Murphy's Law (The Bounty Hunter Series - Book 1)

by Laurie LeClair

  “Echo, wait,” he whispered harshly, trying to grab for her arm.

  She dodged him.

  “Get out here now! I got your sister and the kid.” The kidnapper’s gravelly voice jarred a flash of sensory memory in Echo’s mind.

  She tried holding it, but it vanished. In its place, a blast of pain and the wave of nausea returned. God, why did it have to attack her now? She needed all her senses. Not the blunted edges of her brain again.

  “I got one extra. I don’t need both of them. You wanna play?” His menacing laugh made her skin crawl.

  “Bastard,” Storm bit out.

  Timmy’s soft cries slammed into Echo’s heart. She nearly doubled over.

  Murphy grabbed her hand.

  She leaned into him for a moment, gaining strength.

  “You want me?” Murphy asked, pushing Echo behind him as he walked around the corner and into the living room. They’d snapped on the light switch; now the room was bathed in light.

  Nudging him aside, she faced the huge, burly man that held Storm. His beefy hand wrapped around Storm’s hair, yanking her closer. “Don’t get any ideas, girlie,” he snarled.

  Timmy clung to Storm, burying his head in her neck. “Momma. No hurt.”

  She soothed him. “It’s all right, baby boy.”

  Echo ached. Meeting her sister’s gaze, she read the mixture of emotions. Royally pissed, would not come close to the brewing anger lying there. Helpless clouded her blue stare. If it weren’t for Timmy, she knew Storm would have fought until the bloody end.

  Murphy squeezed her hand, half warning, half comforting. “So, you sorry piece of sh—” He stopped himself from swearing. “You going to hide behind a woman and kid? Or you man enough to face me one on one?”

  “Murph, that’s all you got? Man, you’re losing it, buddy?”

  Echo tensed. Murphy knew him?

  “How many times did I put your butt in the slammer, huh? Four? Five?”

  She blew out a breath.

  “Ain’t gonna be no more,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Hah, I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it.”

  “Classy, real classy.” Murphy nodded to Storm and Timmy. “Let them go. You got me now. That’s what you wanted, right?”

  “Yeah, I wanna see your face when I told you I knocked off your brother.”

  Chapter 4

  Murphy jerked back as if hit. “You?”

  He laughed. “That’s right. You effed up and put the wrong guy behind bars.”

  How? Murphy gulped hard. “His wife, too?”

  “Had to. After we got the money and jewels from the home safe, he wouldn’t go along with robbing his bank.” His sinister laughter grated along every one of Murphy’s nerve endings, like fingernails on a chalkboard. “I blew off her hand, then he agreed. Man, he was stupid enough to think we’d let them both go after that. Before he left the driveway, I couldn’t stand hearing her yelling at me. Bang! Gone.”

  His gut twisted. His big brother managed a bank. Up until that incident, Murphy had hunted down wanted criminals for a living. Now, who would have thought his brother’s high-end lifestyle would have got him killed before Murphy’s lowlife bounty hunting had?

  Now, Murphy shifted so he half-blocked Echo’s body. Her hands came up and settled on the back of his waist. In her own way, she’d just comforted him. His heart tripped over.

  “So what do you want me for, Slick? Break your buddy outta jail?”

  “Fuck no—”

  “Hey, watch your language! There’s a kid here.” Timmy’s cries slammed into him. “It’s okay, champ. I’m right here.”

  “He bad,” Timmy said. “Boo-boo. Hand.”

  The slow burn of anger jumped into full-on fury. “You hurt him?”

  Echo held him back. “Not yet,” she whispered. “Follow my lead.”

  “Whatcha gonna do about it? I got a lot worse planned for them.”

  “Let them go,” Echo said with such force that the guy whipped his head around.

  “What the hell?” He looked at Storm, who he still held by the hair, and then at Echo. “Twins? They didn’t tell me that.”

  Doubt lay in his voice.

  “That’s right. You’ve got the wrong sister,” Echo said with smugness.

  Murphy reached around her and tried to push her behind him. That one gesture must have given everything away.

  “Shit!” He cursed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he snarled at Storm, jerking her head back.

  She hissed. Timmy cried, reaching out and trying to shove at the man’s beefy arm. “No hurt, no hurt.”

  “It’s all right, buddy,” Echo soothed.

  “Mommie, stop bad man.”

  “Mommie? What the— even the kid can’t tell the difference?”

  “You’ve got the wrong sister,” she taunted.

  “Bullshit!”

  “Bad,” Timmy said.

  “Does she have a scar on her scalp? Nope. But I do.”

  “What kinda game you playing here?” he growled.

  “You want Murphy, then you let them go.” Echo nodded to her sister and Timmy. “I go in her place.”

  Murphy’s gut twisted. “What are you doing?” he demanded under his breath. But he knew; she was saving them.

  “You wanted Murphy. I brought him to you. You want to know where the money is? He only knows half of it. I know the other half.”

  “You’re bluffing,” Slick said, but he did mash his hand onto Storm’s head and searched for a scar. “Shit,” he hissed.

  “Not there, right?” Echo baited. “I got a four-inch line down the back of my head, apparently from when you or your buddy coldcocked me upside the head after I drove into a concrete wall to kill you two.”

  “You remember?” Murphy asked softly.

  “No,” she answered under her breath so only he could hear. “Storm only went so far in the story.”

  “You! You tried to kill us!” His face turned red. “There was blood and broken bones everywhere. I barely got away before the cops came. I left the money in the trunk. Then the news came out and there was no money to be found. Blames it on us!” He waved the gun between Murphy and Echo. “Which one of you stole it? Or did both of you do it?”

  “Let them go and you’ll find out,” Echo lied.

  ***

  Ice pick-like stabs blasted in her head. Echo gulped hard as the minutes ticked by. His silence pulsed in the air. Would the buffoon go for it?

  Murphy’s strong, steady presence beside her made her braver than she felt. But she’d do anything to protect Storm and Timmy. They were all she had in the world.

  “Don’t move,” he warned. Aiming the barrel at Storm’s neck, he released his hand from her hair and reached behind him. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and then tossed them to Echo. The metal hit the rug with a dull ting. “Pick ’em up. Slowly now.”

  She did as he said, easing forward and grabbing the hunk of metal.

  “Put ’em on him,” he directed, and then grabbed Storm’s hair again.

  The weight of the cuffs was nothing compared to the weight of what she needed to do. Instincts kicked in. She clapped the cuff on Murphy’s right wrist, tightening it slightly, but when it was time to cuff his left wrist, she stopped. Instead, she clamped the other one around her left wrist, binding them together. “He goes. I go. That’s the deal.”

  “God damn it—”

  “Watch your language,” she scolded. “Take it or leave it. You need us both.” She nodded to his other captives. “You don’t need them. They’ll just hold you back.”

  Her sister hissed. Echo faced her, lifting her chin a little higher. Silently, she conveyed her feelings. Protect the baby, at all costs. You’re the best one to do it. Somehow, Storm got the message.

  “He needs food and to be changed,” Storm said softly.

  “Again? You just did that.” He blew out a breath. “All right,” he waved the gun around. “Over there.” He shoved Storm toward the couch.
Clutching Timmy to her, she turned and landed on her side. Easing to a sitting position, she snarled at him.

  Echo knew what that meant. He was going to pay, big time, for everything he was doing to them. God, she wished she could witness the look on his face when that happened.

  “In the closet. Now!” he ordered.

  She looked to Storm. Slowly, she rose from the couch and, still holding a weepy Timmy to her, she went to the foyer closet. Cradling the baby’s head, she kicked out some shoes and boots and made a space from them, and then eased inside to sit on the floor. She glared at the buffoon.

  “Shut it,” he barked at Echo.

  With each step toward the closet, dread settled in her. Murphy, beside her, laced a finger with hers, giving her comfort. At the closet opening, she caught her sister’s stare. Power. Strength. Even now, Storm tried to ease her anxieties. Echo’s gaze went to the baby, his red, teary face nestled in Storm’s neck. Her heart turned over. Blinking back her own sting of tears, Echo nodded to her sister in understanding. No matter what, they would fight.

  “Don’t take all day. Shut it. Now see that latch near the top of the door? You shove it into place.”

  Her blood ran cold. She’d be the cause of them trapped in there.

  “Do it or you watch as I kill them.”

  With a great deal of reluctance, Echo eased the door closed. She’d never forget the arch of light getting smaller and the last glimpse of her family.

  Slowly, she reached up and slid the lock across and into place. Maybe, just maybe, the lock wouldn’t hold when Storm kicked the door out.

  She followed his instructions on exiting the cabin. With frozen movements and her mind numb, she clung to Murphy’s hand and hoped they could get out of this mess.

  But her hopes were dashed when they came upon Murphy’s truck with all four tires slashed. An old, battered van stood a distance away. They trudged to it.

  “Smoke?” Murphy asked softly.

  “You’re smarter than I thought, bozo,” the buffoon said. “Now, get in the back of the van.” He slide the door open.

  Echo turned back, to get one last look at the cabin. Flames licked up the corner of the building. Her heart stopped.

  “What did ya think? I was gonna leave witnesses?” He laughed, and then grabbed Murphy’s arm and thrust him into the back. Off balance, he stumbled and Echo fell on top of him.

  As they drove away, Echo scrambled to her knees and peeked out of the dirty window. Fire and smoke rose into the black night.

  Murphy joined her, gripping her close.

  Her head pounded, the pain intensifying. She could barely focus. But her heart shattered in little pieces. “No, it can’t happen. Not to them.”

  The red flames and the buffoon’s laughter blazed in her blurry mind as blackness closed in on her. “They can’t die.”

  Chapter 5

  Each bump jarred Murphy, his head sometimes banging against the metal wall of the van. The heavy dirt smell filled his nostrils and the grittiness beneath him made Murphy figure they used this van for landscaping.

  In the back of his mind, he wondered if there were tools or emergency road flares hidden close by. The stripped-down van didn’t look like it held much of anything, besides them and the residual dirt.

  He braced himself as Echo’s head lay in his lap. It had taken some maneuvering with their wrists cuffed together to get her just so. He finally figured out to raise his right arm and bring her head under his arm and hold her left hand in his.

  Still, she lay limp. Was she passed out or just exhausted? He couldn’t tell for certain. He’d only seen this type of reaction when she was under extreme anxiety. The doctors warned him it was purely a defense mechanism. Her mind was protecting her. The stress of the night and then witnessing the fire engulf the cabin was just too much for her. It had to have been nearly two hours and still she hadn’t moved.

  The fire! Gulping hard, he prayed that Storm and the baby escaped. She was tough and strong. Been through hell and back.

  Right after Echo lost her memory, Murphy had relocated all of them to this new town in New Mexico and plotted out an escape route from his secret, hidden cabin in the mountains. In the dead of the night, he taught Storm the unmarked trail, where he’d buried a gun, another place for MREs and drinks and things for the baby, another with a map, and the last treasure of a thousand bucks and a set of keys to an ATV to get away. No stranger would ever find the zigzag path to all the buried treasures, but, if Storm remembered, she’d have everything she needed for at least five days out in the hot, dry land.

  If she escaped from the burning cabin. If she recalled the one-time lesson of the track. If…

  He tried to gauge where the kidnapper headed. From the back of the van, all he could tell was there were no lights; only darkness surrounded them. From the feel of the roads, they were driving away from any civilized town, the dirt roads kicking up lots of dust.

  Looking down, he made out Echo’s shape, but couldn’t see her very well. He checked her breathing again, sighing at the evidence she was still with him. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face and let the silky strands slide through his fingers. He could do that for hours. He had as she lay in a coma for long, agonizing weeks. At one time, he had the right to touch her hair and touch her skin. Not anymore. If only she remembered…

  His heart tugged. She’d sacrificed herself, purposely misleading Slick into thinking she knew the whereabouts of one half of the stolen money. Why put herself in that much risk? Was it just to trade places with her sister? Up until Echo made that announcement to the kidnapper, she’d only been exchanging him for her family. But then she’d thrown herself into the mix when he doubted she’d been a target at all, just a means to getting to him.

  Why? A surge of hope sliced through him. Did she remember, anything, a sliver of who they’d been? Of did she feel anything for him, even just a tiny bit?

  He trailed the pad of his thumb over her soft cheek, relishing the freedom to touch her again. Guilty pleasure swept over him.

  Would she ever remember him? Fully, completely recall their love affair? There were times lately he’d lost all hope in her seeing who he really was, her husband. If she didn’t remember him, at least she had this unbreakable bond with the boy she thought was her nephew, but who was really her son. Their son. Timmy.

  Chapter 6

  Echo remained still, allowing him to touch her cheek. That one comforting gesture sent sensory memories careening through her body. The feel, the warmth, the tenderness, the caring... Someone had done that before. If she had to guess, she’d say it was Murphy.

  But when? Why? Had these nagging tugs of emotion for him for months, years even, been real at one time?

  She wished she could remember. But as much as she forced herself, more so lately, the worse her headaches became. That big towering block of nothingness refused to shift. Now more than ever she had to chip away at it. Her sister and the baby...

  Her heart ached. Tears stung her eyes and slowly slid from beneath her lashes.

  His murmur and the way he wiped away the tears had her clasping his hand tighter. “Shhh! Don’t cry,” he whispered. “They’re all right. You would have known if Storm didn’t make it—that bond you two have. And, I swear on my life, I’ll get us out of this.”

  She blinked her eyes open, getting accustomed to the nearly black interior of the van. Focusing on what Murphy said, she blocked out everything else and went to a place she could never explain to anyone. Somehow she sensed Storm was alive, but was still fighting, still in danger.

  Without thinking, she opened his palm and with her finger drew a smiley face. From somewhere that had come so naturally.

  She heard him suck in a sharp breath. That had some meaning to him. But what?

  He threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand in a tight clasp. “You and me.”

  The softly spoken promise caused her heart to ache in a deep, deep spot. They had something, a conn
ection. But would her mind ever let her remember him, remember what they’d been to each other, if anything?

  ***

  Echo slowly sat up as to not bring attention to them. She shifted so now she half leaned against his strong shoulder. The bumps in the road caused her to smash into him. Murphy braced himself against the metal structure, and then pulled her closer, settling her head on his chest and cradling her, absorbing the brutal jostling of the rickety old van.

  She relaxed enough to move with his body, not against it. They found a certain rhythm to sway with the bumps and avoid some of the bruises. It had a certain sensual element to it, making her wonder how it would feel without clothes on, skin to skin. Twin spots of heat bathed the tops of her cheeks. She bit down on a groan, trying to stop the sudden, desperate need spreading through her.

  Were those memories? Dreams? She couldn’t tell. All she knew was she wanted him. Always had since the day she woke up in the hospital and found him there holding her hand and stroking her hair.

  Instant. Hot. Need.

  For a stranger.

  Feelings tumbled then. Desire. Danger.

  They still did to this day. Every damn time she saw him.

  Hiding it, running from it, hadn’t erased the need.

  Now, she realized it would never go away. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

  Her mind hurt with the battle, the self-defense mechanism to shield her from this man. At every step, literally, she took in rehabilitation, he was not far from her thoughts. Danger. For her mind or her heart?

  An answer didn’t come this time either.

  Minutes stretched to hours and farther away from the two people she loved the most in the world. But she refused to wallow in the frightening scenarios her mind plagued her with. Why couldn’t it just reveal her past, instead of taunting her with the possibilities of what was happening to her family?

  Instead, she whispered to Murphy, “Do I know you?”

  He stiffened.