Murphy's Law (2 page)

Jack reached for the door handle. “When you get hungry, you can scrape it off the floor.”

He leaned against the outside wall and listened while she vented her frustration with him. Luckily, the room didn’t have much furniture, because even with her hands tied she managed to toss a few wooden chairs around the room. She recovered most of her strength, which alleviated his guilt about Stucky giving her those shots.

He chuckled. Let her get it out of her system, he decided. She’d be so exhausted by evening that he wouldn’t need to drug her again.

“What’s going on?” Stucky asked.

“She didn’t like your cooking.” Glass shattered against the door, and Jack groaned. “When can we get moving again?”

“Tonight maybe.
Tomorrow at the latest.
Give her another shot.”

“No.” Although he’d been assured that, in moderation, the drug left no permanent damage, he wasn’t a doctor.

Another flying object crashed against the door, and his partner jumped. “Do you have a freaking death wish? You’ll never be able to control her like that.”

Jack thought about the woman he’d tailed for the past two months. An uncomfortable tightening stirred in his loins.
A reaction that happened far too often recently.
He mentally shook himself.
A death wish?
The fiery beauty in the other room was no threat to his life, only his hormones.

Casting the dangerous thoughts aside, he returned his attention to the older man’s worried expression. What the hell was Stucky’s problem? If they couldn’t handle one small woman, they should retire.

Normally his partner had cast iron nerves, but this job appeared to be getting to him. Although Stucky had tried to decline the assignment, Jack insisted on having him for back up once he actually grabbed Lilly. Unable to fully trust anyone within his own department, he preferred to bypass the normal channels and sneak her back into the country. To accomplish that goal, he needed Stucky’s expertise to get them in and out of ports undetected.

They disagreed fundamentally on the way to handle themselves, but Jack still had a tremendous amount of respect for the older man.
Where Stucky played by the established rules, Jack preferred to make his own.

“We’ll see how the day goes. You go into town and get supplies. I don’t want to stop again before we get to Tangier.”

Stucky nodded and seemed relieved. A few colleagues hinted that Stucky had lost his edge after the death of his partner the year before. Jack dismissed the charge at the time, but now he wondered. Stress had taken down more men than the job itself.

* * * *

Jack slouched in a chair to read the local paper. At dinnertime, he decided to make another attempt to feed Lilly. If she became weak, they might be delayed longer. He discarded the idea of cooking an egg in case he ended up with it on his face. How much damage could she do with a sandwich and cold water?

He peered around the door and entered carefully. A faded white sheet covered her body curled up on the cot. “Lilly?”

Although she pretended to be asleep, a muffled hiccup gave her away. An unfamiliar wave of regret washed over him.

He walked around the bed, avoiding the shattered remnants of her temper tantrum, and knelt down in front of her. “I know you’re awake.”

Her eyes flew open, and her untied hand shot out from below the sheet. A fragment of broken glass, clenched tightly in her fingers, sliced into his cheek. He recoiled at the same time her foot landed in his chest and sent him flying backwards into the wall.

* * * *

Lilly rolled off the far side of the bed and sprinted down a short corridor that led directly to the living room and kitchen area. Footsteps echoed through the house. Without looking behind her, she sprinted out the front door and into the wooded area beyond. Her body stayed in motion on pure instinct.

She zigzagged through the brush, scraping her arms on the bark of the trees she used for balance. Leaves and branches rustled beneath her feet. She kept a careful watch on the ground. Her ankle still hurt, and she couldn’t afford to twist it again.

Between the tall pines she caught sight of a house. The smoke from the chimney rose like a beacon, leading her to safety. Surely someone would help her. Less than twenty feet from the clearing, something in front of her moved.

She stopped short and stared straight into the snout of a wolf. The gray canine growled and eyed her warily. Her heart thumped against her ribs. She ran her tongue along her top lip, tasting the salty warmth of her nervous perspiration. Wolves don’t normally attack people, she reminded herself.
Unless of course they’re rabid,
her over-active imagination added.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice ordered from behind.

The wolf’s ears arched into an attack position.
She had a tough choice deciding on the lesser of the two evils. Either one could mean her death. The wolf would be quicker.

“Back up, slowly. Don’t turn. Don’t take your eyes off it.”

Lilly followed his orders and inched backwards. Her foot tangled in a fallen branch and she raised her arm instinctively. The animal bared its fangs and took a step towards her. One shot rang out, and the wolf yelped and took off in the other direction.

Before she had time to enjoy her relief, she was caught from behind and pulled to the ground. He straddled his legs across her hips to hold her down and grabbed both her wrists as she tried to pummel him.

The menacing eyes that glared down at her were as wild as the wolf’s and infinitely more dangerous. The gash on his cheek still bled. He wiped his arm across his face, leaving a bright red stain on his white shirtsleeve.

She sensed that he wanted to hurt her, but something stopped him. Why didn’t he just shoot her and get it over with?

He tied her wrists together with a piece of rope and helped her to her feet. “Don’t try that again.”

“What are you going to do, kill me?” she snapped.

He put his hand on her elbow and led her back towards the house. “No one’s going to kill you, Lilly. We just need to talk to you.”

She coughed to cover a nervous laugh. He couldn’t think her that naïve. “Yes. I got the message you guys left for me at my home.”

Jack exhaled a groan. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Oh, yeah.
And I should believe you.”

* * * *

Jack quickened his steps and pulled her along. He’d already drawn enough attention by discharging his gun. If a neighbor decided to check out the commotion, he would have a tough time keeping Lilly from yelling for help. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. I’ve had more than enough chances.”

“I always got away.”

Jack chuckled. Apparently, she believed herself caught up in a misguided game of international intrigue. “You got away because I let you. Except for Lisbon, where I’ll admit you got the better of me. I’ve always known where you were. If you saw me, I wanted you to.”

She stopped walking and cast him a mocking glare.
“Right.
I’ll bet that’s what you told your boss too.”

“Oh, come on, Lilly. I can tell you where you spent your first night in London. What you ate for breakfast every day. Why, I can even describe the sexy black lingerie you bought last week.”

Her eyes widened, and her face flushed scarlet. “And why would you want me to get away?”

“To keep you moving.
Every time you checked into a hotel you had to give your passport. It only takes a few days to track it down. I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Her bitter laugh spoke volumes. She didn’t believe him. “I suppose it never occurred to you to tell me this in the beginning and save all this trouble?”

“Not really. I only told you this much so you’d see that I don’t mean you any harm. I’d prefer not to have to drug you every time I move you. But if you make me, I will.”

“Who are you?
CIA?
FBI?”

“You read too many spy thrillers.” He tugged on her arm to get her moving again. “Who I work for isn’t important. Just follow orders and we’ll both live to tell our grandchildren about it.”

“Am I allowed
to know
your name, or is that classified information too?”

“Murphy.”

“Murphy?
And does that come with a first name or should I just call you...?”

“Jack,” he said, before she labeled him with her choice of colorful nickname.

They reached the front door, and he pushed it open with his foot.
“And one more thing.
It isn’t much of a face, but it’s mine. Don’t cut it again.”

“I wasn’t aiming for your face. I was aiming for your throat.”

“I guess I can be thankful you didn’t set your sights lower.” She jerked her arm free of his grasp and stomped into the house. That attempt failed, but he knew she would try again. He almost saw the wheels spinning in her head as she walked towards the bedroom. “Stay here.”

“I prefer to be alone.”

“Tough. I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself on the broken glass.”
Or to use another sliver to free herself from the rope again.
The woman had guts for an amateur. She flopped down on the worn sofa with a grunt.

He stepped over to the old porcelain sink and splashed water on his face, keeping a watchful eye on her at all times. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he blotted the gash along his face.

“Excuse me, Mr. Murphy, but I need the little girl’s room.”

Jack shot her a nasty scowl. She shrugged and smiled innocently.

“Come on.” He led her down the hall to the bathroom. She held her hands out in front, and he removed the rope. When she tried to close the door, he stuck his foot inside. “I think not.”

Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious? I can’t use the bathroom with an audience.”

“If you really need it, you can. Leave the door open.”

He took up a position just outside the bathroom. Humiliating her was not his objective, but he never made the same mistake twice. His little captive still possessed a fair amount of fight. “Turn on the water. It helps.”

“Go to hell!”

Jack laughed. No doubt one day he would. His wasted youth had earner him fire-front accommodations. No amount of penance could erase the memory or the guilt. He’d started out with such high ideals, but somewhere in the execution, he’d lost sight of the goals. His job of scaring the shit out of a woman not even charged with a crime left a foul taste in his mouth.

Would he care if they’d sent him after a middle-aged spinster with a wart on her nose? He wanted to believe so, but no assignment caused him to lose sleep like this one. An air of innocence surrounded her, despite her ability to wrap a man around her finger, as he learned from his incident in Lisbon.

“Are you still there?”

Lilly pounded her fist against the wall. He tried not to laugh when he heard the water running. Something like that had to be easier for men.

She finally emerged from the bathroom and returned to her seat in the living room. He admired her strength. She neither cried nor pleaded like many women in her position might do.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders indifferently, refusing to admit she wanted anything, but he guessed she must be hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything in the last day.

He opened the old refrigerator and removed cheese and a chunk of crusty bread. He handed her the sandwich and sat in the squeaky wooden chair across from her.

She drummed her fingers on the frayed arm of the sofa. “How much longer are we going to be in this resort?”

“Depends on the weather.”

“I suppose if I asked where we’re going from here, you wouldn’t tell me.
Right?”

“Right.
Think of it as an adventure.”

“An adventure is shopping in New York City.”

The sarcasm of her words failed to mask the anxiety reflected in her eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said softly, hoping to calm her fears. “You have my word on that.”

She leaned back in the chair and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “There’s a comfort. You drug me, kidnap me and take me against my will over international borders. Now I should rest easy on the word of a terrorist.”

He stiffened. “I am not a terrorist.”

Lilly’s stinging barb touched a raw nerve. His own family had accused him of something similar. After all, there wasn’t much difference in the job, only in the people who paid him.

“That depends on your point of view, doesn’t it? If what you’re doing were legal, I’d be going through an extradition process. Even a criminal is permitted legal counsel.”

He couldn’t argue with the truth. Her job as an export clerk made her well versed in international law. However, he couldn’t bring her back through the regular channels. Their survival might depend on no one knowing about her return to the States. If she tried to go back on her own, she might not make it there alive.