She’d been emotionally exhausted from the conversation with her mom, emptied in a good way. All of the bitterness and anger she’d been carrying around her whole life had been shoved aside in the wake of her mom’s confessions and support. She wasn’t naive enough to think she’d never be angry again, that all the damage that had been done would disappear overnight just because of a nice conversation, but for the first time she’d felt the promise of healing.
It was no small thing.
She wanted to start fresh with Ronan and their child, wanted to start with love and openness instead of anger and cynicism. To do that, she would have to let go of all the old hurts.
Could she do it? The jury was still out, but she was hopeful.
She’d been halfway home when she was blindsided by Ronan’s call instructing her to park two miles from the house where he would be waiting in one of the Rovers to bring her home. He hadn’t wanted to tell her more, but she could hear the dread in his voice, knew that it was bad.
After all of the danger and death that had surrounded her since Elise’s kidnapping, she couldn’t wait to find out what was going on and had demanded he explain.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this: that MIS had been outed in much the same way they’d outed Yael Dohan and other members of Manifest, that the internet was abuzz with the story of brothers who had used their supposed investigative-firm-to-the-rich to mete out justice that included murder. There was even a hashtag: #murderforhire.
She’d pulled over to the side of the road, hands shaking as she looked up the breaking news story. It was all there: Nick and Thomas Murphy’s history with Boston P.D., Ronan’s background as a SEAL, the overdose of their younger sister, the older sister a former FBI agent.
Julia wasn’t mentioned and neither was Elise, but Julia knew it was only a matter of time. And even if they were never part of the story, Ronan and his brothers were in trouble, the family they’d been building in danger right at the time when Julia knew she would do anything to save it.
“Has anyone called Dad?” Declan asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. “He should know, if he doesn’t already.”
“I called him right after I talked to Julia,” Ronan said. “A handful of press was already camped out in the front yard. I suggested he come here but he refused. Said he wasn’t going to let the vultures drive him from his home but that he had our backs.”
“What about Nora?” Nick asked.
“Talked to her too. She hasn’t seen any press on the West Coast, but that may only be a matter of time,” Ronan said.
“I guess there’s no point trying to get in touch with Finn?” Julia asked. The youngest Murphy brother had become a kind of urban legend in her mind, a nomad who hadn’t been home in over four years.
“Wouldn’t even know how to get ahold of him,” Nick said.
Ronan shifted on his feet. “I have an emergency email.”
“You have an…” Nick shook his head. “You’re just telling me this now?”
Ronan shrugged. “He gave it to me in confidence, told me only to use it in case of a real emergency. He also told me he wouldn’t be able to check it very often.”
“Why’d he give it you?” Declan asked.
Julia could hear the sibling rivalry creeping into the conversation, all the baggage and birth order and history coming into play when they had bigger fish to fry. She understood it — before Elise’s disappearance, she and Julia had been the same way — but they didn’t have time for it.
“I think you should email him,” Julia said, trying to get them back on track. “It probably won’t affect him, but there’s no point in letting him be ambushed by what’s happening.”
Ronan nodded and looked at Nick. “You’re sure the books are in order? And the taxes?”
“Everything’s in order,” Nick said. “They could send a financial forensics team through every record we have and not find a single thing out of place.”
Ronan sighed. “Good, because that might be what it comes down to.”
“What about your clients?” Elise asked. “Will they turn on you?”
It scared Julia that Ronan hesitated before answering.
“I don’t think so, but there are never any guarantees. Some of it depends on whether an investigation even gets off the ground.”
“What does the rest of it depend on?" Julia asked.
“Whether they have anything hanging over our clients, anything they can use to get the client to cut a deal,” Ronan said.
“Give them information about MIS in exchange for immunity for something else,” Julia said.
Ronan nodded. “We’ve always vetted our clients. We knew a compromised client could compromise us down the road. But there’s no crystal ball. We can’t know for sure whether there have been investigations pending but not made public.”
“But if no one talks, you’re in the clear, even if they look at your books and records?” Elise said.
“I think so,” Ronan said.
Julia didn’t like the sound of it, didn’t want to bank their future on so much uncertainty, but what else could they do but hunker down and wait?
She thought about the baby growing inside her.
Ronan’s baby.
She’d planned to tell him that night, her earlier fears calmed by her conversation with her mom. She’d thought he would be happy, but that was before the press had camped out in front of MIS, before they’d realized their deepest, darkest secret had been let loose for the world to read about.
Now the future seemed uncertain all over again. She couldn’t help wondering if they would ever be clear of it all, if they’d been up against a string of bad luck or if the universe was trying to tell them something they didn’t want to hear.
35
Ronan pushed through the crowd of reporters in front of the office, Nick swallowed by the press as he made his own way to the building’s glass doors. The amount of press had thinned since the day before when they’d chased Ronan to the parking garage, but there were still enough of them to make it clear the nightmare was far from over.
He reached the entrance to the building a few steps behind Nick and they both ducked inside, grateful for Morris, one of the security guards, and his intervention in locking the door behind them.
“You all right, Mr. Murphy?” he asked Ronan.
“We’re fine, Morris. Thanks.”
“Jesus,” Nick said when the elevator doors closed and they were on their way to the fifth floor. “How long do you think they’re going to be out there?”
“Depends on what the AG does with the allegations. If they don’t have enough evidence to launch an investigation, the press will get bored in a few days.”
“And if they do launch an investigation?” Nick asked.
“Then this might just be our new normal,” Ronan said.
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.
“We can’t do business this way,” Nick said, starting through the lobby.
“I think it’s safe to say we’re grounded for the foreseeable future.”
Reilly was at the front desk, his expression as blank as ever, no indication that it was anything other than an ordinary day. He handed them a stack of messages as they passed.
“I’m going to check in with Walter again,” Nick said, heading for his office.
Walter Fields was their lawyer. Nick had been on the phone with him for an hour the day before when the story first broke, setting up contingencies for every possible scenario, including the one where the cops appeared at the house and took Ronan, Nick, and Declan into custody for a perp walk in cuffs.
“I’ll be in my office,” Ronan said. “Let me know if there’s anything new.”
He crossed his office to the glass doors facing the water and opened one of them a crack. The briny scent of the sea flooded the room and he immediately felt calmer. It was cold out, but he’d been stuck in the house the day before and was desperate f
or some fresh air.
He dropped into the chair behind his desk with a sigh, then dug in his pocket for the faded blue box. He’d hardly slept the night before, not because of the trouble they were in with MIS but because of what that trouble meant for him and Julia.
He wanted her in his life. Wanted her as his wife.
But not like this.
What if he was tied up in investigations and court cases for the next five years? What if he went to prison, all his verifiable assets seized? There were the offshore accounts, and all the property Nick had brought had been funneled through shell companies that would be next to impossible to trace back to MIS.
But to make use of any of it, Julia would have to run. She would have to hide.
She deserved better.
He opened the box and looked at the ring. He’d listened to his father and had it cleaned and sized, had been ready to propose when all hell had broken loose.
Now it didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem fair.
And he didn’t even know if she would say yes. After everything that had happened over the past year, everything she and Elise had been through, it was possible she wouldn’t want the only kind of life he had to offer: one where the press lurked outside waiting to snap a picture, where they stalked Julia’s home, dug through her past.
The thought of letting her go was like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t there yet, wasn’t ready to watch her walk out of his life, but neither could he ask her to marry him, to commit her future to him.
Not like this.
He closed the box and stuffed it back in his pocket. He’d been foolish to think it would be that easy. To think that someone like him would ever be allowed to have happiness with someone like her.
36
Julia moved methodically around the house, washing dishes, wiping down counters, and doing laundry. She was a bundle of nervous energy, all too aware of the press that had been staking out the Murphy house for the past two days.
After a brief taste of freedom, she was back to being under house arrest, as was Elise. Ronan and Nick had been going to the office, press be damned, but even Declan had been staying close to home, his late night-forays into the city curtailed by his new notoriety.
Ronan had seemed increasingly morose. Now she was the one who woke up in the middle of the night to find him gone, at the kitchen island staring into space, and once on the patio, so cold his skin had been like ice when she found him.
He’d assured her that they were covered if the Massachusetts Attorney General initiated an investigation, but she knew it wasn’t a slam dunk. If the AG chose to pursue a case, there would be investigations and subpoenas. MIS was in jeopardy, the company’s work at a standstill until further notice, but at least money wasn’t an issue. She knew Nick had been careful about investing, knew there were even properties they could flee to if it came to that.
The idea had caught her by surprise when she’d first thought about it. Would she run? Leave behind her mom, Elise, and everything she knew to disappear with Ronan to some country that didn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.?
She hadn’t even had to think about it: the answer was yes. It had always been yes.
She would follow him anywhere, under any circumstances.
She piled dirty laundry from the hamper into the laundry basket on the bed. She considered going into the bathroom where Ronan was showering for the dirty towels, then decided to wait.
He’d looked exhausted when he’d come home from the office, his face drawn, and she’d ran him a hot shower and promised to make him dinner — not takeout, a real dinner — when he was done.
He’d taken such good care of her when she’d been rocked by her gramps’ death. It felt good to return the favor. The timing still wasn’t right to tell him about the baby, but she could be there for him, could take care of him like he’d taken care of her.
The floor was clear, the hamper empty, when she finished piling clothes into the basket. She spotted Ronan’s jacket hung over a chair and reached to grab it. He wore it constantly now that it was getting colder, and she knew for a fact she’d never washed it.
She picked it up to throw it in the laundry basket, then felt the weight of something in his pocket.
Keys, probably.
She reached inside, expecting to feel cold metal and jagged edges. Instead her hand closed around a small box.
She removed it from the pocket, her breath catching in her throat when she realized it was a velvet box, the kind you got when you bought something at a jeweler, except this one looked worn and faded.
She hesitated, wanting to open it and knowing she couldn’t. She would put it back in Ronan’s pocket, leave the jacket where she found it, pretend she’d never seen it, put it out of her mind.
“I was going to give it to you.” She turned to find Ronan staring at her, a towel tied around his waist, his chest bare, hair wet from the shower. “Before the shit hit the fan.”
She looked down at it. “I wasn’t going to look.”
“You should.” He sighed. “You should look.”
There was something guarded in his voice, something that cracked her heart in two.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He nodded.
She returned her attention to the box and slowly lifted the lid. When she caught sight of the ring, her free hand flew to her mouth. Tears stung her eyes, her throat clogged with emotion.
When she looked up, he was right there, close enough to touch.
“Everything’s a mess, and god knows you deserve better, but I love you, Julia, and goddamn I want you to be my wife.” He reached out to touch her face. “I won’t blame you if you say no, but I —”
“Yes.” The word was out of her mouth before she had time to think, before he had time to change his mind.
She didn’t care that everything was a mess. She didn’t care about anything except the family she was already building with this man.
“I can’t promise you anything right now except that you’ll always be taken care of. I don’t know what will happen with the press or with MIS or if charges will be brought against us. You should know all of that before you answer.”
“I know. I already knew,” she said. “The answer is still yes. It’s always been yes.”
He held her face between his hands. “Are you sure it’s — ”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.
He blinked in surprise. “You’re…”
She nodded. “About eight weeks. I was trying to find a good time to tell you and then… well, you know.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”
She chewed her lip. “Are you… are you okay with it?”
“Am I…” He lowered his mouth to kiss her, long and slow, the entire universe in his kiss: their past, present, and future. He looked into her eyes, still holding her face in his hands. “My life is falling apart. My business will probably be under investigation, my assets may be frozen. Hell, I might be arrested.” He laughed. “And I don’t give a fuck about any of it because we’re going to have a baby, and you’re going to be my wife.”
She tightened her arms around him and he laughed, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around before setting her down.
“A baby?” he said, grinning.
She couldn’t contain her smile. “A baby.”
Yael Dohan’s face flashed in front of her eyes, the locked doors on board the Elysium, the blue door that was Manifest.
She didn’t know if she could forget. Didn’t know if she could give up her thoughts of revenge. Didn’t know if she could sit back and let justice run its course, come what may.
But she would try. For this man, for their child, for their future, she would try.
37
Ronan’s feet touched the ocean’s sandy bottom and he straightened and waded toward shore. He scanned the beach and was unsurprised to find it empty. He’d spent weeks preparing for the night’s mission, had rese
arched everything from the private island’s topography to the position of the moon.
He was alone, but he was prepared.
Nick had wanted to come. Declan too. Ronan had convinced them both to stay put in Boston, keeping an eye on Julia and Elise and the house, keeping up appearances at MIS. If the mission was going to be a success, it wouldn’t be because they stormed the island in a blaze of gunfire.
It would succeed like this: Ronan anchoring a boat offshore, swimming alone to the beach, disappearing into the landscape, getting in and out with a minimum of fuss.
They couldn’t afford to draw attention to themselves, not with the Attorney General sniffing around MIS, conducting interviews with former clients and associates of the company.
One of the Murphy brothers could take a trip to visit an old friend in the Bahamas.
All of them? Too risky.
Ronan ducked down behind a sand dune when he spotted the glint of lights through the palm trees that lined the beach. He removed his binoculars from the waterproof pouch tied to his torso and aimed them at the house, cataloging the details of the building, lining up entrances and exits with the plans he’d reviewed beforehand, timing the schedule of the guards patrolling the grounds.
His brain was on autopilot, sorting information and filing it away for later, and he had a flash of Julia’s face, wondered what she was doing at that very moment.
He hadn’t told her where he was going. He’d felt bad keeping it from her, but not bad enough to tell her. She’d been through enough, had suffered enough. Now that she’d made it through the first trimester, the morning sickness finally passed, he wanted nothing but for her to feel safe and enjoy planning their wedding.
She hadn’t mentioned Manifest since the night she’d agreed to marry him, the night she’d told him about their baby. Several of Manifest’s leadership had cut deals, exchanging lesser sentences for information that would almost certainly convict the people at the top. Yael Dohan had resigned from the Federal Reserve, his wife had filed for divorce and full custody of their children, and rumors were Dohan had retreated to his private island, albeit with an ankle bracelet that kept him under house arrest until he went to trial.
Murphy’s Love: Murphy’s Law Book Three Page 14
