Murphy's Law (The Bounty Hunter Series - Book 1) by Laurie LeClair Page B
Authors: Laurie LeClair
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The sheriff didn’t even get a word out before his dead body hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The shot still pulsed in his ears. He figured shock kept them all rooted to the spot. He became aware of Echo trembling beside him. Slowly, he eased behind her, taking the gun from her shaky hands. Carefully, he tucked it in the back of his jeans. “Good job,” he said under his breath.
To his surprise, she didn’t fight him for control of the weapon. She didn’t put up any resistance at all. “Hitting hard. Vision coming and going,” she whispered so only he could hear.
Now he knew why she gave it up. Someone had to have their wits about them.
“Fuck,” the boss swore. “Didn’t want to do that now. We coulda used him for a while longer. Boys, get him outta here. Dig a grave and dump him in it. Make sure no one’s around.”
Murphy guessed they were too stunned to say anything, or too scared to refuse. They jumped to follow commands, getting a tarp and rolling the sheriff’s body onto it.
“You two,” the boss said. “Come with me.”
With his hand on her elbow, Murphy guided Echo out of the cramped, broken-down stall and out of the equally ancient barn. Nearby in a corral, a horse whinnied and reared up. “That’s our boy,” he said to Echo as they both turned to see the horse they’d rode earlier.
“He’s okay,” Echo said on a sigh of relief.
“Don’t take all day,” the boss said. He jerked his head toward the house more than forty feet away. “In there.”
Murphy walked slowly, matching his steps to Echo’s. She nearly sagged beside him. But she kept putting one foot in front of the other. He assumed she was on autopilot and fighting the pain again.
She fought like hell for both of them, even after she discovered the truth about them, about the son they shared.
He loved this woman. He wanted a long life with her and their child.
But he was up against some heavy duty, bad-ass guys.
When everything was said and done, would they let Echo and him live?
***
The house surprised Murphy. Pictures hung on the walls. Knickknacks were scattered here and there, he noted as they made their way through the first floor of the two-story farmhouse. Flowers in a vase stood in the center of the big, scarred kitchen table. A woman’s touch. That had him reevaluating the situation.
The boss had a soft spot. Finally.
Maybe Murphy could save Echo at least.
“Sit.” He shoved Murphy toward a chair at the table. Murphy stumbled, but kept upright, favoring his aching leg. He wanted to punch the guy, but stopped himself. “You, honey, you stay with me.”
“The hell she will,” Murphy bit out, nudging Echo in front of him to a seat. She dropped down into it. Her body slumped. He settled into a chair beside her, propping her up. “She needs water and food to begin with.”
“Hand over the gun.” He leaned against a counter.
“You think?” Murphy scoffed at that.
He nodded to Echo. “She don’t get anything then.”
Murphy dug in his front pocket and pulled out some of the broken pieces of jerky he’d stashed there. He gave them to Echo. She muttered her thanks and began chewing on them.
The boss grunted. “We’re at a stalemate here.”
Murphy bargained. AYou—just you—get us out of here and you get the gold all to yourself.
He laughed. “You think I’d live long enough to spend it? There’s a lot more guys in higher places to answer to.
“You think they’re not going to finger you when people start asking questions about the sheriff?” Echo asked.
“Not me, honey. You.”
For a split second, Murphy stilled. “Now how are you going to do that?”
“Get her to fire my gun. Gunpowder on her hand. Prints on the gun.” He shrugged. “No one’s ever gonna doubt it with the evidence piling up.”
“Motivation?”
“Why, the son-of-a-bitch is gonna be blamed on killing you.”
“That means—”
“You’re a liability.”
“That’s what you say about all
The shot still pulsed in his ears. He figured shock kept them all rooted to the spot. He became aware of Echo trembling beside him. Slowly, he eased behind her, taking the gun from her shaky hands. Carefully, he tucked it in the back of his jeans. “Good job,” he said under his breath.
To his surprise, she didn’t fight him for control of the weapon. She didn’t put up any resistance at all. “Hitting hard. Vision coming and going,” she whispered so only he could hear.
Now he knew why she gave it up. Someone had to have their wits about them.
“Fuck,” the boss swore. “Didn’t want to do that now. We coulda used him for a while longer. Boys, get him outta here. Dig a grave and dump him in it. Make sure no one’s around.”
Murphy guessed they were too stunned to say anything, or too scared to refuse. They jumped to follow commands, getting a tarp and rolling the sheriff’s body onto it.
“You two,” the boss said. “Come with me.”
With his hand on her elbow, Murphy guided Echo out of the cramped, broken-down stall and out of the equally ancient barn. Nearby in a corral, a horse whinnied and reared up. “That’s our boy,” he said to Echo as they both turned to see the horse they’d rode earlier.
“He’s okay,” Echo said on a sigh of relief.
“Don’t take all day,” the boss said. He jerked his head toward the house more than forty feet away. “In there.”
Murphy walked slowly, matching his steps to Echo’s. She nearly sagged beside him. But she kept putting one foot in front of the other. He assumed she was on autopilot and fighting the pain again.
She fought like hell for both of them, even after she discovered the truth about them, about the son they shared.
He loved this woman. He wanted a long life with her and their child.
But he was up against some heavy duty, bad-ass guys.
When everything was said and done, would they let Echo and him live?
***
The house surprised Murphy. Pictures hung on the walls. Knickknacks were scattered here and there, he noted as they made their way through the first floor of the two-story farmhouse. Flowers in a vase stood in the center of the big, scarred kitchen table. A woman’s touch. That had him reevaluating the situation.
The boss had a soft spot. Finally.
Maybe Murphy could save Echo at least.
“Sit.” He shoved Murphy toward a chair at the table. Murphy stumbled, but kept upright, favoring his aching leg. He wanted to punch the guy, but stopped himself. “You, honey, you stay with me.”
“The hell she will,” Murphy bit out, nudging Echo in front of him to a seat. She dropped down into it. Her body slumped. He settled into a chair beside her, propping her up. “She needs water and food to begin with.”
“Hand over the gun.” He leaned against a counter.
“You think?” Murphy scoffed at that.
He nodded to Echo. “She don’t get anything then.”
Murphy dug in his front pocket and pulled out some of the broken pieces of jerky he’d stashed there. He gave them to Echo. She muttered her thanks and began chewing on them.
The boss grunted. “We’re at a stalemate here.”
Murphy bargained. AYou—just you—get us out of here and you get the gold all to yourself.
He laughed. “You think I’d live long enough to spend it? There’s a lot more guys in higher places to answer to.
“You think they’re not going to finger you when people start asking questions about the sheriff?” Echo asked.
“Not me, honey. You.”
For a split second, Murphy stilled. “Now how are you going to do that?”
“Get her to fire my gun. Gunpowder on her hand. Prints on the gun.” He shrugged. “No one’s ever gonna doubt it with the evidence piling up.”
“Motivation?”
“Why, the son-of-a-bitch is gonna be blamed on killing you.”
“That means—”
“You’re a liability.”
“That’s what you say about all
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