bag from the car.”

  Without missing a step, Murphy said, “Doctor, please use the house intercom right inside the door to call the gate. Tell one of the sentries to bring all of Annalisa’s belongings from the car into the library.”

  His voice rumbled through his chest, and the vibration against her body sent a shiver of awareness through her. Which she ignored. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “No problem,” he said, his breath ruffling a strand of her hair. Inside, they crossed over a foyer floor of blue and white marble squares. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. What? No frescos?

  Murphy carried her past a sweeping staircase and turned down the carpeted hall. To her amazement, the library really was cozy. After the foyer and a glimpse of the massive living room with an expanse of glass wall overlooking the ocean, she was expecting something rivaling Beauty and the Beast’s book room. This space did have two walls of floor to ceiling shelves, but the overall size was more Long Beach middle class than Boston billionaire. The wood burning fireplace appeared almost rustic.

  Murphy set her gently down at one end of a cushioned sofa, her feet up and her back propped against the armrest. The doctor placed his black bag beside the sofa, pulled out his little light thingy and checked her pupils.

  “How’s your head?” he asked, “Your neck?”

  “Achy, not pain. My chin is sore.”

  “There’s a laceration there from the airbag. Also you have a bruise forming on the edge of your eyebrow. Were you wearing glasses?”

  Mr. Rudraige looked over the doctor’s shoulder, his handsome face furrowed with concern.

  “Yes,” she said. “I did have on sunglasses.”

  The physician nodded and rattled off a list of head, neck and vision symptoms. “I don’t think you have a concussion, but if you experience any of those signs, call me immediately.”

  “My phone…”

  “Your purse is coming,” the doctor said, “Now, let’s get started cleaning and bandaging those cuts and checking the bruises.”

  “Doctor,” she said, grasping his hand and giving it a little squeeze. “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but there’s something extremely important I must tell Mr. Rudraige before you patch me up. Seriously, I couldn’t relax until he’s made aware of what’s going on and he has examined the evidence I brought.”

  “All right.” The doctor looked like he wanted to protest. Instead, he gave her a brief nod. “I’ll step down the hall, check in with my daughter. Send me word when your business is finished.”

  “I will and thank you again.”

  When the doctor opened the library door, Ryan, the only gate guard whose name she remembered, was there. “Hey Doc, I brought your container of bandages and antiseptics.” He offered a plastic bin.

  “Thanks Ryan, could you put it by my bag over there?”

  “Sure,” Ryan said, coming into the room. She craned her neck to see her oversized purse dangling from one of his wrists.

  “Thank goodness,” she murmured, relief pouring through her.

  Cradled in Ryan’s other arm was her suitcase stuffed inside a large trash can. The corners of her case above the rim of the can looked like they’d been flattened by a steamroller. The zipper gaped open, and bits of her clothing protruded.

  Murphy, um…Mr. Rudraige raised a questioning eyebrow at the trash can, then up to the man holding it.

  Ryan handed over her purse, delivered the bandages, then he faced their boss and squared his shoulders. “The suitcase is heavily damaged, sir, and leaking a white fluid and something pink—shampoo or lotion—I estimate at least two containers of liquid are broken.” He met Mr. Rudraige’s disapproving look. “It was this or a big garbage bag, sir.”

  Annalisa rummaged for her phone, anxious to show Mr. Rudraige the pictures of the emails. “Quick thinking, Ryan,” she murmured. “Thank you. I’d be mortified if anything spilled on Murphy’s carpet.”

  She noticed Ryan’s eyebrow arching. Oh shit. She was brainwashed by the Muirdris tradition of using first names.

  With a little shrug, Mr. Rudraige said, “Good decision, Ryan. Please take the whole mess to the kitchen. We’ll hope Ms. Bridget can salvage something from Annalisa’s clothing.”

  What? Wait. “Is Bridget your cook? A maid?” Why should his servants clean up her suitcase and clothing? She could manage. Before she could call Ryan back, the door closed behind him.

  “Bridget is a temporary housekeeper. She’ll be here soon.”

  “Oh.” She’d check with Bridget after her talk with the boss. Opening her phone, she scrolled to the photos of the emails. Mr. Rudraige was pacing. “Please sit down,” she said, “your hovering is making me nervous.”

  He perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. Hands clasped, he rested his elbows on his knees. “Is this really so important you need to tell me before you get medical attention?”

  “Absolutely.” She began by describing her reactions this morning when she’d opened the emails—only hours ago? She stressed the deadline then handed over her phone, and he read the emails and the attachment carefully.

  By the time she’d finished talking and he’d studied the attachments, she was exhausted. His face was a thundercloud.

  “Ms. Bartello, Muirdris Shipping and I owe you a huge debt of gratitude. If anyone else had shown me these, I would have thought was a joke. But considering all the trouble you went through to bring me this, and what’s happened since you got here, I know these have to be real.”

  She stared at him. True, she’d considered a prank at first, but it never occurred to her that the president of Muirdris might not believe the emails.

  “Do you have any idea who the sender, the conspirator, might be?”

  “No clue,” he said shaking his head. Her heart sank.

  He went on, “I’m hoping someone can trace back these messages.”

  “Me too,” she agreed. “Who will you ask to do that?”

  “You want to know who I trust?”

  “Exactly.” She studied him, especially his hazel green eyes.

  “If you’d asked that same question at lunchtime today, I would have said I trust every employee at Muirdris. Especially the managers and directors because I know each of them personally.”

  Her gaze dropped to her phone. “The stakes are so high, it’s not so easy for me to trust. After I couldn’t get through to Finnian, he went back on my suspect list.”

  Murphy…uh Mr. Rudraige stiffened, and his eyes grew round.

  She waved a hand. “I don’t honestly think he’s selling Muirdris protocols, but when you consider everything that’s at risk here. This is so important, Murphy.” She lowered her voice. “This could destroy your company.”

  “I know.” He dropped his head to his hands. “We need to recruit reliable help. Figur
e out who goes on our short list, keep it to a really select group, and all start digging.”

  She gave her head a little shake. “If we don’t figure out who the bad guy is, if the leak isn’t stopped right away, this could be just the beginning.”

  “Have you told anyone else?”

  “Not a living soul. My best friend Liz knows I’m here in Boston on Muirdris business, but she has no inkling what that business is. Both HR and Finnian think I’m on personal leave.”

  “What prompted you to go looking for Victoria in Boston?”

  She’d already told him about her adventures in the corporate office but didn’t think Victoria answering the support line on a Saturday was relevant. Hearing the story now, he chuckled.

  “Nobody’s assistant would let me anywhere near,” she explained, “because I refused to say why I was asking.” Her arm itched. When she lifted a hand to scratch, Mr. Rudraige gently grabbed her wrist.

  “Let me see.”

  She pointed to a bloody gash above her elbow.

  “I believe,” he said, “there could be a sliver of glass in there. You need to let the doctor check you over, clean those out. Then we’ll talk more.”

  She surprised herself by turning her hand over and fitting it into his. A flash of heat ran through her body. Stop that. She had more important issues ping-ponging around in her brain. What was he going to do while she was getting patched up? Sure, it was the man’s company, not hers, but she had a vested interest both as an employee and now as a whistleblower. She curled her lip. Heroine sounded much better.

  Her hand jerked in his.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Ugly thought. Do you honestly think that truck was trying to break through your gate? Or were they out to eliminate me? Squash me like a bug?”

  “We can’t know for sure.” His grip on her hand tightened. “I’ll admit, I’m concerned they might’ve been after you. That’s why I asked who knew you were coming here to see me and why.”