Murphy's Law (The Bounty Hunter Series - Book 1) (2 page)

She bristled at his astuteness. Even she realized nothing much got past Thaddeus Murphy. “What did you do with the money you stole?”

Silence pulsed all around him as he moved through the darkened cabin with a gun at his back.

“Not so fast,” she said.

He blew out a hot breath, but followed instructions as she directed him to turn on the lamp, setting it on low. The dim arch of light barely reached the tips of her boots, but he stared at her hard. “Mood lighting?” He tried to remain calm. Well, as calm as any man could with a .357 magnum trained on him.

“Smartass,” she muttered.

“Hey, everyone likes a little ass,” he countered, assessing the distance between them.

If he leapt at her now, he’d never reach her in time to shove the gun away. No, she may not remember ninety-nine percent of the details during the patch of time, but she damned well recalled how to shoot. He saw to that himself.

With a great deal of coaxing from her sister, Echo had relented, allowing him to teach her. Retraining her, impressed with her reflexes and her inherent instinct and skill sets, he’d noted how easy she’d picked it up again. She’d land him in one fell swoop.

“In the bedroom,” she said, nodding her head toward the back of the rustic cabin.

“What, no foreplay?” he baited.

There, she tried to stop the grin, but he saw it, short and sweet. Just like her.

Inwardly, his gut clenched. Outwardly, he backed up, leading her to the master bedroom. “I take it you brought protection.”

Her mouth twitched again.

“Or do you just want to get down and dirty?” He backed into the darkened bedroom now.

“On the bed.”

“I have my answer.” He forced a smile.

“I don’t have mine.” That steely quality in her voice warned him. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“You wouldn’t have to ask the question if you remembered who I am.”

“Since my memory isn’t going to magically return in the next few minutes, why don’t you humor me and answer.”

Pent-up fury flashed in him. He gritted his teeth. Why didn’t she trust him? Why did the son-of-a-bitch who killed his brother and sister-in-law have to rob him of Echo, too?

***

“I didn’t steal a damn thing,” he bit out.

The heat of his anger whooshed over her. She jerked back. “Why do they say you did then?” She didn’t want to believe them, couldn’t imagine Murphy could do such a thing. But they’d been convincing.

“Who, damn it?” He grew still. “Christ, when did they contact you? How? Where’s Storm and Timmy?” His questions drilled her like a spray of bullets.

“They have them,” she choked out.

Murphy sunk to the edge of the bed. In the dim light from the moon slipping between the parted curtains, she watched as he dropped his head into his hands. Pain rolled off of him. She wavered, pointing the gun down and taking a step closer.

Lightning quick, he clamped down on her wrists, jerking her aim to her right. Her finger slipped. The trigger went off. A shot blasted in the silence. Ringing pulsated in her ears. The bullet hit metal, pinging.

He grabbed her around her waist, bringing her down on the bed. He rolled her beneath him. His quick actions prompted her own.

She fired again. The shot hit the wood beam, ricocheting off it.

“Fuck!” he shouted. “Drop the gun!” He squeezed her wrist harder.

A dagger of pain sliced through her. “Go ahead, break it,” she yelled back.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said. He slammed her hand into the mattress.

Her grip loosened. Metal slipped. He knocked it out of her hand. The gun clattered to the floor.

Suddenly, she became aware of him half on top of her. The length of him pressed into her thigh. Her heavy breathing matched his. An ache of need rushed through her. How could she even think about wanting him now?

Echo bucked under him. He barely moved. “I can poke your eyes out with my fingers, maim you with a knee, or kill you with the heel of my hand. Which one would you prefer?”

His chuckle surprised her. But not more than his easy acquiescence as he shifted and eased off her. When he stood, he offered her his hand.

Before she could decide whether to take it or not, the distinct sound of the cabin door opening rang in the air.

***

“Do this my way,” she directed as she pushed him aside and crept down the hall.

“Echo, wait,” he whispered harshly, trying to grab for her arm.

She dodged him.

“Get out here now! I got your sister and the kid.” The kidnapper’s gravelly voice jarred a flash of sensory memory in Echo’s mind.

She tried holding it, but it vanished. In its place, a blast of pain and the wave of nausea returned. God, why did it have to attack her now? She needed all her senses. Not the blunted edges of her brain again.

“I got one extra. I don’t need both of them. You wanna play?” His menacing laugh made her skin crawl.

“Bastard,” Storm bit out.

Timmy’s soft cries slammed into Echo’s heart. She nearly doubled over.

Murphy grabbed her hand.

She leaned into him for a moment, gaining strength.

“You want me?” Murphy asked, pushing Echo behind him as he walked around the corner and into the living room. They’d snapped on the light switch; now the room was bathed in light.

Nudging him aside, she faced the huge, burly man that held Storm. His beefy hand wrapped around Storm’s hair, yanking her closer. “Don’t get any ideas, girlie,” he snarled.

Timmy clung to Storm, burying his head in her neck. “Momma. No hurt.”

She soothed him. “It’s all right, baby boy.”

Echo ached. Meeting her sister’s gaze, she read the mixture of emotions. Royally pissed, would not come close to the brewing anger lying there. Helpless clouded her blue stare. If it weren’t for Timmy, she knew Storm would have fought until the bloody end.

Murphy squeezed her hand, half warning, half comforting. “So, you sorry piece of sh—” He stopped himself from swearing. “You going to hide behind a woman and kid? Or you man enough to face me one on one?”

“Murph, that’s all you got? Man, you’re losing it, buddy?”

Echo tensed. Murphy knew him?

“How many times did I put your butt in the slammer, huh? Four? Five?”

She blew out a breath.

“Ain’t gonna be no more,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Hah, I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it.”

“Classy, real classy.” Murphy nodded to Storm and Timmy. “Let them go. You got me now. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah, I wanna see your face when I told you I knocked off your brother.”

Murphy jerked back as if hit. “You?”

He laughed. “That’s right. You effed up and put the wrong guy behind bars.”

How? Murphy gulped hard. “His wife, too?”

“Had to. After we got the money and jewels from the home safe, he wouldn’t go along with robbing his bank.” His sinister laughter grated along every one of Murphy’s nerve endings, like fingernails on a chalkboard. “I blew off her hand, then he agreed. Man, he was stupid enough to think we’d let them both go after that. Before he left the driveway, I couldn’t stand hearing her yelling at me. Bang! Gone.”

His gut twisted. His big brother managed a bank. Up until that incident, Murphy had hunted down wanted criminals for a living. Now, who would have thought his brother’s high-end lifestyle would have got him killed before Murphy’s lowlife bounty hunting had?

Now, Murphy shifted so he half-blocked Echo’s body. Her hands came up and settled on the back of his waist. In her own way, she’d just comforted him. His heart tripped over.

“So what do you want me for, Slick? Break your buddy outta jail?”

“Fuck no—”

“Hey, watch your language! There’s a kid here.” Timmy’s cries slammed into him. “It’s okay, champ. I’m right here.”

“He bad,” Timmy said. “Boo-boo. Hand.”

The slow burn of anger jumped into full-on fury. “You hurt him?”

Echo held him back. “Not yet,” she whispered. “Follow my lead.”

“Whatcha gonna do about it? I got a lot worse planned for them.”

“Let them go,” Echo said with such force that the guy whipped his head around.

“What the hell?” He looked at Storm, who he still held by the hair, and then at Echo. “Twins? They didn’t tell me that.”

Doubt lay in his voice.

“That’s right. You’ve got the wrong sister,” Echo said with smugness.

Murphy reached around her and tried to push her behind him. That one gesture must have given everything away.

“Shit!” He cursed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he snarled at Storm, jerking her head back.

She hissed. Timmy cried, reaching out and trying to shove at the man’s beefy arm. “No hurt, no hurt.”

“It’s all right, buddy,” Echo soothed.

“Mommie, stop bad man.”

“Mommie? What the— even the kid can’t tell the difference?”

“You’ve got the wrong sister,” she taunted.

“Bullshit!”

“Bad,” Timmy said.

“Does she have a scar on her scalp? Nope. But I do.”

“What kinda game you playing here?” he growled.

“You want Murphy, then you let them go.” Echo nodded to her sister and Timmy. “I go in her place.”

Murphy’s gut twisted. “What are you doing?” he demanded under his breath. But he knew; she was saving them.

“You wanted Murphy. I brought him to you. You want to know where the money is? He only knows half of it. I know the other half.”

“You’re bluffing,” Slick said, but he did mash his hand onto Storm’s head and searched for a scar. “Shit,” he hissed.

“Not there, right?” Echo baited. “I got a four-inch line down the back of my head, apparently from when you or your buddy coldcocked me upside the head after I drove into a concrete wall to kill you two.”

“You remember?” Murphy asked softly.

“No,” she answered under her breath so only he could hear. “Storm only went so far in the story.”

“You! You tried to kill us!” His face turned red. “There was blood and broken bones everywhere. I barely got away before the cops came. I left the money in the trunk. Then the news came out and there was no money to be found. Blames it on us!” He waved the gun between Murphy and Echo. “Which one of you stole it? Or did both of you do it?”

“Let them go and you’ll find out,” Echo lied.

***

Ice pick-like stabs blasted in her head. Echo gulped hard as the minutes ticked by. His silence pulsed in the air. Would the buffoon go for it?

Murphy’s strong, steady presence beside her made her braver than she felt. But she’d do anything to protect Storm and Timmy. They were all she had in the world.

“Don’t move,” he warned. Aiming the barrel at Storm’s neck, he released his hand from her hair and reached behind him. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and then tossed them to Echo. The metal hit the rug with a dull ting. “Pick ’em up. Slowly now.”

She did as he said, easing forward and grabbing the hunk of metal.

“Put ’em on him,” he directed, and then grabbed Storm’s hair again.

The weight of the cuffs was nothing compared to the weight of what she needed to do. Instincts kicked in. She clapped the cuff on Murphy’s right wrist, tightening it slightly, but when it was time to cuff his left wrist, she stopped. Instead, she clamped the other one around her left wrist, binding them together. “He goes. I go. That’s the deal.”

“God damn it—”

“Watch your language,” she scolded. “Take it or leave it. You need us both.” She nodded to his other captives. “You don’t need them. They’ll just hold you back.”

Her sister hissed. Echo faced her, lifting her chin a little higher. Silently, she conveyed her feelings.
Protect the baby, at all costs. You’re the best one to do it.
Somehow, Storm got the message.

“He needs food and to be changed,” Storm said softly.

“Again? You just did that.” He blew out a breath. “All right,” he waved the gun around. “Over there.” He shoved Storm toward the couch. Clutching Timmy to her, she turned and landed on her side. Easing to a sitting position, she snarled at him.

Echo knew what that meant. He was going to pay, big time, for everything he was doing to them. God, she wished she could witness the look on his face when that happened.

“In the closet. Now!” he ordered.

She looked to Storm. Slowly, she rose from the couch and, still holding a weepy Timmy to her, she went to the foyer closet. Cradling the baby’s head, she kicked out some shoes and boots and made a space from them, and then eased inside to sit on the floor. She glared at the buffoon.

“Shut it,” he barked at Echo.

With each step toward the closet, dread settled in her. Murphy, beside her, laced a finger with hers, giving her comfort. At the closet opening, she caught her sister’s stare. Power. Strength. Even now, Storm tried to ease her anxieties. Echo’s gaze went to the baby, his red, teary face nestled in Storm’s neck. Her heart turned over. Blinking back her own sting of tears, Echo nodded to her sister in understanding. No matter what, they would fight.

“Don’t take all day. Shut it. Now see that latch near the top of the door? You shove it into place.”

Her blood ran cold. She’d be the cause of them trapped in there.

“Do it or you watch as I kill them.”

With a great deal of reluctance, Echo eased the door closed. She’d never forget the arch of light getting smaller and the last glimpse of her family.

Slowly, she reached up and slid the lock across and into place. Maybe, just maybe, the lock wouldn’t hold when Storm kicked the door out.

She followed his instructions on exiting the cabin. With frozen movements and her mind numb, she clung to Murphy’s hand and hoped they could get out of this mess.

But her hopes were dashed when they came upon Murphy’s truck with all four tires slashed. An old, battered van stood a distance away. They trudged to it.

“Smoke?” Murphy asked softly.

“You’re smarter than I thought, bozo,” the buffoon said. “Now, get in the back of the van.” He slide the door open.