She made a disgusted sound before wrapping her arms tighter around her waist. Not the way to handle the situ, mate. Right. What was I supposed to do now? Reaching out wasn’t something I was used to, but I didn’t like the strain between Mila and me. It was making me yobbo as a stepped-on taipan. Mean bastards, those snakes.
“He almost killed you.” I swallowed. Hard. “He did kill our baby.” Officer Reims shifted behind us, probably uncomfortable with our little display. The man held a small fortune worth of my dirt, and I’d probably regret being this open. But I needed Mila to agree. “Don’t get in a guff over this. Let me protect you. The police are looking. Hell, if the media’s in on it, Jordan’s face has been posted on every news report from here to Darwin and back, not to mention the million social media accounts.”
“I’ll give you a moment,” Officer Reims said, beating a strategic retreat. Smart bloke. I liked him and would be sure to tell his boss so.
She searched my eyes like she used to. I worried the small ring in my lip as I waited, knowing she’d break my heart into dust specks this go-round. Hell, she already was and she wasn’t even trying.
“I don’t like you spending the money on me.”
“That’s ridiculous. I made it, in part because of you.”
She dropped her gaze. “I hate that song.”
Too right she did. Wasn’t my fave before today and the lyrics were falling fast into the rubbish bin.
“So we’re sorted,” I said. “We’ll go to the hotel—”
“That I’ll pay for,” Mila snapped.
No, she bloody well wouldn’t, but I’d let her think she could if it would get her out of her house and into a place with better security. A place Jordan couldn’t hurt her again.
“Collect your stuff,” I said. I eyed the bird, hoping Mila wouldn’t insist on her “pet” coming with us.
13
Mila
I hated packing up my belongings. I pulled out a small suitcase I’d tucked away when I moved in here four months ago—and had planned not to use again for a good long while. Like most of my belongings, it was new. Too new, a showcase of everything I’d left behind in Australia.
“We’ll take my rental car. I’ll get a new one sent over to our hotel.”
“Won’t the media know where you are? They always know where you are.”
He gripped my free hand. My other one wound tightly in Alpie’s carrier. “Don’t worry. First call I made when I realized Jordan was in Seattle was to my manager, and he’s working even now to send over some bodyguards. If we have to change hotels, then we’ll change. Seattle has plenty. I’ll get your luggage. Why don’t you check around? Make sure there’s nothing you’ve forgotten.”
I walked through each of the rooms, touching an item here and there, hating that this moment felt like a goodbye. I grabbed the small photo album from the bottom shelf of my coffee table. It held a few snapshots from my years in Australia, including the only picture where you could tell I was pregnant. I dropped it into my purse. Alpie shushed me.
“Ready?” Murphy asked.
No, I wasn’t but I didn’t have much of a choice. I hitched my purse up my shoulder, gripped Alpie’s cage tighter and walked toward the door.
“I know this is hard on you, Mila.”
I nodded.
“We’ll get through this.”
“Do you think it’d be better if we split up? I mean, you’re pretty well-known, and if the media find you, Jordan can find me.” And hurt you. I didn’t say the words, and I tried to ignore the anger, which was quickly stifled by hurt, building in his eyes.
“Is that what you want? For me to walk away?”
I should. Murphy didn’t understand he’d been my lifeline this past year. Remembering our time together was the only reason I managed to keep going. Now we were changing those memories. They’d be overlaid with the bitterness of lies and the pain of loss. When Murphy left this time, my heart would break deeper because it never healed properly from last time.
He stepped closer, his fingers trailing across my cheek. My lids closed and my breath shivered passed my lips.
“Let me help. Please.”
Much as I tried not to, I pressed my face into his hand and he cupped my cheek, his fingers tangling in my hair. It was shorter than I’d worn it when we were together, opting for a professional cut with a few flirty layers around my face.
“Mila, tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Yes, I’ll go with you.” Then because we both deserved to hear the words, I said, “I—I’ve missed you, Murphy.”
His lips pressed against my forehead and tears pressed hard against my lids. I sniffled, wanting to pull back but not wanting to lose the comfort of his embrace. Of his warmth. Alpie screeched and fluttered in her cage. In the end, Murphy stepped away.
“Let’s get you settled.” The gruffness in his voice was a balm over my tortured nerve endings.
I glanced around my living room. Neat, orderly, the kind of space I’d always wanted to live in. My two couches were made of chenille—soft and cozy. I loved to curl up on them to read during the long, dark months of Seattle’s winter. I even learned how to knit with Noelle’s help, and one of the throws I’d made draped over the back, just begging to be pulled into one’s lap.
I wanted to stay here, defend my little house and the world I’d created. I took a deep breath and walked out onto the porch. Whatever happened, Jordan didn’t get the satisfaction of beating me down.
“We’re at Hotel 1000. Security’s better at these high-end places. And they have Zipcars so if we need to go out, it’ll be easy to remain anonymous.” Murphy sucked on his lip ring, clearly nervous about my reaction. “They okayed your bird, seeing as how the situation is extreme.”
I settled Alpie’s cage in the back seat as she fluttered and squawked. Travel wasn’t her favorite past time. “Okay.”
“I talked to Jake,” he said. “He’s worried about you.”
“That’s nice of him.”
We were silent—even Alpie—until we parked the car. Murphy insisted on carting my luggage himself, and we were whisked through the check in process. No one batted an eye at my bird carrier, much to my relief. Alpie, for her part, stayed quiet.
“Which room do you want?” I asked, sliding the bolt on the door with a grim satisfaction. Murphy’s manager booked us a two-room suite that would probably drain my savings in a matter of days, but I’d worry about that later. Fatigue shivered through my limbs, thanks to the emotional drain on top of a mostly sleepless night and the fright of Jordan’s reappearance outside my window earlier today.
I set Alpie’s carrier on the coffee table and inspected the tall bird cage in the corner. It was three times the size of Alpie’s normal cage, but then I usually let her roam the house. In this posh space, she’d need to be enclosed—not something she was going to like. But to my surprise, Alpie waddled into the new cage without any fuss.
“Fu-‘atoo,” she said, her voice soft, like a coo, as she settled on the sturdy tree branch. “Shh. Love-oo.”
“You choose the room you prefer.” Murphy slid onto the couch, one eye on me, the other starting to slide closed until it snapped wide open again. “Kevin’s walked the suite and settled into his room next door. Oh, hell, they have a piano.” He grimaced. “I’m going to need to talk to Hayden again. Soon.”
“We’re both tuckered. We should call it a night,” I suggested. I looked around for the night shading that let Alpie know to be quiet.
“You gotta eat something, Mila. Far as I know, you haven’t eaten all day. I bet you aren’t eating much at all.”
I sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll wait till tomorrow.”
“You will not,” Murphy said, his need to protect flaming to the surface. My stubbornness reared forth, delighting in the opportunity to turn my fear into anger. But arguing was a form of passion best removed from my time with Murphy. He used to kiss the arguments from my lips, turning that burning need to
win into an inferno of desire. For him.
Not a place I should go. I crossed my arms over my chest, using them as a shield to my heart. “Then order me whatever you’re having. I’m off to a bath.”
Murphy’s eyes flared at the mention, and I could have kicked myself. Wet. Naked. Skin-to-skin. Just what I didn’t need to be considering. Especially now that I was essentially Murphy’s only companion in an elegant suite.
“Fu-a’too,” Alpie growled in an excellent imitation of Murphy’s voice.
“You are that,” Murphy replied.
I scampered into my room, dragging my suitcase in haphazard patterns behind me, managing to miss the sofa by inches before I was within the solitary confines of my new living space. I shut the door and pulled in a ragged breath.
The large bed invited me to flop across it but I resisted the urge. I trudged passed it and took my toiletries into the bathroom. Turning on the taps, I pulled out my phone.
“I’m in a hotel suite with Murphy, and I’m pretty sure it’s all your fault,” I said in lieu of a greeting.
“Hey, Mil. How are you feeling?” Noelle asked.
“I should be asking you. Wrist any better? No more stalker sightings, right? Where are you staying tonight?”
“My wrist is fine. Painkillers are keeping the swelling down. I did light duty today, which was awesome because Blanche did the heavy lifting.” Noelle chuckled. Blanche, a fifty-six-year-old harridan, used intimidation to get the other nurses to do her bidding. She ruled her hospital ward, but Noelle ignored her jibes and the worst of the assignments, performing so well under pressure she’d managed to knock Blanche off her pedestal and back down into the nursing pool.
“That’s good, then.”
“It is. She was tired so she couldn’t give the rest of us as much hell. I think my wrist is going to be hurting for a few weeks. And, no, no more Jordan sightings. I’m staying at Kent’s tonight.”
Kent was a surgeon Noelle dated off and on. With their busy schedules, neither of them claimed enough time for a normal relationship, but Noelle mentioned him consistently for months.
“Hang on.” I set the phone down and stripped out. I settled into the hot water, a murmur of pleasure building up my throat.
“I’m back. Are you sleeping with him?”
“Of course, sweetie. Where’s the fun in a pseudo-relationship without the special sauce? That’s all we are—a way to pass time. So Kent better bring his A game.”
Her voice quavered just a bit. Turning thirty a few months ago hit Noelle hard. She went from loving her job and her crazy schedule to analyzing how everything she did would work with a child. She’d been bitten so hard with the baby bug, she’d dragged me into those baby boutiques and bought things she didn’t need. I put my foot down the last time she insisted I go with her, telling her I couldn’t go into another. Not with my history. While Noelle stopped talking about her need to settle down, those types of deep-seated desires didn’t simply vanish.
“Is he worth your smexy moves?” I asked, hoping to distract her from her careening thoughts. Boy, did I know all about might-have-been scenarios. So not healthy.
“He’s great, Mil. In fact, he’s just finished making me dinner. Making it! He poured me a glass of wine to bring out on his porch while I talked to you.”
“Then why isn’t he more than a good tumble?”
“This is about you and the fact you’re locked away in a gorgeous hotel suite with Mr. Famous Rock Star. It’s avoidance. I can tell.”
I toed off the tap and leaned back, staring up at the coved ceiling. “He’ll break my heart all over again, Noelle. It’s not mended from the last time.”
“So give him a reason to stay.”
“Why would he want me when he could have—and has had—any other woman in the world?”
“He doesn’t do brunettes, Mila. I double-checked on my break earlier this afternoon. He’s never been photographed with one.” She paused to let those words sink in. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest. Yep, my heart pattered faster than a sprinter’s. “He called me, trying to pry out details he didn’t want to ask you. He cares about you.”
“As he would any woman from his past.”
“As he would his first love. I found the stupid photo that started this mess. Great gooey goodness, Murphy can smolder.” Noelle sighed. “I mean, the way that man eyed you is hot. So don’t throw away this chance before you see where it could go.”
“That’s the trouble. It can’t go anywhere, and I don’t want it to.”
“You are the worst liar.”
Murphy knocked on the bedroom door. “Room service just left.”
“Did I just hear him say room service?” Noelle asked. “Let him wine and dine you. I’ll do the same here. Who knows? Tonight could be the romance we both deserve.”
“Night, Noelle.”
“Night. Call you tomorrow. And, shug?” she said, her voice lowering.
“What?”
“Stay safe.”
“You, too.”
I hung up and tossed my phone onto the counter before ducking my head under the water. I held my breath for fifteen, then popped up.
“Mila?”
Murphy’s voice grew more insistent, almost worried.
“Be right there.”
I clambered out, pulling the plug. I wrapped my head in a large, fluffy towel and then my body in another. I didn’t like hotel robes; I didn’t trust them to be clean. A weird affectation of staying so long—and working—in a hospital, I supposed.
I scrambled into some pajamas and combed my hair, straightening the bathroom. All avoidance techniques. With Murphy right there, on the other side of the door, I was afraid I’d forget myself and touch him. Want him to touch me.
Noelle didn’t understand. While Jordan wanted to own my body—through brute force that would leave me bloody and broken—Murphy wanted to get back that sweet innocent love we’d shared. But we’d both changed so much. Sure, I still loved him, but could he possibly still love me? Would it be possible to pick up the tattered bits of our former relationship and make a go at it again?
Would he even want to?
14
Murphy
I paced the living area, hoping the motion would keep me awake. The adrenaline of the day’s revelations faded and the restless night caught up with me. I was bone tired and not much good for conversation.
But Mila needed to eat. During the years we dated, she tended to skip meals, especially when busy or worried. Now, though, she wasn’t much more than a waif. I didn’t like her so fragile. My Mila was robust. Full of love and fire.
I might never see that woman again. I rubbed my hands over my tired eyes before staring out the large windows at the twinkling lights. They were hypnotic, soothing.
I pressed my forehead against the glass, wanting nothing more than to give in to my need to hold her close as I slept. I hadn’t wanted that for months—more than a year. But the urge, now, was overwhelming. Even stronger than my need to rail at her for destroying our relationship.
Mila’s door opened and she padded out of her room. Catching her reflection in the mirror, I gulped. Her hair fell in wet, messy waves around her face, now devoid of makeup. Her small toes peeped out of her flannel pajama bottoms while the cotton tee hugged her ribs and breasts. Mmm, she might be thin, but she was mouthwatering.
“Why didn’t you start eating?” she asked.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” I turned toward her, swallowing a groan. Clean and soft, ready to pull into my arms and cuddle into sleep. I missed how she’d curled up into my side, her head on my shoulder, a hand flattened on my chest. I’d loved pulling her closer, even during slumber.
“Crab cakes!” She exclaimed. “They’re my favorite.”
I blinked away the fantasy, focusing instead on the food in front of us. She’d always moan and sigh when she ate crab cakes. The biggest turn-on in the world. Probably not the best choice for my continued comf
ort, but she settled at the table, her face lighting with the simple joy of a good meal. I missed seeing that, too.
I took the seat next to hers, ignoring her stiffening shoulders, and reached for another plate. Some local fish, deep-fried, with coleslaw. Not the Aussie way, but still delicious. Hot and fresh. My stomach gurgled its appreciation. We ate in silence. At least this one was companionable.
“Thank you for ordering,” Mila said after she swallowed the last of her bite. “I was hungry.” She stood up and carried some dry greens over to the bird’s cage, dropping them in as Alpie bobbed her head, saying, “Thank-oo. Thank-oo.”
Polite bugger.
“Me, too. Been a long day, though.”
“It has.”
“Right.”
We stared at each other. I should get up and walk to my bedroom. Shut the door and go to sleep.
“I want to know what happened, Mila. The whole story.”
Her eyelids slid down over her eyes, and she heaved a breath. She pushed her plate back farther. “There isn’t much more to tell.”
“Don’t.” My tone turned sharp. “Don’t block me out of this. I deserve to know.”
Her mouth settled in that tight, angry line, but her gaze softened when she met mine. “All right.” She sighed, her brow pulling together.
“I was nineteen when I met Jordan. My mum’s mum married his father. He’s a few years younger than my mum and I guess they talked occasionally, I don’t know how it all came about, but he stopped over for dinner one night. He watched me the whole meal.” She shuddered, pushing back from the table. “I didn’t like him, but he left, and I went on with my life until he transferred to Sydney, or he moved there—I don’t know. Mum let him stay with us.”
I followed her with my eyes as she moved around the room. “He’d bring presents every day, trinkets really, fixed a leaky spot on the roof. Mum was over the moon to have his attention and help.”
Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3) Page 10
