Murphy's Law (13 page)

She clung to him, her shoulders shaking, her sniffles audible. He kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart, we need to go so we won't miss our flight.”

May nodded, blindly reached out a hand to Ashley, which she squeezed, then she turned and rushed up the small steps of the RV.

Jude cupped Ashley's face. “Listen to Denny, and be very, very careful.”

“Hey, I don't want you worrying, either. We'll all be fine. You just concentrate on keeping May the most ecstatic woman in the world.”

Just then, through the open window of the RV, everyone heard May's sobbing.

Jude looked toward the RV, shook his head and laughed. “You can count on it.” His hand lingered on Ashley's cheek. “You're more special to her than you know.”

After that cryptic comment, he kissed her forehead and bounded up the steps. With a final wave, he closed the door, and the driver started the engine. A black car holding two guards pulled away first, then the RV, then another car.

Strong arms wrapped around Ashley from behind. “You okay, honey?”

Another novelty—having someone to lean on, someone who gently cared. “I'm fine.” Ashley covered Quinton's hands with her own, put her head back on his shoulder and watched the small caravan until it had left the private drive and turned onto the main street.

She twisted around to face Quinton. Keeping her gaze on his tie, she said, “I suppose it's time for us to go?”

“Unless you'd rather stay a while longer. It's early yet and Denny is happy to keep the party going. Jude's family will spend another night—”

Ashley shook off her shyness and put a finger to his lips. “I want to go.”

New heat shone in his eyes. “All right.”

She quelled a smile and teased, “You're so easy.”

“You two are embarrassing me,” Denny interjected with complaint. “Why don't you take this someplace private?”

Much aggrieved, Quinton rolled his eyes, but Ashley knew she had to tell them about the phone call.

A furtive look around the area ensured no one else was around to hear. “We need to talk first.” Both men stared at her. Best to get it over with, she decided. “And I suppose I should call the cops, too.”

Denny nearly popped the buttons on his dress shirt. “What's happened?”

“Elton called.” She winced, knowing how they'd react. “He sort of…threatened me.”

The words no sooner left her mouth than Quinton had her arm, escorting her around the corner with alacrity. The second they were out of sight of the other guests, Denny caught her other arm and turned her to face him. “When? How?”

“For crying out loud.” She dusted off their hands with more energy than necessary. “Take it easy, why don't you?”

Nostrils flared, Denny towered over her. “I'll kill that son of a bitch.”

“When did this happen, Ash?”

Quinton seemed to be the calmer of the two, so she concentrated on him. “Right before the ceremony.” And before Denny could self-combust, as he appeared ready to do, she added, “I planned to tell you all along, but I had to wait until May and Jude left.”

“Jesus, Joseph and Mary.
Why?”

“I didn't want to ruin their ceremony.”

“But we could have—”

“What? The number he called from was anonymous. He wasn't on there that long, didn't identify himself by name, and said nothing that would clue me in to where he is.” She held her arms out to her sides. “There's nothing we can do.”

“You're sure it was him?” Denny asked.

She nodded. “I'm sure.”

Quinton slashed a hand through the air. “What did he say to you?”

“You know,” Ashley told him, eyeing his inflexible stance alongside Denny, “you're starting to look and sound a lot like old DZ here.”

“God forbid.” Quinton relaxed his posture but not his attitude. “I understand why you wouldn't want to say anything that might've ruined the wedding. But what about the hours since then? You've had ample opportunity to share something so important.”

She nodded toward Denny. “Look at him. He's about to boil over. Even his ears are red. And Jude knows him real well, including all his moods. You really think Denny could have fooled him?”

“Now wait a minute,” Denny protested. “How did this become my fault?”

“She's right,” Quinton said, surprising Ashley with his support. “But that's water under the bridge. Tell me what he said, word for word.”

This was the tricky part. She didn't want either man to blow a gasket and cause a scene, but she'd have to alert the authorities, which meant she'd have to tell Quinton and Denny first. “He took me by surprise, so I don't remember exactly. He said something along the lines of while I might pretend to be tough, I'm still just a girl and all girls need a man.”

They both appeared boggled by that disclosure. Ashley gave it up. “Then he said he'd punish me.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Quinton, who watched her closely, ignored Denny's outburst. “So we can assume he hasn't left the area, not if he says he's around to punish you. What else?”

“He said all the guards in the world wouldn't protect me.” Ashley looked from one man to the other. “So who put guards on me?”

Quinton took a step closer to her. He cradled her cheek in his big hand and nodded. “I did, and they're staying.”

Surprised, Denny tucked in his chin. “So did Jude.”

“I know.” Quinton spoke without releasing Ashley from the force of his attention. “He and I discussed it first thing.”

Ashley crossed her arms under her breasts. “You two cozied up real quick.”

“We both have your best interests at heart.”

“And the guards are staying.” Denny agreed with Quinton.

“Mine are.” Quinton's eyes narrowed at Denny. “But Jude's men aren't necessary.”

Denny took that on the chin. “The hell you say! They're staying.”

“I have it under control.”

He jutted his face toward Quinton. “Yeah, well so do I.”

“She doesn't need an army to protect her.” Quinton turned to face Denny. “That'll just draw attention and put her at added risk. With too many unknowns hanging around, distinguishing the good guys from the bad guys gets tough.”

“I handpicked those men.” Denny nosed in closer, staring Quinton down. “I know them. I trust them.”

Quinton didn't give an inch. “I don't care if half of them are related by blood. They're not—”

Refusing to be sandwiched between male one-upmanship, Ashley turned and walked away. Idiots.

“Ashley.”

She sent Quinton a dismissive wave and kept walking. They meant well, but their techniques could use some finesse.

Masculine grumbling erupted behind her, but what the heck, if they killed each other, it'd save her the trouble.

She located her sandals under a linen-covered table by a shade tree. Making use of one of the many chairs still scattered about, she dropped into the seat, then bent to slide the sandals onto her feet.

Just as she straightened again, a long shadow settled around her. “Uh…you okay, Ash?”

Tim. She swallowed her groan, pushed her hair behind her shoulders, and looked up at him. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Dappled sunlight glinted on Tim's dark hair and in his wary eyes. “Just dandy. How about you?”

Propping one shoulder against the tree, Tim stared toward his parents and shrugged. “I'm okay.”

Oh, great. Drama time. “You sound a little drunk.”

He rubbed his face. “Yeah. Maybe a little. I tried to steer clear of the stuff, I swear I did, but Mom kept refilling my glass.” Sheepish, he said, “I don't think May was too pleased to see her with a flask.”

A flask? At her daughter's wedding? Good grief. Because of her parents' drinking problem, May had a real aversion to alcohol. She and Jude had chosen to serve wine at the reception, but nothing stronger. “Olympia shouldn't have brought it against May's wishes.”

“I know. I told her so.”

“You did?” Astonished, Ashley dropped back in her seat. “Well, good for you, Tim.”

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, his head hanging, he dug the toe of his black dress shoe into the soft earth around the tree. “May seemed happy, didn't she?”

Was Tim actually concerned for his sister? Chalk one up for Denny's good influence. “I'd say she's blissful.”

“Yeah.” He looked up with a smile, and Ashley thought he wasn't a bad-looking guy. If only his character weren't so weak. Then again, as he claimed, he'd been working on that, too.

After a moment of strained silence, Tim asked, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“The chairs are free.”

“Yeah, I know, but…I don't want to run you off again.”

Was she so transparent? She glanced toward Denny and Quinton. Quinton was on his cell phone, probably with the cops, while Denny paced a circle around him.

Tim's consideration seemed genuine, so she shrugged. “I'm not going anywhere.” Waving her hand toward a chair, she said, “Take a load off.”

“Thanks.” Tim sat, but he in no way looked relaxed. “You know I've been training with Denny in my spare time, right?”

Tim was like a kid right before Christmas; he talked of little else besides his current involvement in preparations for cage fighting. Ashley didn't think he stood a chance, but then, she wasn't the expert, and Denny had turned more than one guy into a champion.

Rather than converse, Ashley made a sound of agreement. She laid her head back and closed her eyes. The day felt so very peaceful, despite the low drone of Quinton on the phone, the laughter and chitchat of other guests, and the very real threat of a maniac who apparently had switched his hatred from Jude to her.

“So far I've spent only a few hours each day with him. Mostly learning the basics. I've wanted to do more, but any intense training takes six or more hours a day. I can't work and do both. A man doesn't take handouts, so I have to save up some cash first.”

Ashley's eyes popped open. Since when did Tim refuse a handout? Hell, he'd always expected the regular handout and hand up and any old helping hand he could get from any source available.

She said cautiously, “I see,” when really, she didn't see a thing.

Tugging at his ear, Tim cleared his throat and said, “I'll go on working, but I won't be able to run the car dealership for Dad anymore.”

“And I bet good old Stuart isn't too happy about that?” Stuart Price cared about little other than those things that affected his fun. He didn't want to run the dealership himself anymore because it'd bite into the time he spent carousing.

Like a defeated pup, Tim dropped his head down. “He blames May.”

Ashley looked toward Stuart Price and felt bone-deep loathing. “I just bet he does.”

“Because she married Jude and Denny works for Jude, and Denny's the one encouraging me—”

“I know how it works, Tim. Whatever the path, it always leads back to May.” Ashley's gaze transferred to May's mother. Olympia Price sucked on her cigarette like a nicotine-starved junkie. Ashley had gotten used to seeing the red glow of the cigarette in her right hand, a loaded drink in her left. “I've watched your folks dole out the blame for years.”

Tim's shoulders went back in an uncommon display of backbone. “I want you to know…I told them they're wrong.”

“Gave it some lip service, did you?” Far as Ashley was concerned, actions went a whole lot further than words.

“I had to. If it weren't for May, I'd be dead right now.”

Well, hell, the shock of hearing Tim admit the truth damn near stopped her heart. Ashley narrowed her eyes in consternation. “Come again?”

“Elton wanted me dead. I was too stupid to handle things the right way. If it hadn't been for May, and how she dealt with it, I wouldn't have met Jude and Denny, and Elton would have probably beaten me to death, then left me in a ditch. You know he tried.”

“He busted you up a little,” Ashley said with a deliberate lack of concern in her tone, “but he didn't do any real damage.”

Tim stared at her a long time, but rather than whine about things as he usually did, he gave her a lopsided grin. “It sure felt like real damage.”

Ashley snickered. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

He reached for her hand, and suddenly, he seemed more like a man than ever before. “I was a coward. I
am
a coward.”

She couldn't exactly debate that point, so she said nothing.

“But you aren't.”

Praise from Tim? Not a come-on, but an honest compliment on her character? “What are you talking about?”

“I just…I wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you did for May. And everything you did for me. I know you don't like me much, and I don't blame you. It's okay. But I hope, all things considered, we can be friends.”

All things considered.
What the hell did that mean? “You want us to be friends?”

“Yeah.” He gnawed at his upper lip, shook his head. “You're practically…family.” His face turned red when he said that. “I know it won't be easy, because of the past and everything, but I'd like us to get along.”

It was odd, but in that moment, Ashley felt connected to Tim. He was still a weasel because weasels didn't change overnight, but he
was
trying, and that counted for something. A lot, actually. Everyone deserved a chance to correct mistakes and make a better life.

She gave Tim's hand a squeeze.

In the next second, a shiver ran up her spine, and she twisted around. Both Quinton and Denny stood on the other side of the table, and neither of them looked pleased.

Denny zeroed in on their locked hands, and Tim quickly shook her off.

Quinton looked less concerned with the familiar touch, but definitely rankled. “What did she do?”

Tim and Ashley said in unison, “What?”

“You're thanking her for all she did. What'd she do?”

“Oh.” Tim looked to Ashley for permission, but apparently decided he didn't need it. “She recognized Elton and his cronies having dinner at the restaurant. And even knowing who he was and how dangerous he could be, she listened to his conversation and heard enough to link Elton to the goons who beat me up. She called Jude, and he was able to confront Elton in the parking lot.”

Ashley watched Quinton, but he wasn't an easy man to read, not when he wanted his thoughts hidden.

“That's why he hates you?” He looked at her so intently that she could barely find her tongue. “That's why he called you?”

“He's a lunatic. How should I know what motivates him?” Hopefully she sounded more cavalier than she felt. “I don't think he ever knew about me. I mean, I sure as hell didn't tell him I squealed. It's possible he might've just confused me with May. Except for a difference in body shape, which has been noticeable the last couple of years, she and I do look alike. From a distance we can still fool people when we wear the same clothes.”