Murphy's Law (21 page)

He barely heard them anymore.

Not long ago he'd lived in a mansion furnished by one of the most respected interior designers known. He'd had a cook and a housekeeper and money to burn. He'd gotten weekly haircuts, manicures, and he'd eaten the finest food.

But not anymore.

Now he was fifty pounds lighter, which actually worked to his advantage, changing his appearance drastically. To help in that regard he'd dyed his blond hair a dark brown. It was longer, unkempt. He wore a beard that itched, glasses that did nothing for his eyesight, and he shared space with rats and insects.

At least he'd been able to procure clean blankets for sleeping, a bucket for personal use, a jug of water, and a cooler to store supplies. It wasn't the environment he'd become accustomed to, but he was warm and dry.

And within minutes of where Ashley Miles lived.

When the time proved right, she'd be within easy reach.

Overgrown weeds and roots tried to trip him as he stepped into what had once served as a yard. The thorny branch of a wild shrub left a bloody scratch on his neck and caught in his tangled mane. He cursed low, but he didn't dare use any lights that might draw attention to his presence. He didn't want anyone poking around the trailer and possibly finding his stash. Already he'd acquired all the ingredients necessary for a variety of different explosive devices. They were so easy to get that no one even blinked an eye as he stocked up on the things he'd need.

Most chemicals were found in the grocery store, and others could be made from mixing cleaning supplies. Construction sites afforded plenty of pipe pieces and scraps of metal. He collected everything from rusted nails and burned-out lightbulbs to glass shards and rat poison.

The empty CO
₂
canisters had been the most difficult to obtain, but then he'd found the used cartridges from air guns that kids had tossed out behind a sports center.

Yes, he had bombs, and he intended to use them to hurt Ashley Miles.

But in the end, she wouldn't enjoy the quick, painless death of an explosion. This time he intended to take his time, to make it last.

To make her pay.

But first, he not only had to ditch the car, but he needed a new plan. Her loaded boyfriend had her well protected. Guards watched her 24/7, never leaving her alone, making it impossible for him to trail her. For now, she was safe.

But the boyfriend was not.

All he needed was one small chink in the defenses and he'd have them both. With different transportation, uncovering Murphy's schedule would be easy. He already knew where he lived and where he worked. The rest would come.

Elton considered going to Tim for a car. God knew it had been easy enough to manipulate that spineless worm once already. But Denny had taken Tim under his wing, and Denny was one scary individual. He detested Elton, and if given a chance, Elton knew Denny would cut his heart out without remorse and worry about the consequences later.

Best to steer clear of Tim.

And who needed Tim anyway, now that he had Ashley?

Parked within the thick brush surrounding the old trailer, he located the Buick and unlocked the door. Mind churning with plans, he drove cautiously along the empty back roads of Stillbrooke until he found just the right spot.

In the deep churning water of a muddy creek that ran under the railroad tracks, he dumped the car. Standing on the shore, Elton watched as the rusty Buick slowly sank farther and farther under the water, until not a single part of it showed. By the time anyone found it, Ashley would be dead, and he'd be long gone.

Whistling wind cut through his clothes on his walk back, and with each step he took, his hatred and determination expanded. He was still a good distance from the trailer when luck shone on him.

There, on the side of the road beside her car, stood a woman alone. Beneath the opalescent light of the moon, she looked to be in her late thirties, cheap in the way of a barfly, with big hair, exaggerated eye makeup, and clothes that squeezed her too-full figure. Even with the chill in the air, she wore a low-cut shirt that showed more than it covered. She kept trying to use her cell phone and muttered a rank curse when it wouldn't work.

Clouds blew in to cover the moonlight, filling the area with black shadows.

Elton pulled off the glasses and slid them into a pocket. Affecting an air of charm, wearing a friendly smile, he approached her. “Car break down?”

She jumped at his sudden appearance, so skittish that he thought she might turn and run away in her high wedge shoes. She squinted her eyes, trying to see him. “Who's there?”

He maintained a respectable distance. “I live up the road a ways. My dog got loose. He's a big German shepherd. Old and friendly. You seen him?”

“Oh.” He heard the relief in her tone. “No, I sure haven't. My tire went flat and I've been trying to reach someone to lend a hand.”

“Can't get any reception, can you?”

“I suppose the woods are too thick.” She took a step toward him. “I've never changed a tire in my life. I'm sure I'd end up breaking a nail.”

Excess drink slurred her words and kept her stance unsteady. Perfect.

He eased closer. “Now, we can't have that. I'll take care of it for you. Or if you'd rather, you can come up to the house and use my phone to call a boyfriend.”

“I don't really have a boyfriend.” She turned her head to look down the dark, vast expanse of empty road. “I was going to try to reach a friend, but she's probably out partying still herself.”

“Leaving you helpless.” He tsk-tsked.

“You really wouldn't mind lending me a hand?”

“Not at all. It's the least I can do for a damsel in distress.” Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he strode to the back of the car. “Pop the trunk.”

Giddy with relief, she gave a gushing, “Thank you,” and opened the driver's side door. Light spread out over the road. He could see her smile, the flash of her bright hair.

Her gratitude was pathetic, making Elton almost chuckle. She got behind the wheel, pulled a lever, and the trunk unlatched. Elton dug around inside until he found what he wanted: a tire iron.

Yeah, it was his lucky night.

The stupid whore never saw what hit her.

 

When her doorbell rang early that morning, Ashley had to remind herself not to run. Quinton already knew how eager she always was to see him. No reason to throw herself at his feet.

But this would be the first time for him to be in her apartment, and she was anxious. It was a new step, when it felt to her like they constantly took new steps. She wouldn't admit to falling in love with him. Not yet. But with each day that passed, the idea of love had grown on her.

Today Quinton had offered to go over test questions with her, to help her study for an exam, but she had more than schoolwork on her mind. Though they'd made a pact to spend more time together, Murphy's Law had constantly worked against her, and it had taken another ten days to make it happen. In the meantime, she'd seen him at work, talked with him on the phone, and even managed another breakfast out. But other than a few stolen kisses, they'd had no intimacy.

She needed him. Somehow she'd become addicted to his touch, his scent, and she craved him all the time.

Crazy—but also exhilarating.

Quinton had said nothing about love or commitment or happily ever after, but she knew he cared. She felt it. It scared her a little, but she couldn't pull back now.

Smiling broadly, she swung the door open—and instantly deflated. “Denny. Tim. What are you two doing here?”

Jovial, Tim stepped inside without an invitation. “We've been doing morning workouts. Lifting, sparring, and then jogging. Denny said we could take a break and so we decided to see how you're holding up.” He looked around with blatant nosiness. “This is…nice.”

His “nice” sounded very lackluster, but then, Ashley knew her rehabbed furnishings and ancient carpet wouldn't appeal to most. She turned to Denny with accusation in her eyes. The last thing she needed was Tim dropping in on her.

Denny deflected any comment she might have by grabbing her into a bear hug. “Good to see ya, kiddo.”

Good grief. Had her one hug at the reception turned Denny into an affectionmonger? Had she driven them past the polite stage to the overly familiar?

She opened her mouth to say something sassy, and Tim whirled her around into his long arms for another bruising embrace. “It's been forever, Ash. But you look good. Healthy, I mean, not…well, I don't mean sexy or anything. Just good, like you're happy and stuff.” Tim snapped his mouth shut, looked guilty for a moment, then grinned at her.

To her surprise, Denny didn't castigate Tim for his blather. He just puffed up like a proud papa and asked, “Got any coffee? I could use a jolt.”

“Me, too.” As if he'd been in her place numerous times, Tim went to her sofa and plopped down, stretching out his long legs and dropping his head back. “Denny can run for hours. He wears me out.”

“Don't be such a girl. You need more wind if you're ever going to compete.”

Ashley finally noticed that Tim and Denny both wore running gear and were on the sweaty side.

“Coffee.” Ashley gave a tight smile while wondering if she could just pour the drinks down them and shove them back out the door. “Coming right up.”

She'd already made a pot for Quinton, so within minutes she returned with two mugs on a tray with creamer and sugar. It was a novel thing to have company and at any other time, she might have enjoyed it.

Tim sat forward to load his mug with cream, but Denny took his black, sipping as he paced the crowded space in Ashley's apartment. “Do you realize that Jude and May will be home in a week? And Elton's still on the loose. Where the hell is he hiding?”

“Who knows?” Trying to be discreet, Ashley glanced at the clock on her wall. “Maybe he's not around here at all. Maybe he called from somewhere else, and he just wants to scare me.”

Quinton should arrive any second now. She had only an hour before she had to get to class. She'd cut back on her sleep to see him, and now she had company, when no one
ever
visited her. What were the odds?

Where Murphy's Law was concerned, she didn't stand a chance.

“Have you heard from him again?” Denny demanded, drawing her out of her ruminations.

“No.” She paced over to look out the window by her desk.

“Are you sure? You're acting jumpy.”

She wasn't jumpy, she was impatient. For Quinton. “I told you the last time he called.”

“Not right away,” Denny reminded her. “You should have called me the second it happened.”

Ashley turned to stare at him. It amazed her how devoted Denny was to her welfare, for no reason that she could fathom. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to it.

“We've been through this, Denny. Quinton was there, and we called the cops, and I told you first thing the next morning—”

He closed the space between them. “If it ever happens again, call me immediately.”

He looked so insistent, she shrugged. “Yeah, sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”

Her flippant words gave him pause, and he set down the coffee to confront her. “You know, I wish I was your dad.”

Tim watched them with wide eyes, his gaze bouncing from one to the other and back again.

“I was being a smart-ass, Denny. Having you for a friend is good enough for me.”

He raked back his thinning hair, frowned, looked ready to confide the secrets of the world—and Quinton knocked.

Ashley's heart did a somersault in excitement, but Denny shot around to face the door.

“You expecting company?” he whispered with intimidating disquiet.

“Yeah, I am. So cool your jets, okay?” She started for the door, and Denny held her back.

“Let me answer it.”

“Oh, for the love of…Knock it off, will ya?” She pulled away from him, saying over her shoulder, “If I'm not allowed to answer my own door, I wouldn't have been able to let you in, right?”

Unfortunately, her apartment was old and therefore well insulated. Quinton hadn't heard a single thing, and the second she got the door open he was on her, kissing her while backing her into the apartment.

With his mouth devouring hers, she couldn't protest or alert him to spectators. She did manage a mumbled, “Mmmhmmm…”

Quinton kicked the door shut, slid his hands down to her butt—and finally heard Denny's loud snort.

He went still.

His mouth still on hers, Quinton opened his eyes, looked behind her, and groaned. “Denny. Tim. I didn't realize Ashley had other company.”

Still smashed close to Quinton's body, Ashley couldn't see anyone else. But she heard the amusement in Tim's voice when he replied, “That's obvious enough.”