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  Murphy’s Law

  By Jennifer Lowery

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Jennifer Lowery

  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

  Chapter 1

  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 s
he 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.
<
br />   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.

  “Hold tight, we’re going to climb a small hill here. The ground is wet so try not to lose your footing,” her guide instructed in the same gruff tone he’d used earlier.

  He may as well have put her on a sled and dragged her up the “small” hill. Her muscles protested the climb and she willed her legs to move as he pulled her up without breaking stride. Her added weight didn’t slow him down one iota, which suited her fine. It meant they would reach Abby faster, all that mattered. Her own aches and pains were meaningless.