Murphy's Law
Authors: Jennifer Lowery
Murphy’s Law
By Jennifer Lowery
Thank you for
purchasing this book.
Sign up for my newsletter to
receive new release announcements, special offers, sneak peeks into future
books, and bonus content and receive an e-book copy of my short story, Taking Chances
($.99 value) for FREE!
Murphy’s Law
By Jennifer Lowery
Copyright
©2014 by Jennifer Lowery
All
rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written
permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
License Notes
This
e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be
re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you
share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was
not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you
for respecting the author’s work.
Murphy’s
Law: Previously published by Lyrical Press, 2013
Cover
design by The Killion Group, Inc.
Editing by Piper Denna
Author photograph by Trent Anderson of GreatScotMan Photography
https://www.facebook.com/GreatScotManPhotography
I dedicate this book to
my Grandma Cook. This time my book is in the bag, Grandma!
There are many people who helped me
finish Murphy’s Law. For me, I never would have reached the end without the
loving support of my family. My hubby, Mike, I owe for taking on the burden of
supporting the family while I followed my dream. I love you, honey! And thanks
for the title! Murphy’s Law would be called something else if not for you. And
my children, Hunter and Jenna, for helping keep the house clean so I could
write! My sisters, Abby and Melissa, for their support and humor and fun times
when we got together for coffee and great conversation. My mom for always being
my biggest fan. My dad for being my biggest supporter. I still have the cards
and kind notes, Dad! Thanks, guys, for being there for me. Love ya!
To the fabulous Rom-Critters out there,
you guys ROCK! I value your friendships beyond words. Humbly, I thank you.
A special thank you goes out to my
critique partner and dear friend, D’Ann Lindun. She served as beta reader, CP,
sounding board, brainstorming partner and so much more. Whenever I needed her
she was there with a good word, ear to listen and solid advice. Without her I
don’t think I would have made it through the revision process! You rock, lady!
To the most fabulous editor in the
world, Piper Denna, who makes me a better writer! Thank you, Piper, for your
humor and encouragement, and guidance. My books wouldn’t be complete without
you!
And, to anyone I may have accidentally
overlooked please know you are not forgotten. I appreciate each and every one
of you who helped me get through the writing of this book.
Last, but not least, I just want to send
out a big THANK YOU to all my readers out there! Without you I wouldn’t be
here. My wish is to one day meet each and every one of you so I can personally
thank you for your generosity and support.
All my best,
Jennifer
Murphy didn’t like things that went bump
in the night.
Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling
in the darkness. Not sleeping. And trying not to think about things that
grieved him. A difficult task at best. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Wind
whistled through the open window. Cool mountain air brushed his naked flesh
where he lay atop his quilt, hands stacked behind his head.
The noise wasn’t the wind. It was on his
doorstep and probably not human. Most likely a bear scrounging for food.
Murphy didn’t take chances.
He pulled one arm from beneath his
pillow and steel glinted in the moonlight filtering through the window. He
rolled out of bed and stepped into a pair of jeans. Barefoot, he moved through
the doorway into the living room. Quietly, he maneuvered around furniture,
heading toward the front door. Holding his Beretta at shoulder level, he paused
to listen.
Seconds later something banged against
the wood. Thumbing the safety, he reached for the handle. A soft groan came
from the other side. Not an animal sound. A human noise. No one else lived in
this mountain valley. He must have heard wrong.
Ready for anything, he swung the door
open and leveled his gun on the intruder. A figure immediately crumpled at his
feet. A gust of wind whistled through the cabin.
Murphy looked down at the riot of silky
blond curls spread over his bare foot. The woman lying across his threshold lay
still. He did a sweep through the doorway to make sure she was alone before tucking
the weapon in the waistband of his jeans. He knelt down, lifted her into his
arms, and kicked the door shut. Carrying her to the sofa, he gently deposited
her and turned on the lamp. Soft light illuminated the room and the woman
stirred. Murphy’s gaze roamed over her. Her hair formed a cloud around her head
and framed an angelic face smeared with dirt and blood.
He studied the open wound on her temple.
Dried blood streaked her hair and cheek. Her clothes were dirty and rumpled,
the knee of her jeans torn to reveal scraped flesh, her hands red and raw.
An image flashed through his head and he
froze. Another woman lay on the sofa. Dark eyes pleading for help. To end her
pain. To save her, as the men who had captured him did unspeakable things to
her to break him. Air trapped in his chest. His throat closed. The memory held
him immobile as he stared at the blond woman, but saw another.
She let out a low moan that snapped him
back to the present. Muttering a curse, he grabbed the throw off the back of
the couch and covered her with it before striding into the bathroom to retrieve
a First Aid kit. As he turned on the water and let it warm, he braced his hands
on the edge of the sink and forced the images out of his head. They didn’t
usually haunt him while awake.
He wet a washcloth with warm water, his
heart pounding in his chest as he tried to put the past firmly where it
belonged. A terrified scream brought him up short. Dropping the cloth, Murphy
sprinted out of the bathroom and came to a halt when he saw the woman sitting
up on the sofa, searching blindly for something around her. The look on her
face made his gut clench. He recognized fear, had seen it too much in his life…
She turned to look at him. Her eyes
widened and she drew back against the arm of the sofa. Murphy made no move
toward her, nor did he say anything. Simply let her adjust to the sight of him,
silently cursing himself for not taking time to put on a shirt.
She blinked and flew to her feet,
spilling the blanket on the floor. Tears filled her eyes and she reached a
shaky hand toward him.
“Please, help me find Abby.” Weak and
desperate, her voice cut straight to the quick. Her legs wobbled like a newborn
colt’s and she swayed where she stood, but she didn’t look away from him, nor
did she allow herself to fall back on the couch. She blinked away tears and
tilted up her chin a notch, visibly pulling herself together. Murphy commended
her efforts, but didn’t approach her. She still looked ready to flee.
“Please,” she said again. Pleading.
Asking him to help her. Save her. Not knowing he couldn’t. “Help me find Abby.”
His chest tightened and he pushed the
memories back. Not the woman from his past. He wasn’t going there now. God, not
now.
This time she swayed sideways. Murphy
moved to her side and lowered her onto the sofa before she fell down.
“No.” She pushed against him. “I have to
find Abby. She’s lost…and scared…I couldn’t find her when I woke up…oh, please,
help me.”
She gripped his arms with amazing
strength considering her small size, and pleaded with him with eyes the color
of the sky. Her words sent him barreling into the past, but her eyes kept him
grounded in the present.
Finding his voice and focus, Murphy said
sternly, “You can barely stand and you’re losing blood. Neither of us is going
anywhere until I tend that wound. What is your name?”
“Sara. Be-Sheldon.”
Murphy ignored the slip of tongue. He
didn’t blame her for not wanting to give her real name to a complete stranger.
“I’m going to bandage your wound while
you tell me who Abby is and what happened. I’ll be right back with the First
Aid kit.”
Sara nodded, her eyes relaying relief
and gratitude. He detoured into his bedroom for a t-shirt. If she noticed the
gun tucked into his jeans, she didn’t comment. He returned to her side and slid
the coffee table back so he could kneel in front of her. She watched him as he
set the kit on the table and started to cleanse the wound on her temple with a
warm washcloth.
“Tell me what happened.”
She took a deep breath and folded her
hands together in her lap. “Abby is my daughter. We were hiking in the
forest--bird watching is one of our favorite hobbies--and there are so many
species up here...” Her voice trailed and she swallowed hard. Murphy urged her
on with a simple look and she pulled herself together.
“I stopped to tie my shoe and Abby saw
something she wanted to look at. She…she took off running and I…we were close
to a rocky ledge…I went after her and twisted my ankle and…fell. I hit my head
and…when I woke up…Abby was…gone. I’ve been looking for her for hours…she’s out
there, alone and scared and…oh, God.” With a sob, she pushed Murphy away and
buried her face in her hands.
Murphy’s gut clenched. “How old is
Abby?” He covered her hands with his and lowered them to her lap so he could
continue his work.
“Five. She’s very smart for her age.
She’s out there alone. I have to find her. She’s all I have.”
A lost little girl in the mountains with
night upon them and a thunderstorm rolling in. Not good odds, but Murphy kept
that fact to himself as he bandaged her wound. There were more dangers than he
could count out there. Finding the girl would be like looking for a needle in a
haystack for anyone not trained in search and rescue, which he was. He had
plenty of experience tracking…
“What is Abby carrying with her? Does
she have a pack of any kind?” he asked.
Sara met his eyes. “You’re going to help
me?”
“There’s a girl lost and I don’t have a
phone to call in the search and rescue team. The more time that goes by, the
less chance we have of finding her. There is no one else to help you.”
He said it like a threat, his voice
hard. It would be a waste of precious time to drive down the mountain to the
ranger station and wait for them to implement a team. The drive alone would
take fifty minutes.
She reached up and cupped his cheek. He
reared back as if she’d slapped him, then cursed and scowled at her.
“Abby has a backpack that she always
wears when we go hiking. There’s a small flashlight, a juice box, some
crackers, a fruit snack and her favorite doll.” Sara dropped her hand into her
lap as if just realizing what she’d done. “I’m fine. Can we just go find her?”
He rose to his feet. “How long ago did
you lose her?”
Sara nibbled her bottom lip. “I’m not
sure how long I was out. We went hiking after dinner. I guess that would have
been just before sunset.”
He glanced at the clock. Two AM now. At
least five hours had passed. With any luck the girl hadn’t traveled far, and
had stayed within a two-mile radius of where Sara had fallen.
“Describe to me where you fell.”
Sara recalled everything she remembered
and it didn’t take long for him to realize she had fallen down Cone Ridge,
which was four and a half miles from his cabin. How the hell did she stray over
rough, rocky, heavily wooded terrain in her condition?
He strode into his bedroom and pulled an
Army rucksack out of his closet. Old and battered, it would hold over eighty
pounds. He started packing it with survival gear while he mentally planned his
route to Cone Ridge.
When he emerged, completely dressed, he
found Sara waiting by the door, wringing her hands. She looked small and pale
and scared. He continued into the kitchen where he packed food and water, then
brushed past her and grabbed his parka off the wall hook beside the door. He
shrugged it on and slipped the rucksack over his shoulders.
“Everything you need is here,” he said.
“There isn’t much, so I’ll leave you to find it on your own. I’ll have the girl
back by morning.” He knew he could bust out a six-minute mile if he humped it
and took the shortest route. Not the easiest, but the shortest.
He turned to leave, but Sara caught his
sleeve. “I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not. You’ll only slow me
down.”
“You don’t understand. She won’t come to
you. She won’t even hear you. She’s deaf. If you approach her alone she’s going
to run, because I taught her to run from strangers.”
Murphy’s eyes narrowed. A vital piece of
information she should have told him sooner. It turned a difficult situation
into an extremely dangerous one. He couldn’t use his voice. A whistle wouldn’t
work. He would simply have to follow her trail directly to her and hope to God
he hadn’t lost his skills.
Sara looked ready to cry again. He
couldn’t handle tears, so he pinned her with a hard stare.
“She can run, but I’ll still bring her
back.”
Sara gasped. “You’ll scare her to
death.”
Murphy’s lip curled into a snarl. He
knew exactly what she referred to. He saw it every time he looked in the
mirror.
“It’s me or nothing, sweetheart,” he
growled, towering over her.
The top of her head barely reached his
shoulders and he used his height to intimidate her, but she didn’t back away.
Instead she tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes with a look of
determination and stubbornness that instantly annoyed him.
“Abby is my daughter and I am not
staying behind.” Although she shook like a leaf, she stood her ground.
“I work alone.”
“Not this time and not with my daughter.
Please understand, she’s all I have in the world and I won’t lose her. I’ll go
crazy waiting here, can’t you see that? If she was your daughter would you
trust anyone but yourself with her welfare?”
She pleaded to his softer side, but
would be disappointed to find he no longer had one. It had been beaten out of
him in a six-by-six-foot cage in Azbakastan.
Murphy yanked the door open. “I won’t
wait for you if you fall behind. Put on the parka hanging there.”
He strode out the door and into the
night.
* * * *
Sara grabbed the bulky parka off the
hook and slipped into it on her way out the door. She ran to catch up to the man
who made it clear he didn’t want her along. No way would she stay behind. Not
with her daughter’s life hanging in the balance.
When she stumbled over a rock, she
reached out to grab the back of his parka to prevent her fall. His stride
didn’t change and Sara didn’t let go. Since he knew the way, she held on to
him. At least she wouldn’t fall behind or lose him. She had to speed-walk to
keep up with his long stride, but didn’t complain.
They traveled into the forest until
moonlight no longer lit a path for them. It filtered ominously through the
trees in silvery strands. She imagined Abby alone and scared, cuddled under a
tree, shivering in her light jacket and sweater, clutching her doll for
comfort. A sob built in her throat but she swallowed it and trudged on. They
would find Abby before anything happened to her. She was a smart girl; she
would stay safe until they reached her. God knew she and Abby had been on the
run long enough for Abby to know how to protect herself.
Bitter resentment coiled through Sara at
the thought of what she and Abby had been through the last couple years.
Remnants of the misery her husband’s family had caused still lingered and made
her angry every time she thought about the manipulation that had gone on. How
wrong she’d been to stay as long as she did…
This wasn’t the time to stew over her
mistakes. The important thing was to find Abby and move on before the Benchleys
found them.
The man in front of her set a brutal
pace. Exhausted and having trouble keeping up, she gripped the hem of his parka
so she wouldn’t fall behind. Her daughter’s life rested in the hands of a
complete stranger, but she had no choice. She had searched on her own and
gotten nowhere except lost. Or maybe not, because now she had someone helping
her who seemed more than capable of finding her daughter. Pure luck had brought
her to his cabin.