Murphy's Law (29 page)

At her sarcastic best, Ashley laughed. “It's Murphy's Law, ya know? I had more to say to Quinton besides quitting this job, and like an idiot, I chose the same time that your stupid bracelet goes missing. Of course, I had no way of knowing I'd be blamed for something like that—”

“It's not a stupid bracelet,” Warren charged. “It's worth over fifteen thousand dollars.”

Ashley whistled. “Fifteen grand? And you lost it? Damn, Warren, you should be more careful.”

His teeth locked. “You took it.”

“That's it.” Ashley propped her good arm on her hip. “I'm damn tired of hearing you say that. If you believe it, call the cops. Right now.” She strode to the desk, picked up the phone, and tossed it toward Warren. It almost struck him, but at the last second he caught it, juggling it a second or two before getting a firm hold on it.

“Maybe I will,” Warren threatened.

Ashley's smile looked more like a snarl. “I insist that you do.”

Quinton knew he had to take control of the situation before it entirely exploded. He could feel Ashley's emotional retreat, could feel her slipping away from him, and he refused to let that happen.

With iron will and forced calm, he said, “No one is calling the cops.”

“If he doesn't, I will.” Ashley tightened her mouth. “I don't have anything to hide. And I'll be damned before I stand here accused.”

Adrianna appeared in the doorway. “Accused of what? What's going on here?”

Warren clammed up, but Ashley had plenty to say. She gestured toward Warren. “This idiot thinks I lifted his stupid bracelet. He even has Quinton convinced.”

“He does not,” Quinton denied.

She rounded on him, vibrating with fury. “Don't you lie to me, Murphy. You think I took it.” Her voice broke and she went red in the face. “After everything, you still believe I'd do something like that.”

“You were ready to confess!” Warren reminded her.

Once again, Quinton tried to take control. “Adrianna, get Warren out of here before I strangle him. And Ashley, for God's sake, stop jumping to conclusions about my thoughts.”

Ashley opened her mouth—and Adrianna said, “I took it.”

Everyone turned to her in shock.

“That's right. Me. I took the bracelet.” Her stride long and graceful in her spiked heels, she glided through to the inner office.

Mouth hanging open, Warren followed her as far as the door.

Adrianna went to her desk, opened a drawer, and lifted out a beautiful gift box. It came winging through the doorway and smacked Warren in the belly. He said, “
Oof
” and let it fall to the floor.

Warren had his share of projectiles aimed at him today, but he didn't seem to notice. He stepped over the box without retrieving it. “Adrianna, I can explain.”

“No need, Warren. We're through.”

“But…!”

“But what? You
love
me? I've heard it too many times, over too many years. You love your good name and social standing too much to ever divorce Ivana, and you know what, Warren? You shouldn't. You two deserve each other.”

Frozen in disbelief, Quinton watched the drama unfold. How could he have been so obtuse? Yet…Many things now made sense: looks between his uncle and Adrianna, how Warren often volunteered to stay after work when he and Adrianna worked on a project, the way Adrianna could handle Warren when no one else could.

He frowned over his own stupidity—until he realized Ashley had turned and walked away.

“Goddamn it!” On his way out, Quinton paused, grabbed Warren by the shoulder, and yanked him around to face him. “You've got some explaining to do.”

Shamefaced, Warren said nothing.

Quinton pointed at Adrianna. “Don't you dare think about quitting on me just because of this. I need you. The boys need you.”

She shooed him away. “We'll talk later, Quinton. Right now you have more important things to do. She's getting away.”

With another curse Quinton bounded out of the room. He barely reached the elevators before the doors started sliding shut, with Ashley inside.

He leaped—and made it in.

Ashley reached for the “door open” button, but Quinton caught her arm. “Oh, no, sweetheart. We need to talk. And the elevator surely provides more privacy than my office did.”

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Bullshit.” She glared at him, and he glared right back. “You had some grand confession, remember? You were full of apologies for something. I want to know what's going on.”

“It doesn't matter now.”

“The hell it doesn't. Ignore my uncle and his vagaries. Tell me what has you upset.”

She shoved him back a good foot. “Damn you, you should know me better than to think I'd steal!”

“You won't let me know you.” He crowded her into the corner of the elevator, uncaring where the car took them or what might be transpiring in his office. “I'm constantly working my ass off to get closer to you, and you're constantly shutting me out.”

She turned away.

But Quinton caught her chin and brought her face back to his. She was bruised and tearful and now red-faced with anger. And she was so beautiful to him, she took his breath away.

“I would never deliberately hurt you, Ashley. You have to know that.”

She worked her jaw, and tears clung to her lashes.

A sucker punch to the gut couldn't hurt as much as seeing Ashley cry. “Oh, no, baby, please don't cry. I'm sorry.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She sniffled, wiped her eyes with her good hand, and said, “Let me out, Quinton.”

“Why?”

“I'm going home.
My
home. I don't…” She avoided his gaze. “I don't feel well.”

Damn it. He searched her face and saw the truth of her words in her big dark eyes. Flu? Sheer exhaustion? Whatever ailed her, she did need to rest, so he moved aside to let her pass but then followed her from the elevator. “What is your big confession?”

She turned to face him.

He waited, and waited some more, until once again his patience wore thin. “Goddammit, whatever it is, just say it! I swear I won't—”

“I'm pregnant.”

The bottom dropped out of his world. He inhaled and then choked. Wheezing, he tried to grasp her words.
“What?”

Her pitiful, defiant expression changed to one of antagonism. “You heard me, Murphy. I'm preggers. Knocked up.” She thrust her chin toward him in challenge. “There's a bun in the oven.”

“But…” Too much had transpired in the past hour, and he couldn't catch up. “I was careful.”

“Apparently not careful enough.”

He looked beyond her, saying as much to himself as to her, “I never touched you without a condom. Never.”

She flagged her hand in dismissal. “So maybe one of them was faulty or something. What do I know about rubbers?”

Pregnant? It wasn't possible. He thought of her damned plans, how he'd already interrupted them, and how this would throw her completely off course. Shit, shit. “Are you positive?” And then with hope, “Have you seen a doctor?”

“I'm positive, twice over.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She shrugged. “They checked me at the hospital, before the X-rays, and then I went to a doctor today, too.”

Quinton's vision crowded in. She'd known for days now, but had kept the news from him? He tasted bitter betrayal. He stung from her deceit. “That's why you were sick?”

“Yes.”

“And I suppose that explains why you're quitting this job?”

“Yes.”

“It's why you've been so quiet and solemn.” Pieces came together, and with it, anger. “You found out at the hospital, but you didn't think I needed to know? I am the father, yes?”

“You bastard.”

He slashed a hand through the air. “I'm to be a father, but you figured I didn't need to know?”

She raised her voice to match his until they were shouting at each other. “I didn't know how to tell you!”

“Right.” Quinton took in her arrogant stance, that balls-to-the-walls attitude. “You being such a quiet, timid woman and all.”

He regretted the words immediately, but especially with the way she smiled at him—the same way she'd smiled at Warren. “Don't sweat it, Quinton. The baby doesn't have to concern you. I can handle it on my own.”

That brought his anger right back to the boiling point. She intended to cut him out? Like hell. “You can barely take care of yourself. How the hell do you think to care for an infant alone?”

Never in her adult life had Ashley felt so degraded, so ashamed, or so hurt. Her parents' lack of love had left her hollow, but it hadn't made her feel like this.

And it wasn't because of Warren's idiotic accusations. She'd expected no better from him, so how could he insult her?

No, Warren could say whatever he liked. He mattered not a bit to her. But Quinton's skepticism, his meanness, made her feel contemptible—because it hurt her feelings. Because she loved him.

Because she had hoped he might love her, too.

Ashley began backing up. If she didn't get away from him, she'd be bawling her eyes out like a fool, and she'd rather eat dirt than let him see that.

As detached as possible, she gave him details. “The baby is due in July. It's really early to know, but a fact all the same. Just think, if it wasn't for Elton and my stupid broken arm, I might not have known for another month or more.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.” She continued to retreat. “Pregnancy does funny things to women. It makes them tired. It makes them maudlin. It makes me want to kick your sorry ass. But with only one arm, I doubt I'm up to it.”

“You want to slap me? Fine. Do it and get over it so we can talk.”

He looked like he'd really let her. “We don't have anything else to talk about. I told you, so now you know.” She shrugged. “I'm going home for a nap.”

With each step she retreated, he advanced. “My home?”

She laughed. “No, my home. And don't worry, I've already forgotten all about your offer for me to move in. You're off the hook with that one.”

Quinton rolled his eyes. “It's not over between us, so quit acting like it is.”

“Feels over to me.”

“That's because you're upset. And maybe you're feeling a little guilty for not leveling with me right off, as you should have. But if you'll just stop to think—”

“I can think, Murphy, just as I can see, and the look on your face said it all. You believed your uncle.”

Taut with irritation, he growled, “No, I did not. Not until you started apologizing and saying you had something to confess. But even then, I assumed that if you had taken the bracelet, you had a good reason. I had no way of knowing you had something bigger than a stolen bracelet to share with me. You”—he pointed at her—“are the one at fault here. You're the one who lied to me by omission. So don't keep throwing my uncle's idiotic assumptions in my face.”

“And what about the baby?” she challenged. “You sure as hell don't look happy about it.”

“You blindsided me. Unlike you, I haven't had days to process it, to get used to the idea.” His green eyes glittered at her, bright with blame. “What I have processed is your emotional evasion the last few days, and it's put me through hell. With a fucking lunatic trying to blow us up, I'd rather know you're unexpectedly pregnant than to be left wondering what's really going on.”

She supposed she deserved that. “You're right.” She clenched her jaw but forced the words out. “I'm sorry. I should have told you right away.”

“You're damn right.” He stared down at her, then shook his head. “You're ready to fall off your feet. Go take that nap, and we'll talk when I get home.”

Quinton took her elbow and walked her to her car, but he didn't say how he felt about the baby, or even how he felt about her.

For sure, her timing sucked. To think of Warren accusing her…

And what about Warren and Adrianna? She hadn't seen that one coming. Adrianna was so warm and kind, and generous, and Warren was…well, almost unbearably obnoxious. Relationships, she now knew firsthand, were tricky to navigate. She didn't even want to know how difficult it must have been for Adrianna.

When Ashley unlocked her car and got behind the wheel, Quinton called the guards to make certain they knew of her early departure.

“Drive careful,” he told her. He hesitated, still frowning, then bent and put a perfunctory kiss to her forehead, closed her car door, and stepped back to watch until she drove out of sight.

Well, Ashley thought, that was awkward. And she knew she was mostly to blame.

But damn Warren. If he hadn't declared her a thief at just that precise moment, she would have told Quinton everything and maybe, just maybe, the outcome would have been different. Instead of talking out the circumstances of an unplanned pregnancy, they'd argued viciously, and a strained tension now existed between them.

She knew that, despite the rough path her confession had taken, Quinton expected her to go to his house for her rest. It would be too surly of her to do differently. Perhaps by the time he got home, they would be able to talk without the animosity.

Ten minutes later, when Ashley was almost to Quinton's place, her phone rang. She had to pull over to the side of the road to answer it. Driving with a cast on her lower arm was awkward, but driving and talking on the phone at the same time would be stupid and dangerous.

Assuming it'd be Quinton, hoping that he'd be following her home after all, she dug the phone out of her purse and said, “Hey.”

But it wasn't Quinton who said, “Hello, Ashley.”

She raised her brows in surprise. “Stuart?” Why in the world would May's father be calling her? Fear struck her heart, and she said in a rush, “Is May all right? Has something—”

“I assume May's fine. I haven't heard from her in a few days.”

“Then…” Ashley frowned. He sounded odd, not like his usual obnoxious self. “What did you want, Stuart?”

“Ashley, I'm sorry.”

She went cold in renewed dread. “Yeah? Sorry for what?”

She detected the sounds of a scuffle for the phone, and then Elton laughed.

No.

“Yes, Ashley. Stuart is so very, very sorry.”

Enough was enough. Ashley gripped the phone tightly. “You miserable swine. What have you done to Stuart?”

“Why not a thing.
Yet.
” He laughed again. “But I'm prepared to do any number of things if you don't follow my instructions. If you hang up—which I know you're anxious to do—I'll kill him. Without a moment's hesitation, without remorse, probably with a good deal of pleasure, I'll snuff the life right out of him.”

No, no,
no.

“And Ashley, won't your dear, dear
friend
despise you for letting her daddy be murdered?”

Ashley had to keep him talking while she figured out what to do. “Why Stuart? Why pick on him?”

“You switched phones and I couldn't reach you. But I assumed, rightly so, that you'd share your new number with those people important to you.”

“And you think Stuart fits the bill? You're more deranged than I realized.”

“Ah well, Ashley, I know you care for May. And I know she cherishes her family, despite their many faults. So you can see the connection. Besides,” he added with a shrug in his voice, “you walked away from your parents, so Stuart seemed a fitting…substitute.”

God, her head hurt. “Bastard.”

“You shouldn't call me names.” As he said it, she heard Stuart moan and knew that Elton was the cause.

Pleading with him, showing him any weakness, would do her no good. She instinctively knew her best chance was to remain strong. But Elton was right; May would be crushed if anything happened to her family. “Listen up, you worm.” Ashley put a deliberate dose of scorn in her tone. “Hurt him again, and I'll hang up on you and damn the consequences.”

“Would you really?”

“Good-bye, Elton.”

“Wait!”

Panicking, heart racing, Ashley gave silent thanks that her ploy had worked. “Enough. Tell me what you want and let's get this over with.”

Pleasure evident in his tone, Elton told her, “Go to your apartment, park your car, and then slip out the back of the building. Cross through those empty overgrown lots, and then meet me at the abandoned drive-in theater a block or so from you. I'll give you fifteen minutes, and then he's dead.”

“That's not enough time.”

As if she hadn't spoken, he continued, saying, “If I kill Stuart, that'll mean we'll have to start all over again. And maybe next time, I'll grab one of the children.”

“Children?” She held the phone awkwardly with her left hand and with her right, put the car back in gear. She didn't have any time to waste. She eased back into traffic, trying to calm the rioting of her heart, the nausea that burned the back of her throat.

“Don't play stupid, you bitch. It doesn't suit you. Your boyfriend has a whole group of motley unfortunates that he likes to coddle. Plucking one of them away will be easy enough, I promise you. If you don't care about poor Stuart, surely you care about them?”

Her foot slammed onto the gas, speeding the car along. Never would she let Elton hurt the boys. “I'll be there.”

“You, and only you. No cops. If they follow you in, and I know I'm caught anyway, I'll take Stuart with me, don't doubt it.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Don't be late.”

He hung up and Ashley dropped the phone so she could better steer. She glanced in the rearview mirror several times, but she didn't see any guards. They were good—but good enough to fool Elton? Good enough that they could be there, and she wouldn't see them at all?

She just didn't know. Why did everything have to happen at once?

She parked carefully so as not to give herself away. Cars passed her, but none that seemed conspicuously watchful of her. Still, Quinton said she'd be followed home to ensure her safety.

Surely, the guards would report to Quinton that she hadn't gone to his place, but to her apartment instead. But would he even care, or would he assume she was in a snit, and stewing?

It wasn't until she'd cut through her apartment building and was about to go out the back door that she wondered if Elton had booby-trapped her building.

Would the door explode when she opened it? Her pulse raced until she felt light-headed. Backing up, she retraced her steps and slid out the front door. Again looking for any signs of guards, she walked around to the back of the building, then jogged into the empty, overgrown lots that led to the main road. She got a stitch in her side, but she paid it little mind.

Through the heavy shrubs and overgrown trees, she could just see the road and the drive-in on the other side of it. Pushing branches and weeds out of her path, she started forward again—and Elton spoke from her left.

“Right on time.”

As Ashley whirled around to face him, her sleeve caught on a bramble, her foot on an exposed root. She stumbled but stayed upright.

Good God, Elton looked more miserable than she'd thought humanly possible. His blond hair had been dyed a dull brown, and it hung long, greasy, and unkempt. His unclean skin glowed with oily perspiration, while madness brightened his eyes.

Even from several feet away, Ashley could smell him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks to you and your fucking meddling.” Elton held a length of pipe in his right hand and something else, something strange, in his left. Stuart stood beside him, sweating, pale as a ghost.

“I thought you said to meet you at the drive-in.”

He licked his lips in expectation. “I changed my mind about that. In case you squealed, I decided we'd do better to stay right here.” He prodded Stuart forward with the piece of pipe.

“You aren't good enough at planning to get away with this, Elton. You know that.”

“You have no idea what I'm planning, so shut the fuck up and start walking. I want to put more distance between us and your apartment building.”

Ashley considered her options, looked at that piece of hard pipe in Elton's hand, and shook her head. “And if I refuse to go with you?”

Elton smiled at her and raised his left arm into the air. Ashley could see that he clutched two cylindrical devices, about six inches long, three-quarters of an inch in diameter with wires attached to a nine-volt battery. His thumb rested on the switch.

A bomb.

Ashley thought of her baby, of Quinton, and knew she would
not
die today. She finally had things she wanted, things she'd never known were important to her because they'd seemed so unattainable. They were within her grasp, and she wasn't about to let Elton rob her of them.

Yes, she wanted her career as a nurse. She wanted money in the bank and her cute little dream house. But she didn't need those things, not the way she needed Quinton and her baby.

Forcing a shrug, she smiled at Elton. “If you detonate that clumsy thing, won't you blow up, too?”

“Not if I throw it at you first.”

If he threw it, wouldn't he have to take his thumb off the switch first?