Murphy's Law Page 6

  Sara stared into Murphy’s eyes and saw a reflection of herself. Someone alone in the world keeping secrets. His scars were a testament to that. He masked it well, but she wasn’t fooled. This man’s emotions ran deep. She had a feeling if she ever tapped into them it would send her into a tailspin and when she finally stopped, she would never be the same.

  “I’m not usually this emotional,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to witness it again.”

  Murphy narrowed his eyes slightly. “I won’t allow you to stall me for long, Sara. I will get answers.”

  His words were spoken softly but not without threat. Her blood ran cold. She didn’t want him involved in her nightmare.

  Rising and pushing past his legs only because he allowed her to, Sara murmured goodnight and disappeared into the security of her bedroom. As she closed the door behind her she felt her resolve weakening.

  She wasn’t going to escape Murphy’s keen senses for long. The thought of trusting and confiding in someone again terrified her. Especially a man who stirred emotions in her she couldn’t even begin to understand.

  How on Earth was she going to get through the next few days without being forced to bare her soul?

  * * * *

  Sara woke up with a start. She opened her eyes to complete darkness, except for flashes of lightning through the window. At first she thought Abby had woken her, but her daughter slept peacefully next to her, her breathing soft and steady.

  Awake now, Sara pulled the quilt over Abby’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The bedside clock read two AM. Her head pulsed. A couple more of Murphy’s aspirin would help.

  Carefully, she slipped out of bed and from the room without waking Abby. Her bare feet padded silently across the wood floor as she headed toward the bathroom. A low, guttural moan broke the silence and stopped her dead in her tracks. Frozen, she waited. This time it came as a grunt and low mumbling from Murphy’s room. The torment in his voice drew her to his closed door. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d opened the door and stepped inside.

  In the darkness she made out Murphy’s form lying prone, across the bed. She stood transfixed inside the door, staring at the man sprawled amongst the sheets.

  His body twitched, fists clenched on his pillow. Drawn to him, she moved silently to the side of the bed and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, thinking only to wake him from his dream. She’d had more than her share of nightmares in her lifetime and wished she’d had someone to wake her from their torment. His skin was slick with sweat, his muscles bunched beneath her hand. Then he trembled.

  “Mur--”

  His hand whipped out and clamped around her throat in a vise-like grip. Sara wrapped her hands around his forearms and squeezed as she was thrown onto the bed and crushed beneath the weight of his body.

  Lightning flashed and she saw a lethal coldness in his eyes that made her wish she hadn’t come into his room. He looked through her, trapped in his past. She’d become a part of his dream and she hoped like hell he woke up soon because she couldn’t breathe. She clawed at his arms, but his grip didn’t loosen.

  “Never again,” he growled in a voice that didn’t belong to him. The cold, lifeless voice was edged with steel and Sara felt its punch clear to her bones.

  Futilely, she pulled at Murphy’s hands. Wake up, Murphy.

  She tried to speak, but the pressure on her voice box prevented her. Gasping for air, she writhed beneath him. He was solid muscle from head to toe. Until he decided to let her go she was his prisoner. It wasn’t until he shifted that she realized he was completely naked on top of her.

  Dots danced in front of her eyes as his hand tightened on her throat. She did the only thing she could think of. Straining against his hand, she pressed her lips to Murphy’s.

  He stilled on top of her and his grip tightened before slowly relaxing. His lips were firm against hers and beaded with perspiration. His body, coiled tight with restrained tension and control, both scared and excited her. What would happen if he unleashed that control? She deepened the kiss and marveled in the tiny tremors rocking through her and stirring long hidden desires.

  Murphy represented her deepest, darkest secrets. She couldn’t stop the need to explore what lay between them in the darkness of his room. Fire raced through her veins, searching for an escape and consuming her with every beat of her heart. Though he wasn’t kissing her back and lay rigid on top of her, Sara felt alive. Her fingers dug into his forearms as she sank her teeth into his lower lip and got more than she bargained for when he crushed his lips to hers with a hunger that inflamed her. She had awakened the beast.

  The hand circling her neck loosened and now rested lightly on her collar bone as he ravaged her mouth in ways that made her wonder if he would ravage her body with the same intensity. Conscious thought fled when he shifted and slid a hand over her ribcage beneath her shirt, his calloused hand rough against her sensitive skin. Aroused by the rasp of his hands, she circled his neck with her arms and furrowed her fingers in his silky hair, dampened from his dream. She had never been this responsive or turned on by Kent. So this was what she’d been missing. She’d had no idea a man’s kiss could send her up in flames.

  Murphy cupped her breast and she cried out in pleasure. She arched into him as fires consumed her until she could no longer put two words together. God help her, she had never felt anything like this and she wanted more. Untangling her hands from his hair, she skimmed them down his taut back, feathering over the uneven scars covering his flesh and creating a maelstrom of emotions inside her. She clung to him, torn by the need to protect him and have him. What had he lost for these scars?

  Murphy tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her with hungry eyes. Her toes curled from the heat of his stare. Then, just as quickly, the heat was gone and all emotion was masked, turning him into a distant stranger once more. It doused the flames licking inside her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Murphy demanded in a low, gravelly voice that belied his expression. He wasn’t as immune as he’d like to be.

  “I--” Sara cleared her throat. “You were dreaming and I came to wake you.” She swallowed and winced. Murphy’s mouth thinned into a tight line. He reached over her head and snapped on the bedside lamp. Soft light filled the room and Sara blinked to adjust, feeling her cheeks flush because of Murphy’s nudity.

  Although she still suffered the effects of his kisses, she wasn’t ready for him to see her like this. She had acted completely out of character and it embarrassed her. She never responded so boldly in bed, nor had she been so close to losing control of mind and body.

  Sara dropped her chin in a vain attempt to prevent him from seeing the bruises she could feel forming around her neck, but Murphy gently cupped her chin so he could turn her head to the side. He drew in a sharp breath and she closed her eyes against the anger radiating from him. She knew it wasn’t directed toward her.

  “You shouldn’t have come in here,” he said in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear him. She didn’t know if he was referring to what he’d done or what they’d done. Maybe both. Either way, she didn’t regret it and she wasn’t going to let him.

  Sara turned to face him, meeting his eyes without flinching. The more Murphy felt, the more he withdrew and the colder he became. What made him this way? She wanted the passionate, unbridled man back. She wanted the man with heat in his eyes and hunger in his kisses.

  She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I’m okay. I’m fine now. I should have called to you from the door instead of walking in on you. I’m sorry.”

  She’d thought only to soothe him, but he drew back with an angry expression.

  “Dammit, Sara, you’re not fine. I hurt you. I could have snapped your neck and you’re sorry? Why the hell are you always apologizing?”

  His words cut straight through her defenses and stung because he was right. She had gotten into the habit of apologizing for everything she did. It had become
normal for her to constantly try and be something she wasn’t, in order to please. Even after separating herself from the ones she was trying to impress.

  Long buried anger churned inside her as Murphy’s accusation brought old haunts close to the surface.

  “I apologized for overstepping my bounds, coming into your room, but you know what? I’m not sorry. I’m glad I came in here. I’m glad I got a glimpse of the man you try so hard to hide beneath that scowl and harsh words. I want to see that man again, Murphy. I want him to set me on fire with his kisses and make me forget what brought me here. I want him to show me what I’ve been missing all my life and I want to know where he got those scars and what they cost him. How’s that for an apology?” She pushed his chest, knowing the only way she could leave was if he let her. “Get off me so I can leave.”

  He didn’t prevent her escape. He rolled off her and pulled the sheet up to his waist while she adjusted her clothes and sent him a haughty glare before stalking from the room. She slammed the door behind her and felt marginally better.

  Damn that man for slapping her in the face with her own past. How could he sum up all her mistakes in one simple sentence? He couldn’t know she’d tried everything in her power, including becoming a different person, to make the Benchleys accept her. Damn the man for being so perceptive.

  Sara stalked to bed.

  Chapter 6

  I want you to set me on fire with your kisses…

  Sara’s words echoed through Murphy’s head long after she slammed the door behind her. He raked a hand through his hair and cursed his body’s prolonged response to her. He didn’t remember her coming into his room, or grabbing onto her, and that scared the hell out of him. He would never consciously hurt her, but when he was trapped in the past he couldn’t be responsible for what he did.

  In his nightmare, it had been an Islamic Party of Azbakastan guard sneaking into his cage to interrogate him for information he would die before giving up. Special Forces made for good hostages and were considered cream of the crop, so they received special treatment. In his case, nine months in a six-by-six-foot cage moved from location to location in order to prevent rescue.

  He’d endured unconventional interrogation methods that should have killed him and for nine months he fought against his captors, holding onto the Ranger creed and trusting his comrades would do the same. They wouldn’t leave him behind, and they didn’t, but it took them almost a year to locate him. It wasn’t until the ninth month, when the IPT broke him and that his career ended…

  Murphy cursed and flung the sheets off the bed. He swung his legs over the side and glared at the door. He had been doing all right until Sara Sheldon showed up on his doorstep and sent him hurtling into the past, reminding him of what he’d lost. She needed protection and he’d almost killed her.

  Murphy stood and paced to the door, then back to his bed. Images of light bruising around Sara’s neck haunted him. It shouldn’t have happened and he had to make sure it didn’t happen again. If it meant installing a padlock on his door, then he would do it. He couldn’t control what he did in sleep and that loss of control scared him more than nine months in a cage without knowing if his team would find him. There had been compassion in Sara’s eyes when she cupped his cheek. She would try to help him again. He had every intention of stopping her, because he didn’t need her help.

  His mother and sisters had tried and he wasn’t up for another female trying to fix him. Some things couldn’t be forgiven and what he’d done in that cage could never be. He hadn’t told his mom or sisters what he’d gone through, but they had seen the scars and tried to erase them for him, not knowing he didn’t want to. The scars were a reminder of his failure as a Ranger and as his father’s son. If his dad had lived to see him now, he would be disappointed. His dad deserved better than what Murphy offered.

  Dropping down onto the bed, he cradled his head in his hands and closed his eyes against the cold hard reality of what he’d lost in those nine months. His temples began to ache in the familiar way they did when he was forced to face the events that led him to a solitary life in the mountains.

  Until Sara and Abby Sheldon showed up.

  Waking up to Sara’s soft kiss had fired his blood. It still smoldered. Tasting her innocence and hesitancy had been an aphrodisiac like never before. Feeling her softness beneath him had almost seduced him into showing her what she was missing, as she so honestly put it.

  Dammit, he wasn’t the man to find herself with. She would regret it afterward and he had already hurt her enough. He wouldn’t add sleeping with her to his list of wrong doings. She was searching for something, but he wasn’t the one to help her find it. He had located her daughter and gotten them out of the danger zone. When the road cleared, he would buy and put on four tires and escort her out of town the back way so no one would see her. Then he would wave her off and hope she found what she was looking for. Afterward, he would return to his life of solitude and be happy they were gone.

  And somehow try and forget how right she felt in his arms.

  * * * *

  “Where are you going?” Sara shut the door to the dryer and propped a plastic clothesbasket on her hip as she watched Murphy shrug into a parka.

  He zipped it up without looking at her or answering the question. They had been avoiding each other the past twenty-four hours the best they could, given the close quarters. Neither spoke about what happened in Murphy’s bedroom and she took care to cover her bruises with turtlenecks. Although July, it felt more like fall most days so it wasn’t unusual for her to be dressed this way. She didn’t want Abby to see the bruising around her neck or Murphy to be reminded of that night, so she kept it covered.

  “To check the road,” Murphy finally answered.

  “But it’s only just stopped raining. Do you think it’s open already?”

  “No.”

  “Then why bother?”

  Murphy turned to her. His eyes snagged on her turtleneck sweater and narrowed before lifting to meet hers. Guilt flashed before he masked it. She started to smooth it over, but he sent her a warning look so she snapped her mouth shut.

  “I won’t be long,” he said.

  Sara nodded, hating the tension between them. She wasn’t angry with him for what he’d done. Although she didn’t fully understand it, she didn’t blame him. Murphy wouldn’t intentionally hurt her; she didn’t want him berating himself over it. Where did he go in his tortured dreams at night?

  Murphy reached out and tugged the collar of her shirt down to reveal her bruises. His mouth thinned and a muscle jumped along his jaw. Why did he torment himself like this? She started to pull away, but his fingers on her skin stopped her. Tenderly, he traced the bruises, leaving goose bumps in his wake.

  Mesmerized, she waited. His touch caressed her skin and her breath hitched.

  “Dammit, Sara, you shouldn’t have gone in,” he murmured.

  The torment in his voice shook her. She knew Abby couldn’t see them from where she sat at the kitchen table having a glass of milk and a peanut butter sandwich, so Sara reached up and touched Murphy’s sleeve. Murphy hadn’t forgiven himself for hurting her. He may never admit it but he was a noble man, maybe the first one she had ever met. The men in her life had been lots of things but honorable wasn’t one of them. If it had been the Benchleys, they would have had her apologizing for provoking them…as she had with Murphy. She remembered too well how he had reacted to that.

  If only he knew the physical bruises hurt much less than the emotional. She could handle a few surface bruises. The inner ones never seemed to heal. Studying the scar on his face, she wondered if it were true for Murphy too.

  “How about a truce?” she asked and watched Murphy’s eyes narrow. “I agree not to go into your room without knocking first and you trust me when I say you didn’t hurt me.”

  The hand smoothing the bruises on her neck stilled.

  “No. You stay out of my room, no matter what you hear, and I won�
��t hurt you again.” His voice sounded as if he were chewing on glass.

  “Why can’t you forgive yourself? I’m fine, no harm done.”

  Murphy’s expression darkened like a thundercloud. “You don’t get it, do you? I could have killed you, Sara. I’m a very dangerous man.”

  Sara shook her head. “No, Murphy, the man chasing me is dangerous. You are different because you can’t forgive yourself for a few bruises. That makes you a good man in my eyes. You saved my daughter’s life and have taken us into your home, so don’t tell me that you’re dangerous, because I don’t believe it.”

  Murphy’s hand dropped from her neck and he glowered at her. He jerked the door open. “You’re a poor judge of character. You should be more careful.” The door closed quietly behind him.

  Sara let out a long, shaky breath. He was right. She was a poor judge of character. Her former husband was proof of that. Had she misjudged Murphy? She refused to believe Murphy was like them. His actions were at odds with his words. He had been asleep when he grabbed her, so how could she be wrong about him? He hadn’t awakened until she kissed him. Then he’d been responsible for his actions. Sara shuddered in memory of those telling actions, her body remembering just how responsible he’d been.

  No, she didn’t believe it. The only way to know for sure was to find out where Murphy went in his dreams. The key lay in his nightmares and, she suspected, in his scars.

  Question was, did she really want to know?

  * * * *

  Murphy drew fresh air into his lungs and let it out slowly. The skies were cloudy but it had finally stopped raining. He didn’t need to check the road. It washed out every time it rained and usually took days to dry up, but he was going stir crazy in the cabin with Sara underfoot.

  They had done a fairly good job of steering clear of each other since the night he almost made love to her. Every time he turned around she was there with her honey blond hair and sky blue eyes that always seemed to be watching him. She covered herself with jeans and turtlenecks but they didn’t hide the pure, sensual woman beneath. If anything, they enhanced the fact and it drove him nuts. He’d never been one to act on impulse, but damn if he didn’t want to finish what they’d started.