My hands clenched into fists. Mila was so bloody smart. I’d bet my left nut she’d been trying to give me information. To tell me why, and I didn’t understand.
“Sounds like,” Jake said.
“From what Mum said, turns out she ran away to protect me. And if I’m right, she tried to tell me why that night but I was too stupid to understand.”
“So now you’re angry with her about that, too?”
“Hell, yes, I’m angry. She didn’t trust me to take care of her.” I rolled my head, but the tension in my neck and shoulders increased.
“Do you think . . . was Mum’s attack related to her leaving?” Jake asked.
My throat burned from the acid building in my stomach. “Timing’s about right.”
Jake nodded as Ben pulled into the hotel’s parking garage. I shot out from the car, heading toward the elevator. I opened my hotel room and toed off my boots at the door, planning to toss the sand-crusted and water-logged mess in the bin later.
I padded through the suite in my bare feet, thankful my mum stayed out of sight for the time being. Turning on the bath water, I turned toward the mirror and gasped, jumping back in horror. A half dead bag of roadkill was more attractive than me. My eyes were redder than the crimson tides. Peeling off my sand-caked jeans and shirt, I stepped into the shower, clenched my teeth, and pressed my face into the hot stream of cleansing, pounding spray.
I left the shower cleaner but more drained than ever. I wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Pulling on some boxers, I slumped against the sink’s edge. I was tired. No, worse. I was sick at heart. I pulled on some clothes and went in search of more caffeine.
Mum puttered about the dining space, pulling some muffins out of a paper sack. So she’d been downstairs to purchase muffins. Great woman, my mum.
“Coffee’s in the mug there, Murphy. I’ll get you a muffin before we talk more.”
Mum fretted and clucked her way around the suite while I sipped the coffee she’d made me. Little kindnesses like this, these were the details that made life richer and—dare I say it?—happier. No one on the road cared to do more than shove a water or beer bottle in my hand. But Mum here, she’d doctored my coffee with cream and sugar, and she’d found my favorite muffins.
I’m sure she’d gotten Jake’s, too. I liked blueberry and Jake always preferred banana nut. Even when money was so tight we weren’t sure we’d keep the house, Mum managed to make us muffins every Sunday.
I pulled her into my side for a cuddle and kissed the top of her head. She glanced up at me, somewhere between exasperated and loving. Pretty much her standard expression for me these days.
“Thanks, Mum. For the effort.”
She patted my chest. “Now, none of that. Just drink up so you’re not angrier than a Tasmanian devil when I tell you the rest of what I know. Well, more show you.”
With a groan I tipped the mug to my mouth and gulped down the rest of the coffee. Not that it would help so much.
She pulled out her smartphone and pressed a few buttons. She flattened the case to her chest so I couldn’t see the screen. “I went to visit Rosemary Jones. I told you that. What I didn’t tell you was I videoed our conversation. In case you needed proof.” She raised her eyebrows.
Everything in me stilled. I met her eyes, calm even as anger and hurt bubbled up into my chest.
“Bloody hell.”
“Murphy!”
“You knew she was leaving!” I stood so fast, the chair shot out behind me, falling over.
“Oi!” Jake said from the door. “Why are you yelling at Mum?”
I pointed a shaking finger at my mother, the traitor. “She helped Mila leave.” Of course. Mum’s job at the passport office would make her the perfect person for Mila to visit.
Mum had the decency to drop her eyes to the table. “It was only supposed to be for a short time. How was I supposed to know you’d give up on her like that?”
With those words, I deflated. I had given up on Mila. I never called her, never went to see her, never tried to find out from her—the woman I’d told I’d love forever—what happened. Why she’d left.
All this time . . . For more than a year, I’d operated under the sense I was the injured party. I stood, paced. I wanted to crack a tinnie or all twelve in the case. Nah. Beer wasn’t strong enough. I need a bottle of whiskey to drown out the pain ripping through my black bastard heart.
“Are you finally ready to listen to what Mila has to say?” Mum asked, giving me back the glare. “That girl’s been through a lot, and I won’t have you hurting her more.”
“I get that,” I gritted out. My jaw hurt from clamping it so tight. “I’m mad as a cut snake because where’s the loyalty, woman? I’m your bloody son!”
Mum’s cheeks were ruddier than usual and those gray curls bristled out over her head. “My son, who disappointed me, and more importantly, the woman he loves and who loved him back. I taught you better than that!”
“You should have told me,” I growled.
Mum drew herself up, quivering with indignation. “How was I supposed to know you’d be such a tosser?”
I opened my mouth but Jake’s quiet words stopped the spew of anger that might well have destroyed my relationship with my mum forever. I started, having forgotten he was in the room.
“Could you talk to the police? Here but also in Sydney and Perth, too. Get them to coordinate the information. The Sydney police brought Jordan in because he was out front of Mum’s house. The Perth police have Mila’s car accident on record even if she didn’t file charges, they have to write a report, right? And the police here have the assault last night on file. Kevin and Ben might be able to help you navigate the system.”
“Good call,” I said. I turned on my heel and stalked from the room.
Jake knocked as I shoved the last of my clothes back into my suitcase. Unpacking was a ridiculous exercise.
“You heading out then?”
“Yeah. We were supposed to check out an hour ago. I’ll book some place for tonight once I talk to Mila. Hear the whole story from her.”
“Good.”
I zipped the bag and turned to him. “Did you know Mum helped her leave the country?”
Jake shook his head. “No, mate. I knew what you did—that Mila left. I saw how much you were hurting. I would’ve told you. She was important to me, too.”
Mila had been a part of our family. Until she wasn’t. I’d never considered he’d lost a sister as much as I’d lost my lover. I set the bag on the floor, satisfied.
Jake and I grew up just thirteen months apart, which made us closer than most, I reckoned. The loss of Logan, the baby brother we’d both wanted, unified us further.
“Aren’t you going to talk to Mum about her part?” Jake asked. I flicked my eyes up, and Jake stepped back. “I take that as a no.”
“Nothing she says will help right now.” I slid my hands into my hair and dug my fingers into my scalp, my palms pressed to my eyes. “What if the bub had Mila’s eyes? Her smile? She’d be crawling, possibly walking. Talking, I think.”
That ate at me. What could have been. Of course I would’ve taken care of Mila and our baby. I would’ve quit the band and worked ten jobs to provide for her. This life of luxury, of constant high-profile dates, security guards and paparazzi, would be a pipedream I wouldn’t know to wish away. Much as I disliked some aspects of the fame, the financial perks outweighed the downside of being noticed wherever I went. But the price of wealth—losing Mila, our baby—that was too high.
“Would it help if I came with you to the police department? To see Mila?”
I dropped my hands and looked at my brother. Even after all the problems I stirred up this year, Jake wanted to help.
“I’m ’right, mate. You have your holidays.”
He swallowed hard. I waited. Jake handed me a paper with an American number in my mum’s sharp handwriting.
“This Mila’s number?”
“Probably,” J
ake said. “Mum told me what Jordan said to Mila after he mowed her down with the car in Perth. He said he’d kill Mila before she got back with you.”
“Well, isn’t that fantastic?”
“Reckoned you should tell the police here,” Jake said with a shrug.
“Will do.”
“Do police departments work together and share information?”
I scratched my chin. “From what the detective here said when I called in, the case is international. But he didn’t tell me if they have to go through a national agency here.”
“Like Interpol?” Jake asked.
“Don’t think the Yanks use Interpol. The FBI, CIA. At least, those are the names of the agencies in those crime dramas Mum likes to watch.” I smirked. “We never did get to know the inner workings of police departments.”
Jake grinned back. “Right-o. Mum would’ve killed us dead.”
I snorted. “I’ve called in a favor to fly you and Mum home. Private,” I said, patting my pockets to reconfirm my phone, wallet, and passport were where they should be. “Best pilot I could find. Decades of experience and heaps of credentials. Should help ease Mum’s worries. Flight leaves in a couple of hours. Ben’s going back with you. No arguments. Not now that we know Jordan is the one who threatened Mum and why.” I let him see the worry building in my eyes. “Kevin will stick with you until you’re on the flight. I want to know Mum’s safe. You’ll do that—keep Mum safe?—while I sort this mess here?”
“Course, Murphy. I’ll help any way I can.”
“Flip make it on to his flight?”
“Yep. Should be home tonight.”
“Let him know what’s happening, will you?”
Jake nodded. “Mum’s not going to handle to flight home well. She’s already tetchy.”
“She might not want to go, but I don’t want her in the same city as this Jordan bloke. He’s already threatened her. You, too.” I tugged at my eyebrow ring. “His hands on Mila last night . . . she’s tiny. He hurt her, Jake. That’s why she was so scared.”
Jake cleared his throat. “There’s something else you should know. That Mum told me.” Jake met my eyes, his uncertain. “Mum said Jordan found her from that picture of you in the paper.”
There’d only been one of Mila and me. We were in front of a jewelry store in Darling Harbor and I’d kissed the ring I slid onto her finger. My lowest moment, that, showing the world my feelings only to have them slapped back in my face.
I let the dig slide and stepped in so I could hug him. “Thanks, mate. Take care of Mum.”
Jake pounded my back, both of us teary-eyed.
“Kinda funny. I need to fix shit with two people, and they’re both here.”
“Fate is alive and well,” Jake said, a ghost of a smile sliding across his lips. “Good luck.”
“Who with?”
“You’re going to need it with both. Hayden’s royal angry, but I have a feeling Mila’s going to be harder to win over. Especially once Hayden hears the full story about Mila and you. That bloke has a heart softer than a fresh marshmallow.”
I picked up my bag and squared my shoulders. “If I hadn’t been such a wanker about her dumping me, Jordan wouldn’t have hurt her. She has every reason to hate me.”
“You reckon she does?”
I sucked in a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “Gonna find out.”
Jake put his hands on my shoulders. “Be careful. He’s dangerous, mate.”
I nodded, unable to speak around the lump growing in my throat. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for one last older-brother bear hug before I stepped back. “Right. I’ll be in touch.”
“Should I let Hayden know you’re sticking around?” Jake asked, his brows pulling down in a scowl. Because he didn’t like the situation with Hayden or because he didn’t want to be emotional? Hard to say.
I needed to apologize for being such a dickhead to my bandmate and to his girlfriend, who'd reminded me a bit too much of Mila. Not physically, but in her hold over Hayden. I didn’t want to see him go through the same hell I lived through, but instead of expressing any of those concerns, I hid behind a false bravado and torched every relationship that mattered to me. I ran my finger across the piercings in my eyebrow, considering my situation.
“No. I’ll handle that when I’m ready. Mila comes first.”
5
Mila
Noelle was gone before I woke the next morning. I’d huddled in my bed, too strung out to sleep. Or so I’d thought. Somehow I missed Noelle coming home last night. I’d awakened around 2:00 a.m. and tossed for hours, the images of Murphy’s disdain and Jordan’s lust-filled eyes chasing away my ability to relax.
I must have fallen back to sleep again because now it was after 8:00 a.m. I bounded to the shower and rushed through getting dressed. Even though traffic would be horrendous, I needed to drive home and feed Alpie. She was sure to be out of fresh fruit. That bird ate mango by the pound, but she wasn’t as keen on her kale and other leafy greens. Smart bird.
I’d finished drying my hair when someone knocked on the door. I grabbed my phone and my pepper spray. I edged to the door and glanced through the peephole. My moment of elation turned to dread. Not Jordan, but a uniformed officer stood there, rocking back on forth on his heels.
I opened the door, pepper spray positioned at my waist in case I needed it.
“Yes?”
“Mila Trask?”
“Yes?” I asked again, my heart thudding a frantic rhythm. Who knew I was here? Noelle, of course. And Maura. But a man? No way Noelle would tell, and I didn’t know many people in the city besides my two friends and the handful of people I worked with.
“I’m Officer Reims.” He held up his badge. My suspicion melted away. I remembered a similar experience, blurred by blood loss and pain. “Your friend, Noelle Markham, was accosted outside the building earlier this morning. She’s been taken to the emergency room. She asked us to escort you there after we go over some details of the assault.”
“Details of the assault? How can I help with that?”
“She said you knew the perpetrator.”
“Oh, God, no,” I whispered, the pepper spray falling to the ground as I clutched the door frame. “No.”
“Please, ma’am. Come with me.”
I breathed deeply and nodded. “I just need to get my purse. Where is she?”
“University. It was closest and she said she worked there. Should take an hour, maybe two, for our interview.”
I left the door open but still chained and found my purse. I checked my phone. Noelle had texted. At University. Please come with the officer. His name is Reims.
Relief swamped me, and I settled on the edge of the bed. Noelle mustn’t be too hurt. She also knew me well. I wanted to shut the door on the officer and hunker down in the safety of the condo; my suspicion ran deep.
After collecting my items, I met the officer, who still stood at the door, albeit with lessening patience. “Can we talk here?” I asked.
“We could if you want to invite me in. But if we do that, it’ll take longer for me to write up my report and get it to a detective who’ll investigate the case.”
“Why does the case have to go to a detective?”
“Because my job is to stop crimes as they’re happening. The detective’s job is to ensure the perpetrator of a previous crime is apprehended after the fact.”
“But you said you know who attacked Noelle. So what good am I?”
“You know Jordan Jones. The man who also assaulted you last night at the Tractor Tavern. I need you to give that statement, press formal charges. If you’d come with me to the station now, I’ll get one of the detectives to sit in while I get your statement.”
“But I’m not in trouble? I thought people were only brought to the police station when they’d done something illegal.”
Officer Reims crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you, Ms. Trask? Done something illegal.”
>
I shook my head.
“Then you have nothing to worry about and everything to gain by helping us find the man responsible.” He stepped back so I could lock the deadbolt and then he led me to his police car. I stared at it, nervous, but he opened the passenger door. He grabbed a black bag and what looked like a traffic ticket book. There was one of those traffic guns as well. Arms full, he tipped his head toward the now-clean seat.
“Didn’t figure you’d want to sit in the cage.”
“C-cage?” I asked.
“Back seat. Where we put suspects. But you’re not one, and I don’t think you’re going to shoot me.” He narrowed his eyes, his lips set in a stern line. “Don’t.”
Unsure how to handle this man, I settled in, ignoring my clammy palms.
After dropping his equipment into the trunk, Officer Reims settled into his seat, radioed his dispatcher, and started the vehicle. The ride to the police station took longer because of the building traffic, but we made it in relative quiet, Officer Reims asking if I was comfortable once before lapsing into silence.
“Do you know what happened to Noelle?” I asked.
“She was attacked.”
Not the loquacious type. I wrapped my hands around my phone, willing it to tell me more. It, too, remained silent.
“Oh! I need to let my boss now what’s going on. Do you mind if I make a call?”
Officer Reims frowned, his eyes darting toward me like I was insane. I took that as an affirmative. I told both Dr. Cahill and the staff coordinator Noelle was at the hospital and the police wanted me there, too.
I tucked my phone back into my purse as we pulled up in front of the building. I started to open the door, but Officer Reims, said, “Hold tight. I’ll escort you.”
I dropped my hand back to my lap and waited for him to lead me to the entrance. Together we walked into the modern glass-and-brick main campus building. My knees shook but I made it into the building and through a series of doors before Officer Reims settled me into a conference room that was more sterile than the one at my hospital. The long table gleamed in the fluorescent light, the weak sunshine a nonexistent light source.
Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3) Page 5
