Murphy’s Law: Murphy’s Law Book One

by Michelle St. James

  She nodded.

  “No. Does that bother you?”

  She held his gaze. “No.”

  Her voice was firm and he was aware of a release inside his chest, of letting go of something he’d been holding onto before he’d told her.

  Fear that she wouldn’t understand? That what was between them would end before it had begun?

  “So you kept doing it?” she asked. “After this man… after you killed him? You started your business?”

  “I realized that in spite of the people who try to make it work, the law didn’t always do its job. I realized that in some cases an apology from the police or the prosecuting attorney wasn’t enough. Sometimes the families of victims need more.”

  “You haven’t had to worry about the law? About getting caught?” she asked. “They would consider you a criminal now, wouldn’t they?”

  “We’re careful. Extremely careful. Our financials are airtight. We pay taxes. Log our clientele religiously even though many of them use shell companies to hide their identities. We have employee manuals that detail our investigative and security policies in case anyone comes snooping, and we have investigators and security consultants on file to do that work, which provides a certain amount of cover as well.”

  “And you’ve never had a close call?” she asked.

  “Not that we know of.”

  The flight attendant reappeared in the aisle. “Sir, we’ve been given the go-ahead to land.”

  Ronan nodded and set Julia’s feet down, meeting her eyes across the small space that separated their seats.

  He smiled. “Buckle up."

  24

  Julia was still thinking about Ronan’s sister as they headed into the city from the airport, Ronan silent beside her in the backseat. His story had moved her, both because of his loss and because of the force with which he’d met it.

  She should have been appalled by his line of work. She was a law-abiding citizen. She paid her taxes on time, went back into a store if she was undercharged and pointed it out to the cashier when she received too much change.

  But she didn’t blame him or his brothers for doing what they’d done in the wake of Erin Murphy’s addiction and overdose. Elise was still alive — she was — and Julia still wanted blood, wanted the people who’d taken her, who’d preyed on her, to pay.

  Even her gramps, who’d served his country and built his life on an honor code that included letting the law do its work, had lost faith in the system.

  And what would Julia do if Elise had been hurt, or worse, while in captivity? What if the people who’d done it were able to buy their way out of punishment with connections or high-priced lawyers? Would she be willing to look the other way, shrug and accept that was how the system worked?

  No. She already knew the answer was no.

  She looked at Dubai through the tinted windows of the SUV that had been waiting for them on the tarmac. It was more modern than any American city, sleek metal and glass skyscrapers rising like sculptures into the sky, the roads clean and smooth, a sea of luxury cars with darkened windows moving over them.

  It was like stepping into another world, a Shangri-la that ran parallel to Boston, where almost everything was old and a little gritty. She watched it all pass by on the other side of the glass, wondering which of the shining buildings housed Gold, the club represented by the symbol that had been waiting for her on the other side of the website door.

  Manifest’s website, she now knew.

  The thought of it made her feel like she was sinking into a cold brackish body of water with an anchor on her feet. It was hard to breathe, hard to feel like there was any hope when she and Elise were up against a consortium of connected, wealthy-beyond-her-imagination men who operated from the shadows.

  She pushed it aside. She was here, possibly in the same city as her sister, one step closer to bringing this nightmare to an end.

  It was more than she’d had two days ago.

  She glanced at their driver, a beefy man with dark hair and eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He hadn’t introduced himself, but Ronan had greeted him with a silent nod, the two obviously familiar even if they weren’t chatty. She wondered how many men like him — like the pilot who had flown them from Boston to the UAE, the flight attendant who had served them on the plane — were stationed around the world, waiting to do MIS’s bidding.

  Evidence was mounting that Ronan’s business was more lucrative than she could have imagined. The insight only added to the enigma that was Ronan Murphy, a man who had all the accoutrements of luxury but seemed like he didn’t care about anything but his family, his dog, and getting justice for strangers in the name of his dead sister.

  They pulled onto a road that stretched out over the water, leading toward a skyscraper that rose a half-mile offshore like a billowing metal and glass sail. The reflection of late afternoon light on metal and water was blinding, and she put on her sunglasses as they approached their hotel.

  The sign in front of the building announced it as the Burj Al Arab, and Julia knew immediately she was way out of her league, something that was borne out as they passed through an awe-inspiring lobby with shapely gold columns rising to a soaring ceiling.

  Red velvet curtains, pulled back with gold cord, lined the doorways to adjoining bar and dining facilities, and an elaborate water fountain mimicking a staircase trickled serenely at its center.

  They went straight to a private elevator where Ronan used a keycard to open the doors. He was still carrying one of his duffels, something he’d had to insist on when the bellhops had bowed and scraped to take their luggage.

  Julia wondered what was in it, wondered if she’d ever know. Despite his confession on the plane about Erin, his honesty about the work done by MIS, the boundaries between them were still being established, and she was hesitant to push too hard unless it concerned Elise. She had a feeling Ronan Murphy was a man who told you what he wanted you to know when he was good and ready to tell you.

  “We don’t have to check in?” she asked as the elevator doors closed, the car rising into the air.

  “No.”

  She considered asking for more information, then decided against it. She was finding she enjoyed Ronan’s simplicity, the fact that he didn’t say more than needed to be said, that when he did speak it was to say something that mattered.

  They arrived at the twenty-fifth floor and stepped into another cavernous lobby with marble floors and a staircase flanked with an elaborate gilt banister.

  “Wow,” she said. “This is incredible. Which way is our room?”

  He smiled. “This is our room.”

  She looked around. “This… lobby?”

  He laughed and the sound traveled all the way to her toes, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “This isn’t a lobby. It’s a foyer.” He pulled her into his arms and looked down at her. “It’s the nicest suite with two bedrooms that was available at the last minute.”

  Her heart sank. “Two bedrooms?”

  He exhaled. “I didn’t want to presume. You’re under no obligation to share a room with me, Julia.”

  She bit her lip. “If you’re looking for privacy, you can just say it. No explanation required.”

  He tightened his arms around her waist and looked in her eyes. Her body stirred as he pressed against her. “I think I never want to be away from you again, but saying it out loud scares the shit out of me, and I was worried it might scare the shit out of you too.”

  She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “It does.”

  “It does?” He sounded disappointed.

  She nodded. “But only because it’s so… — ”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “… crazy?”

  She smiled. “Crazy. And because I feel it too, which makes us both crazy.”

  His expression grew serious. “I’m thinking I can live with this kind of crazy.”

  “Me too.”

  He lowered his head to hers, his lips tender as his tongue exp
lored her mouth. It was the first time they’d kissed since their night in her apartment, and she sank into it with abandon, her knees weak as he stoked the fire at her center.

  Had she been worried it was an anomaly? That she wouldn’t feel the same consuming passion for him a second time? That it had been a product of adrenaline and their flight from the Whitmore?

  She shouldn’t have been worried. He took her breath away, her panties immediately wet with need for him, the remembered hunger clawing to life inside her body as his rigid shaft pressed against her stomach.

  When he pulled away his eyes were like liquid mercury, more silver than blue, alight with the desire she felt coursing through her own veins.

  “You’ll stay with me,” he said, his voice firm.

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “Good.”

  She smiled up at him. “Now what?”

  He pulled away and picked up his duffel. “Now I take you to dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked. “Did you think accosting women in alleys and then taking them to bed was my dating M.O.?”

  She didn’t want to think about him taking anyone to bed. Anyone but her.

  “No, but don’t we need to get to Gold?” she asked. “Elise…”

  He reached up and touched her face. “I know it’s hard knowing Elise might be out there, that she might be close. But this is where we have to be deliberate. We’ve been on a plane for the last fourteen hours, and we didn’t exactly have a good night’s sleep before that. It’ll be dark soon, and I have another round of intel coming from the firm that might help us when we get to the club. We can’t afford to be sloppy.”

  “So… a date?” she repeated.

  He laughed. “Yes, a date. A hot shower, a proper dinner, and a good night’s sleep will make us both more prepared for Gold tomorrow night.” His expression darkened. “Manifest invited you. They want you here. Whatever’s going to happen, it’ll wait until tomorrow.”

  She wasn’t sure she could concentrate on anything but Elise, but she couldn’t deny Ronan’s logic. She didn’t want to be stupid, not when she might be so close to finding her sister.

  “All right,” she finally said.

  He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re an easy mark, Julia Berenger.”

  25

  Ronan thought about taking her out on the town — Dubai was a feast of fine dining and high-end bars and clubs — but it hadn’t seemed appropriate. Julia was worried about her sister, and while he’d convinced her of the need to wait twenty-four hours before approaching Gold, she probably wasn’t in a partying mood.

  He resisted the urge to climb in the shower with her and instead spent the time making arrangements with the hotel for dinner.

  He was still hoping to talk Julia out of going to Gold. He would be able to work faster and quieter alone, although the danger to Julia was a far more compelling reason to get her to stay at the hotel. But he had his doubts about the efficacy of the plea, and he’d arranged to have an assortment of designer cocktail dresses delivered to the hotel the next day just in case.

  Tonight he wanted to see her as she was, and he was overcome with lust when she emerged from the bedroom wearing a shimmering bronze dress that draped alluringly over her curves and brought out the amber in her eyes. The thin straps offered a tantalizing glimpse of her perfect skin, concealing just enough of her breasts to make him want more.

  He went so long without speaking after she emerged that she shuffled shyly in her heels, looking down at the dress. “Is this okay? I didn’t bring another dress — ”

  He had to clear his throat. “You’re perfect.”

  Her smile had lit up his heart, the room, the world.

  She was surprised when he led her to a boat docked next to the hotel, and she laughed out loud when the sea spray splashed over them on their way to a nearby beach.

  The dining table was waiting for them when they got there, sitting on an intricate carpet, candles flickering across the table’s surface. Two servers stood nearby in formal serving wear, several carts lined up next to them with covered dishes, cocktails, and a portable gas cooktop.

  She turned to him, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “You did this for me?”

  I did it for you. I want to do everything for you, want to spend my life making you happy.

  The table was close enough to the surf that the gentle surf threatened to lap over their feet, a warm breeze blowing in off the water. They’d sipped champagne and talked about nothing more important than the exquisite four-course meal served to them by the hotel staff, some of it cooked on the beach while they watched.

  She was a little drunk, the candles flickering low on the table, by the time the boat came for them. He stood behind her on the way back to the hotel, bracing her body against his as they hurtled through the darkness, the city shimmering like Oz over the water, the hotel rising like a technicolor sailboat.

  He’d wanted to tell the pilot of the boat to keep driving, to carry them out over the water, far away from Manifest and anyone who might try to hurt her.

  Far away from all the things that had.

  He also wanted to take her to bed, slide his hands and mouth over her skin, try to forget that unless he could convince her otherwise, tomorrow they would be at Gold, and Julia would be a target of the men behind Manifest.

  He couldn’t define the oil slick that spread through his stomach at the thought, couldn’t reconcile the fear he felt at the thought of something happening to her with the fact that he’d known her less than two weeks, that no woman had ever made him so afraid.

  By the time they returned to the hotel suite, he was desperate for her. Desperate for the reassurance of her body, warm and alive, under his.

  He closed the door, locked it, and followed her into the foyer. He wasn’t worried about their safety. The Burj Al Arab had famously excellent security, and he’d paid Amari, the bodyguard who’d picked them up at the airport, to position some of the UAE men they had on retainer around the hotel for good measure.

  No one was getting to the Royal Suite tonight.

  She set her bag on the table by the door and laughed as he swept her into his arms.

  “I think I’m a little drunk,” she said.

  “Maybe I should put you to bed in the other room. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  She tightened her arms around his neck and touched her lips to his. “I’ll complain to management if you don’t.”

  He slipped his tongue between her lips as he started for the suite’s master bedroom. She tasted like champagne and strawberries. Like danger.

  He was already hard for her, his body primed for the paradise of hers.

  The bedroom was a cocoon of magenta and gold silk. The ebony four-poster bed sat on a platform at one end of the room, a wall of glass opposite, the waters of the Persian Gulf glistening into the distance under the light of a full moon.

  He set her down on the platform at the bottom of the bed and stood behind her, his feet on the floor so that she was a foot above him, on a pedestal where she belonged.

  He stood back to look at her and she reached out for him. “Come back. I’m cold.”

  “You’ll be warm soon enough,” he said, letting his eyes sweep her body, the dress like liquid bronze in the moonlight. Her legs were long, her calves muscular in black heels that added four inches to her height. “Take it off.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you should take it off.”

  “No,” he said sharply. “Here you do as I say.”

  He watched her face for signs of anger or distaste. When he saw only desire there, his cock got harder.

  She slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor around her heels. She wasn’t wearing a bra again, and her breasts stood plump and full, her nipples rosy and erect.

  He could almost taste th
em on his tongue.

  He was surprised to see that she wasn’t wearing underwear either. The fair hair between her legs was a faint shimmer, the cleft between them a hidden forest he was hungry to explore.

  “You know what I want,” he said.

  She turned around without question and his cock pressed painfully against his pants. Her shoulders were strong, her back shapely as it dipped to her waist, an infinite hourglass. Her ass was perfectly formed, ripe for his teeth and his tongue.

  She was everything he needed — everything he wanted.

  He pulled a condom from his pants and stripped off his clothes as he stepped toward her, leaving them on the floor and stepping onto the platform behind her.

  She gasped when he grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him, his cock nestling into the valley of her ass, his swollen head bumping against the small of her back.

  He moved his hands around to the front of her body, up her stomach to her breasts. He took them in his hands and squeezed, thumbing her nipples until she sighed.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Julia.”

  She lay her head on his shoulder and turned her face toward his. “I need you inside me.”

  He put his knees behind hers, used them to push her forward onto the bed. She rose on all fours at the edge of the mattress, her ass spread out, giving him a perfect view of her glistening pussy.

  He knelt on the floor at the foot of the mattress, buried his face between her legs, and licked his way through her folds all the way to her ass.

  She moaned long and low, and he slid two fingers inside her pussy, working them back and forth while he put pressure on the rosebud of her ass with his thumb.

  “You’re so fucking wet, Julia. So sweet.”

  He removed his fingers and bent his face to the reservoir between her thighs, lapped at her juices until he thought he might come from the sheer pleasure of her taste on his tongue, the way she pressed against his mouth as her breath rasped into the room.

  His arousal skyrocketed when she used one of her own hands to stimulate her clit, and he had to force himself back from the precipice of orgasm.