Murphy's Law (19 page)

Ashley threw up her hands. “I'm annoyed because you didn't trust me. Just like you thought I was casing your place this morning—”

“I did
not
think—”

“—You figured I wouldn't like the idea of you sponsoring needy children. What am I? A fiend? A fiendish thief? I like kids, too, ya know.” And with that great parting shot, she turned to stalk away.

Except Quinton caught her elbow and momentum carried her full circle and around into his arms, flat up against his chest. He looked at her mouth. “Damn, you are so hot when you're pissed.”

Her eyes flared and she stiffened her arms against him. A quick look around assured her that no one had heard him. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“No.” His hold softened, became caressing, tender. “But honey, I could offer you a better job, making better pay, with benefits.”

Ice shot through her veins.
Charity.
The man wanted to give her charity. Almost strangling on her hurt, she whispered, “Don't. Even. Think it.”

“Whoa.” He lifted his hands away from her. “Calm down, Ash. I didn't mean—”

“Yes, you did.” Under her breath, so only he could hear, she whispered, “But I don't need a handout, Murphy. I'm not a young helpless kid.” Not anymore.

His gaze softened. His hand, so big and warm, cupped her cheek. He stroked her skin with his thumb and half smiled. “Trust me, I know the difference.”

“Yeah. Well.” He'd taken all her steam with that gentle caress and coaxing voice. “I like this job just fine. They work around my schedule and I make great tips. And speaking of tips, don't you dare think to leave me something outrageous—”

“I'm always a generous tipper, honey. Don't make me become a cheapskate now.”

“I don't need your money.”

“You've just waited on, placated, entertained, and supervised fifteen boys. I think you're up for sainthood. But if you hadn't been waiting on us, you'd have waited other tables, and been tipped. At the very least, you should allow me to be fair.”

She could see no way to argue around that one. “As long as it's not too much, then okay.” And grudgingly, she added, “Thank you.”

“What time do you finish your shift?”

“Not till nine. And before you even ask, I need to study afterward, and do some laundry, and…a bunch of other stuff.”

He looked disappointed but manfully tried to hide it. “When can I see you again?”

“I'm just about due for a break. I can join you for fifteen minutes or so.”

“I'll take it.” He brought his other hand to her face, too. “But when can I be alone with you?”

“You mean, when can we”—Ashley gave an exaggerated, furtive look around the restaurant—“
have sex
again?”

“Tease.” His laugh was quiet and intimate and stirring. “That's exactly what I mean.”

“Sorry, Murphy.” Her own disappointment was vast, but she wouldn't be swayed. “I told you from jump, my free time is limited. We'll just have to play it by ear.”

He stroked her cheeks again and then dropped his hands. “All right. I'll try to be patient. Finish up whatever you have to do, and then join us. The boys will be thrilled.”

“Thrilled, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He glanced over his shoulder at them, and some deep sadness clouded his eyes. “They crave attention and affection. You naturally doled out both to them. Thank you.”

It wasn't the most lavish compliment she'd ever gotten, but coming from Quinton, with so much sincerity, made it cherished. “Hey, my pleasure.”

Another hour passed before all the boys had finished their desserts and drinks and were ready to go. Ashley walked them outside, and to her surprise and pleasure, nine-year-old Oliver held her hand. Bursting with energy, he practically skipped beside her, talking nonstop about the hearing aid Quinton had gotten him, the ride in his Bentley, the cool games he had at his house, his pool, and on and on.

They so obviously loved him that Ashley wondered how she would keep from loving him, too. It wouldn't be easy. But he'd made it clear that his attention came with certain limitations. He wasn't ready for “happily ever after,” and she'd do well to keep that in mind.

The limo pulled up and as the boys started to pile inside, disagreements arose as to who got what seat. It seemed everyone wanted to sit next to “Dad.” Quinton sorted it out with finesse, diplomacy, and firm control.

After instructing all the boys to buckle up, he walked back in Ashley's direction, abashed by the situation, unsure of her reaction, and exhilarated from the outing, all at the same time.

“So.” Ashley grinned. “They call you Dad.”

The statement took him by surprise, and he ran a hand over his head. The limo door stood open, but she and Quinton were far enough away from the car that small ears couldn't hear them over the music already playing and the raucous conversations.

“I'd rather you not make a big deal of it. It's just…they're lacking father figures in their lives.”

“I see.”

He scowled. “I'm around, so they naturally substitute.”

“Okay.” Ashley didn't think there was anything natural about it. Not every male who involved himself in their welfare would be loved enough to earn such a title. “Why didn't you tell me about them?”

For several moments, he stared off at nothing in particular then, resigned, he brought his attention back to her. “I wasn't sure you'd understand.”

“Understand what? That you're a terrific guy?”

His scowl reappeared. “Damn it. I am not—”

Ashley smashed her fingers against his mouth, hushing his objections. “Relax, Quinton. I'm not going to erect a shrine in your name.”

He hesitated, then his frown lifted and he bit her fingertips. Yelping, Ashley jerked her hand away.

“Let me get you alone,” he whispered, “and I'll show you what you can erect.”

Ashley laughed, but her laughter got cut short when Quinton bent and put his mouth to hers. The kiss was brief and sweet, and still it made her melt. “I'll see if I can find some free time.”

“You do that.” He trailed his fingers along her cheek, then dropped his hand and turned around to head for the limo. Ashley followed.

But they both froze at the sight of fifteen faces pressed together to the limo windows. The kids were agog with the idea of Quinton smooching, which told Ashley he hadn't done it often in their presence.

In the next instant, the kids roared with laughter while making loud kissing noises, grabbing each other in mock embraces, and all in all being hysterically funny.

“Rodents,” Quinton said to them with affection. He shook his head, waved to Ashley, and joined the boys in the limo.

It looked like a family reunion when Ashley opened Quinton's office door—well after business hours—and found not only Quinton, but Warren and Adrianna still inside.

Quinton was behind his desk, seated in his big leather chair. Warren paced the floor in front of the desk, and Adrianna had one shapely hip propped on the edge of the desk. The men wore dress shirts and ties, but they'd rolled up their sleeves and removed their suit coats. Adrianna wore a black pencil-slim skirt and white cashmere sweater with black high heels.

Ashley wanted to groan. They all resembled fashion plates, while she wore superlow pale beige corduroy pants with flared legs, a black long-sleeved T-shirt covered in small red flowers, and red flip-flops.

Well, shoot. She hadn't seen Quinton since the night at the restaurant, over a week ago. But she really didn't want to see him now, in a crowd.

She tried to back out, but it was too late. She'd taken only a single silent step in retreat when she was spotted.

“Ashley.” Adrianna welcomed her with a smile. “Hello. It's good to see you again.”

Oops. Busted. “Hey, there. Yeah, uh, I'm sorry to interrupt.”

Warren glared at her, rigid with indignation. “I didn't hear you knock.”

God, he was a sourpuss. “Maybe that's because I didn't. Knock, I mean. I figured the place would be empty.”

“You figured wrong,” Warren informed her.

“Yeah, well…it should have been empty.” She felt guilty and intrusive, and she hated it. “But hey, no sweat, I can come back later—”

“Ignore Warren.” Quinton already approached her with a smile. “His shorts are probably too tight.”

“But—”

“You're only a little early, Ashley. It's not a problem.”

Because she'd hoped to find him alone.

Stupid, stupid plan.

She tried to think of a good excuse, but nothing came to mind. “I guess my watch must be off. But I don't want to interrupt. I can come back to this room later—”

Quinton's mouth on hers ended her refusal. It wasn't a lingering kiss, but neither would she call it a delicate peck.

For her ears only, he whispered, “I missed you.”

Warren hissed a sound of disgust, making Quinton roll his eyes.

Holding Ashley's hand so she couldn't escape, he turned to his uncle. “I think we're done here.”

Warren went florid. “Of course we aren't. We haven't even begun to—”

Adrianna interrupted with a laugh. “It is getting late, Warren.” She fluffed her hair and turned coy. “You know I need my beauty sleep.”

Warren's color increased while he harrumphed and stammered an incoherent reply.

Interesting, Ashley thought. The two of them didn't relate as easily as did Adrianna and Quinton. But then, who could relate easily to Warren Murphy? The man was a real stick-in-the-mud.

“Fine.” Back straight and shoulders tensed, Warren strode to the desk to gather up papers. As he stuffed them into a leather briefcase, he continued to grouse. “But this deal won't seal itself. If we want to purchase the property, we need to make a decision.”

“I want more figures on it first.” Unruffled, Quinton tugged Ashley into the room and toward his desk. One-handed—because he wouldn't release her—he moved aside a folder and uncovered a sheet of paper filled with data. “Give this to McCreedy and tell him to check it out. I want every financial projection he can get.”

Adrianna took the paper. “First thing in the morning, Quinton.”

“Thank you.” He turned, draped an arm around Ashley, and waited for the others to exit. Warren rudely took his time putting on his suit coat while glancing at Ashley, and then Adrianna.

Only the ringing of a cell phone broke the awkward silence.

Adrianna reached for her purse, Warren reopened his briefcase, and Quinton lifted the phone from his desk. They all realized their phones weren't ringing, and looked at Ashley.

“Oh. It's me.” Sheepish at being the center of attention, she slid her purse strap off her arm and dug out her phone. She answered it on the third ring. “Hello.”

“So you haven't changed numbers yet. Good.”

Not again.
Her mouth went dry, and she had trouble swallowing. If she hung up, Elton would just call back. Determined to keep her private business just that, she covered the receiver and said to Quinton, “I'll just take this out in the hall.”

She tried to sidle away, but he took one look at her and caught her shoulders.

“Who is it?”

She could hear Elton's muffled voice demanding her attention. She felt Adrianna and Warren watching her, waiting. And Quinton, so sharp-eyed and observant, made it clear by his expression alone that he did not intend to let her out of his sight.

Praying he wouldn't cause a scene in front of the others, Ashley shook her head at Quinton, at the same time saying into the phone, “What do you want now?”

“You,” Elton purred. “And I'll have you. Eventually.”

Adrianna and Warren must have felt the tension because they both kept their gazes glued to her.

“Put it on speakerphone,” Quinton whispered, but she didn't want to do that. Warren distrusted her enough without her advertising this mess.

Determined to keep Elton talking in the hope that he might give himself away, she turned her back on the room and lowered her voice. “You think you're that good, huh? Then how come you're running around penniless, driving an old Buick and looking like death?”

She heard his gasp and knew that it had been him outside the Squirrel the morning she'd had breakfast with Quinton.

“You want to know why, you little bitch?”

His rage and madness vibrated through the phone, sending an icy chill into Ashley's soul. But she wouldn't let Elton know that he terrified her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “I asked, didn't I?”

“It's because of
you.”

He sounded so vile, she forgot everyone else. “Nah. It's because you're a lunatic.”

“You fucking—”

“Your little fascination with explosives backfired on you, didn't it, Elton? Instead of killing Jude, you killed an innocent man and a young woman who you claimed to care for. I'd say that makes you one sick puppy.”

Voice cold and flat, he stated, “You will die.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Ashley squeezed the phone tighter and refused to look at Quinton. She moved a few feet away from him, needing space to breathe.

“You know what they do with nutcases like you, Elton?” The words trembled, but she continued. “They wrap them in straitjackets and lock them away in a padded cell. Forever. You'll never live the high life again. No more fancy cars or nightclubs. No more admiration from society. No more young starlets.”

“Shut up.”

“Everyone will see you for the insane murderer that you are. But hey, at least you'll be off the streets and eating regularly. For a fat cat like you, living lean has to be rough.”

For two heartbeats, Elton sucked air, breathing deep and hard and fast. Then he laughed.
Laughed.

“Your rich boyfriend won't be able to help you, bitch. I'm going to enjoy every second of your punishment.”

The phone went dead—and Ashley's knees almost gave out.

Quinton was there, quickly leading her to a chair. The second her butt hit the seat, he took the phone from her and checked the call. Ashley already knew it'd be anonymous. Elton was insane and vicious—but not stupid.

Furious, Quinton threw it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. Ashley cringed. Adrianna pressed a hand to her heart.

“Jesus.” Warren's voice shook. “What in blazes is going on here? What is she talking about, murder and insane asylums? What—”

Shaking off her stupor, Adrianna said, “Hush, Warren. There'll be time for explanations later.”

To Ashley's amazement, Warren obeyed Adrianna and clamped his mouth shut.

All business and efficiency, Adrianna asked Quinton, “What can I do?”

“Get her a drink, please.”

“That's all right. I don't need—” Ashley gave up when Adrianna strode from the office. But she didn't want Quinton's assistant waiting on her. She'd never before been pampered, and she didn't want to start now. “Quinton,” she practically hissed, “I can take care of myself.”

As if he hadn't heard her, he crouched in front of her and carefully took both her hands in his. His thumbs rubbed over her knuckles, and his expression was one of deep concern. “Are you all right?”

Other than feeling like a cowardly fool, she was fine. “Of course.” She tried to laugh, but it came out sounding eerie and weak, and she made a face at herself. “Sorry. I just…Elton gives me the creeps, that's all.”

“What did he say?”

“Same old same old. I ruined his plans, so I have to be punished.” She flattened her mouth, knowing she had to share the rest. “And he said…a rich boyfriend won't do me any good.”

Quinton's face darkened and suddenly red-hot anger buried concern. “I thought you were going to get rid of that goddamned phone!”

She blinked at his outburst. “I was. I am.”

“When?”

At his tone, her spine straightened. She had planned to replace the phone after she got her next paycheck, but she said only, “On my next day off.”

His hands tightened on hers. “I don't fucking believe this.”

“Quinton!” Scandalized, Warren stood over them like a disapproving papa. “What's gotten into you?”

Adrianna came rushing back into the room. Ashley noticed that even in her high heels, she jogged gracefully.

She presented an icy can of Coke, and Quinton pressed it into Ashley's hands, then pushed back to his feet. He took two long strides to his desk.

Shrugging, trying her best to look cavalier instead of really, really pissed, Ashley popped the tab on the cola and sipped.

Using his desk phone, Quinton punched in a number, then barked into the receiver, “He just called and threatened her again.”

Ashley realized he must have called the guards, but she doubted they could be of much help with a phone call.

“She got here only a few minutes ago. Did you see anything?” Quinton listened, asked a few more questions, and then dropped the phone back to the desk in disgust. “Nothing.” This time he kept his distance from Ashley, pacing the room like a big caged cat. “They say you weren't followed—”

“Except by them,” she pointed out, because otherwise how would they know that Elton hadn't been behind her?

“Did you see them?” Quinton demanded.

And she admitted, “No,” then cleared her throat. Time to take control of the situation. Time to speak for herself. “Adrianna, thank you so much for the Coke. I really appreciate it. Warren, I'm sorry about the confusion. Really. I didn't mean to cause theatrics in the office.”

Warren held his face so still, he looked like stone, and when he spoke, his voice reeked of loathing. “Did you mean to drag my nephew into your problems?”

“Of course not. I just—”

As cold as Elton, he said, “And yet you did.”

She couldn't really deny that. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Knock it off, Uncle Warren.” Quinton gave her a long look while addressing the others. “Ashley and I need to talk. Alone.”

Warren dropped his briefcase and puffed up his chest. “You're my nephew and I'm not leaving here until I know what she's gotten you into.”

Still with uncharacteristic temper, Quinton turned on him. “I said to leave.”

Ashley jumped out of her seat. She put herself between the two men but faced Quinton. “You could be in danger, too, Quinton. Warren's your family and he has a right to his concern.”

For a long, heart-stopping minute, Quinton just worked his jaw. He was always so controlled that seeing him now left her off-kilter.

Finally, he let out a long breath and nodded. “Ashley should call the police first. Because this is an ongoing situation, there's a detective keeping track of everything.” Quinton indicated a chair for his uncle. “Make yourself comfortable. It's a little complicated.”

She'd need to call Denny, too, or that old coot would never forgive her. But she'd wait until after Warren and Adrianna's departure.

The detective handling the case wasn't in, so another officer took a report for him, and he promised to have men scour the area for the old white Buick. Naturally he didn't hold out much hope of actually apprehending Elton, and Ashley knew Elton would now ditch the car. If they didn't find him tonight, tomorrow he'd be in a different vehicle.