Murphy's Law (The Bounty Hunter Series - Book 1) (7 page)

“You can’t. But I’m your best thing going right at the moment.”

“Don’t listen to the bitch,” the sheriff said.

Boots shuffled along the barn floor. “I’m outta here,” the buffoon said. His footsteps picked up pace as he rushed to the door. A few seconds later, the sound of a truck door slamming and then the roar of the engine filled the tense air.

Echo said, “One down, Sheriff. I got all day to talk these guys into defecting.”

“No need, honey,” the tall, older guy said. “Sheriff Hornsby, your time is up.”

“What the fuck you talking about? I’m the brains of this operation. Why, you ain’t going to get far without me. Fact is, you make a move without me and your ass will be in jail, locked up.”

“Not gonna happen,” the big guy promised.

She heard the click of the trigger a second before the shot blasted through the air.

Murphy watched the flash of gunfire. The sheriff didn’t even get a word out before his dead body hit the ground with a heavy thud.

The shot still pulsed in his ears. He figured shock kept them all rooted to the spot. He became aware of Echo trembling beside him. Slowly, he eased behind her, taking the gun from her shaky hands. Carefully, he tucked it in the back of his jeans. “Good job,” he said under his breath.

To his surprise, she didn’t fight him for control of the weapon. She didn’t put up any resistance at all. “Hitting hard. Vision coming and going,” she whispered so only he could hear.

Now he knew why she gave it up. Someone had to have their wits about them.

“Fuck,” the boss swore. “Didn’t want to do that now. We coulda used him for a while longer. Boys, get him outta here. Dig a grave and dump him in it. Make sure no one’s around.”

Murphy guessed they were too stunned to say anything, or too scared to refuse. They jumped to follow commands, getting a tarp and rolling the sheriff’s body onto it.

“You two,” the boss said. “Come with me.”

With his hand on her elbow, Murphy guided Echo out of the cramped, broken-down stall and out of the equally ancient barn. Nearby in a corral, a horse whinnied and reared up. “That’s our boy,” he said to Echo as they both turned to see the horse they’d rode earlier.

“He’s okay,” Echo said on a sigh of relief.

“Don’t take all day,” the boss said. He jerked his head toward the house more than forty feet away. “In there.”

Murphy walked slowly, matching his steps to Echo’s. She nearly sagged beside him. But she kept putting one foot in front of the other. He assumed she was on autopilot and fighting the pain again.

She fought like hell for both of them, even after she discovered the truth about them, about the son they shared.

He loved this woman. He wanted a long life with her and their child.

But he was up against some heavy duty, bad-ass guys.

When everything was said and done, would they let Echo and him live?

***

The house surprised Murphy. Pictures hung on the walls. Knickknacks were scattered here and there, he noted as they made their way through the first floor of the two-story farmhouse. Flowers in a vase stood in the center of the big, scarred kitchen table. A woman’s touch. That had him reevaluating the situation.

The boss had a soft spot. Finally.

Maybe Murphy could save Echo at least.

“Sit.” He shoved Murphy toward a chair at the table. Murphy stumbled, but kept upright, favoring his aching leg. He wanted to punch the guy, but stopped himself. “You, honey, you stay with me.”

“The hell she will,” Murphy bit out, nudging Echo in front of him to a seat. She dropped down into it. Her body slumped. He settled into a chair beside her, propping her up. “She needs water and food to begin with.”

“Hand over the gun.” He leaned against a counter.

“You think?” Murphy scoffed at that.

He nodded to Echo. “She don’t get anything then.”

Murphy dug in his front pocket and pulled out some of the broken pieces of jerky he’d stashed there. He gave them to Echo. She muttered her thanks and began chewing on them.

The boss grunted. “We’re at a stalemate here.”

Murphy bargained. AYou—just you—get us out of here and you get the gold all to yourself.

He laughed. “You think I’d live long enough to spend it? There’s a lot more guys in higher places to answer to.

“You think they’re not going to finger you when people start asking questions about the sheriff?” Echo asked.

“Not me, honey. You.”

For a split second, Murphy stilled. “Now how are you going to do that?”

“Get her to fire my gun. Gunpowder on her hand. Prints on the gun.” He shrugged. “No one’s ever gonna doubt it with the evidence piling up.”

“Motivation?”

“Why, the son-of-a-bitch is gonna be blamed on killing you.”

“That means—”

“You’re a liability.”

“That’s what you say about all your bastard sons, isn’t it?”

Beside him, Echo gasped. He didn’t have time to explain to her.

Murphy stared at the man who’d knocked up his mother and left her high and dry ages ago. “How many you got now?”

“Five, I reckon. Maybe some I don’t even know about. But none as much a pain in the ass as you.”

“Why, thank you.” He forced himself to smile. It was tight and nearly cracked his face.

“Smartass. You were always too damn of a goody two-shoes.”

“You can thank my mama for that. She raised me.”

His father snorted. “Pretty thing she was, but damn if she didn’t try to set me on the straight and narrow.”

“Never could get you to cross over, could she?” It wasn’t so much as a question as it was a statement. “How many times you’ve been in jail? A dozen? More?” He nodded his head toward the barn. “And you’re bringing them into the family business?”

“Brothers?” Echo asked. Her voice sounded weak, her body sagging in her seat.

“Half, I guess you could say.”

“They do as they’re told,” he snapped back. “Not like you. Murphy’s Law. That’s rich, son. You always did have an inflated sense of right.”

“It’s worked for me.”

“Not anymore.” His face hardened. “You working for the feds?”

Murphy didn’t flinch. “What do you think?”

“That’s how your friend answered right before I killed him, too.”

His gut kicked. Two years ago, his friend, Jack, had tapped him for help. A bank heist. Drug dealers. And he needed Murphy to work undercover because Murphy’s older brother managed the targeted bank.

Then the shit hit the fan.

Too many people were dead.

His friend died in his arms. His blood covered his hands, literally and figuratively.

“You’re lucky I haven’t taken you out yet,” Murphy said between gritted teeth.

“You’re a dead man, Murphy. Just a matter of time. That’s a promise, son.”

Echo barely swallowed the last of the hard, tough jerky, never mind keeping everything down. This was Murphy’s father? Her son’s grandfather?

 It still stunned her to think Timmy was hers. Now she knew why day after day in the hospital Storm had placed the baby in her arms. Those times were meant for Echo and Timmy to bond. They’d lain like that for hours, cuddling close. He’d been the reason she fought hard to recover. Somewhere deep inside, she knew he needed her.

She faced the man who would never be a part of her son’s life. A man who rode the wrong side of the law. Murphy’s Law. That’s what all Murphy’s sayings were about. His hard and fast rules for living. He’d turned away from this man and lived a life guided by his sense of justice.
How could she have doubted Murphy?
“There’s one thing you’re forgetting,” she said. “The gold.”

“Torture works well.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m not giving it up.”
How could she when she didn’t even remember where it was?

“You will, when we torture him. And he will when we do the same to you.”

His evil smile sent chills down her spine.

Murphy’s body stiffened beside hers. He didn’t outwardly react. But she knew his mind conjured up ways to kill his own father first.

“Bastard,” she bit out.

He scratched the side of his face. “Nope. My daddy and momma were married.”

“Does she know?” Murphy asked, nodding to the flowers and then the rest of the kitchen. “Your new woman?”

That wiped the smug look off the older man’s face. “You leave her out of this, Murphy.”

“Hit home, did it?” Murphy baited.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Then you know exactly what I’ll do for my woman.”

His cold eyes looked from Murphy to Echo and back again. Echo sensed the shift in mood.

“That’s right. I’ll take you out first. And, if I can’t, I take her out and then myself, before you ever get the chance.”

Echo sucked in a sharp breath. He’d do it, too.

***

The pulse in her temple throbbed wildly. Pain shafted like lightning bolts through her skull.

There was no doubt Murphy would make good on his promise. She couldn’t hate him for that; she knew it was his way to protect her from the torture. For she had little doubt that the bastard would follow through on his threats. Hadn’t she just seen him kill a man in cold blood?

“She’d do the same for me,” Murphy said.

And there it was, out in the open. He’d just directed her to take him out, too, in the same situation. Could she?

Now that she knew about Timmy, she wasn’t certain she could risk it. Or maybe she had everything to risk now.

Echo leaned back in the chair, folding her arms over her chest. “Right about now, taking you both out sounds like a good idea.”

“You are a bitch,” the older man said.

“Yep. Proud of it, too.” She let that sink in.

Murphy chuckled. “Let’s call a truce, shall we? I got an idea. You drive. We’ll direct you where the loot is.”

“That’s it?” his father and Echo asked at the same time.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a good idea or even a complete idea. I just said I had an idea.”

Echo groaned. The black edges crowded in her line of vision again. Whatever happened, she knew she had to rely on Murphy to help her. That rankled.

“Really now?” a male voice asked from the doorway. He’d come out of nowhere.

She may not be able to see him fully, but Echo heard a familiarity in that voice. Murphy stilled.

“Hell, Murph, you’d screw your own brother out of his share?”

***

“Jesus Christ,” Murphy mumbled, staring at the man standing in the kitchen doorway. The man’s frame matched what he knew, but the size didn’t. He’d lost weight. A lot of it. And the face. The features had to have been operated on. Plastic surgery?

He didn’t look like the man he once knew. But the voice. That was the same. And the eyes. Those were the eyes of his dead brother’s.

“Gerald?!” He felt Echo shift and grip his forearm. “You’re alive?” Shock crushed him. “You were dead. I ID’d you. The dental records matched.”“Payoffs,” he confessed. “The burnt body in the warehouse obviously wasn’t mine. Got a great sub, don’t you think? Some poor, homeless bastard fit me to a tee.”

“How? Why?” Echo asked.

Murphy zeroed in on her body next to his, her strength. He didn’t just want her. He needed her. And he hoped to hell she’d still be there for him once everything came out in the open.

“You were in on it.” His mind raced. “When?”

He slapped their father on the back. “Daddy here showed me the error of my ways. All that money, just sitting there. Now how the hell am I, a bank manager, ever going to make that kind of cash?”

“When?”

“I’m a chip off the old man’s block. I got to thinking I’m not a junior for nothing. Long hours wasted in that godforsaken place. People coming and going, cashing in and out. Daddy comes and asks for a loan. We got to talking.”

Their father jabbed him in the shoulder. “You’re talking too much now. Shut the fuck up.”

“All right,” he said, and then nodded to Murphy. “So, little bro, you got our dough?”

***

Less than an hour later, Murphy sat in the back of another four door truck with Echo by his side. His brother rode up front in the passenger seat while his father drove. His henchmen, Murphy’s half-brothers, followed in their own truck not far behind.

“Where now?”

“Colorado,” Murphy said in a dull, flat voice.

“Hey.” His brother twisted around, saying, “You always liked that place.”

Murphy still couldn’t fathom it. His own brother, the one his mother took in and raised as her own after his mother mysteriously died, double-crossed him. Gerald played and stayed dead for years now. “It wasn’t a home invasion. Or a kidnapping. You were a part of it from the beginning.”

“I always knew you’d eventually figure that one out.” The face, so unlike what he’d known, captured his attention. He’d had a whole lift; even his eye shape had changed. His nose. He had a chin implant. Even his lips were different shape. He studied all of it. “Like it? It cost a fortune, but it was the only way I could live under the radar. Got accounts set up for the dealers. They like having me around, if you know what I mean.” He shrugged and turned away, apparently not liking the close scrutiny.

“Did your wife know?” Echo asked with her head back and eyes closed. Her pale complexion clued Murphy into the fact she was fighting another round of motion sickness.

He laughed. “You really can’t remember, can you? Echo, you knew before she eventually did.” He stuck his thumb in Murphy’s direction. “So did he.”

Echo snapped her eyes open and sat up straight. She jerked her head around to look directly into Murphy’s green-eyed stare.

He didn’t waver or blink.

God, with her stomach twisted in knots, she could still be sucked into his brand of heat. Her body flared. She still wanted him. But, damn, what had he gotten her into?

“It’s the truth,” he said.