“I read the police report. I know I shouldn’t have but I charmed the secretary at the station into e-mailing me a copy.”
She turned away, stroking the bird’s shoulder. “Then you already know what he did to me.”
“Yeah, but I think it’d be better if you said. Spilled the poison.”
Alpie pressed tighter into her neck, her beak opening enough for me to see her beige tongue. Not normal, that. I suppressed a shudder.
“I said I don’t want to talk about that. Not with my therapist. Not with Noelle. Definitely not with you.”
Fine then. She didn’t trust me. Probably best because I’d lied to her. There was no secretary. No one gave me the documents but I had managed to talk some of the details out of the detective. Bollocks! The police.
I hustled toward the front door when a hard pounding filled the room. I checked the peephole, thankful to see Officer Reim’s face instead of Jordan’s. The bastard was arrogant enough to stand outside Mila’s window; I reckoned he’d be the type of bloke to waltz up to her door and force his way in.
“We didn’t get him,” Officer Reims said as soon as I opened the door. He strode in and locked the door behind him. “Can’t be too cautious. Especially right now. I called in backup.” Sirens blared, seeming to come from all sides. “Jessup and I hoofed it as far as we could after the car, called in the description and partial license plate. Hopefully, now we can do more with our APB.” He let out a shuddering breath, wiped the sweat from his brow. “Wanted to get back and let you know the deets now that patrol cars are pouring in.”
“What do you mean you didn’t get him?” I asked.
“He disappeared. We think into a car at the intersection.”
“So he has an accomplice?” I asked.
“Or he just freaked the hell out of someone by jumping in their car.”
“He’s carrying a knife. A bush knife,” Mila said. The bird stopped shushing but continued to sit on her shoulder.
Officer Reims pulled out his notebook, pen poised over the page. “And that would be?”
“A big-bladed knife, mate,” I said. “Like your switchblade but it doesn’t fold in.”
“He carries the Ka-Bar Becker,” Mila said. “It’s got the longest blade.”
“And you know this how?” Officer Reims asked.
“He told me. Probably to scare me.”
“When?”
She shrank back smaller into the couch and Alpie hopped up on the cushion next to her head, lifting one talon then the other in a pseudo-dance. I hated how small and unhappy she appeared. “When he parked out front of Susan Etsam’s house and threatened her, Murphy, and Jake if I continued to see them.”
“You never told me that,” I said.
“That’s because I broke up with you right after that.”
“Erm, folks. I don’t need to hear more about your disagreements, but I will say that the media’s gotten wind of this. They have video from Jordan’s attack last night at the Tractor Tavern—from one of the attendee’s phones, no doubt—and they learned you both were at the station today, as well as Jordan’s subsequent attack on Ms. Markham. The journalists will be knocking down the door here soon. And since Jordan Jones knows where you are, Ms. Trask, it might not be such a bad thing to consider relocating.”
Mila’s eyes widened and she clutched her fingers into her silk blouse. “Where?”
He shrugged. “A hotel. Someplace with good security. We don’t have the means to do more than offer support and run the investigation.”
“I can do that,” I said, considering. “My personal security and manager are sending over more bodyguards to be Mila’s security team. I hoped they could be stationed here, but if you think it’s better to move again, I can make that happen.”
“Has he made any demands? Do we know what he wants?” she asked.
I gripped her hand as I sat next to her on the soft couch. Mila liked homey things. Perhaps because she never owned them. While our shabby furniture had embarrassed me, Mila had delighted in the well-wornness of my mum’s house. Mila would make an amazing mum, reveling in the dirty footprints on her pristine floors and gooey handprints on the fridge.
She’d already have that if I hadn’t screwed up. Noelle said she couldn’t have kids, which wasn’t right. Instead, she had a bloody bird. Jake told me once parrots could live sixty years or more. The shudder at the base of my spine rippled over me. I didn’t like birds much, not since the one dive-bombed my head in elementary school. Mila knew this, which was probably why she ended up with one.
“He wants you, Mila.” The words sounded harsh.
“Yeah, that’s the demand,” Officer Reims said. “Came through your friend this morning.”
“He won’t go away.” She didn’t ask. The words were flat, a statement.
“Did he ever hit you?” My voice turned gentle like you’d talk to a scared pup. I figured it was as close as I could get to outright asking about Jordan’s actions now that Mila said she wouldn’t discuss them.
“He liked to grab me, force me to sit with him. Touch me in ways I wasn’t comfortable with.” Her cheeks fluctuated between milk-white and rose, but her voice held steady. She didn’t turn toward me, kept her focus singularly on the officer. Alpie fluttered down and settled in her lap. “My mum said he’d scared off all my potential boyfriends. She chuckled about my protective uncle. I didn’t ask more questions then.”
“Men who are physically abusive are more likely to stalk, and the longer they stalk their victims the more likely they are to sexually assault them.” Officer Reims directed his comment to me.
Mila sat up straight, hands clamped together in her lap. “He didn’t rape me. I mean, he wanted to . . .” Her cheeks flamed, and she pressed her lips together into a thin line.
Some of the tension faded from my shoulders at her words. I’d worried—no—I’d been sure that’s what happened when Jordan attacked her.
“He told the Perth PD he couldn’t stop the car,” Officer Reims said.
She dropped her gaze, her jaw tense. “That’s how I lost the baby. Well, sort of. More the shock from all the broken bones. And blood loss.”
“You never pressed formal charges, said it was an accident,” Officer Reims said.
Mila’s jaw tensed. “That’s not true. I never said it was an accident.” She hesitated, her eyes flitting to mine. “But I didn’t follow up with the officer. Didn’t see much point since Jordan kept getting away with hurting people. I just . . . I just wanted to get away. From all of it.”
I shot off the couch. I didn’t know how to deal with that. What was I supposed to say? How could I comfort her? “We’re going to a hotel. Should have earlier.”
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.”
&nb
sp; 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. Pain
killers 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.”
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