Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  “You popped one in your mouth last night before I came to your room.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “I talked to Noelle,” he said.

  “What?” I cried. After another short attempt to disengage from his lap, I sat there stiffer than the queen of England on her throne. He waited. The bastard knew I hated these kinds of silences. Finally, I broke and raised my eyes.

  “Nuff!” Alpie cried, coming to land on my shoulder. Murphy pulled back but still kept his hand on my hip.

  Concern lit his eyes. He reached up and brushed my hair back from my forehead. Much as I wanted to lean back and not give him the satisfaction, I froze.

  “How long have you been doubling up?”

  My shoulders sagged. I couldn’t fight him, too. “Since I flew to Perth five weeks ago.”

  “You did what?”

  “I went to Perth. To check on Kyle’s grave.”

  Murphy’s mouth opened. Shut. His eyes darkened.

  Too much of my limbs draped off him. This position worked so much better when I curled into him. But I couldn’t do that. We weren’t together. Not even close.

  Alpie jumped back onto the table, her attention caught on the small bowl of fresh fruit. “Ooh,” she said, waddling toward it. “Ooh. Yum. Shh. Yum.”

  “Why?”

  “To see my baby,” I snapped. “To tell him I missed him and wish him a happy one-year. Unfortunately for him, his birth date is also his death date. Made for a rather morbid experience.”

  Murphy’s eyes slid shut and he rested his forehead against my chest. Of their own volition, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. They were so tense. He hurt. I hated that I was the cause. My fingers itched for my pill bottle.

  “You had no right to take my pills, Murphy.”

  “Give me a mo’, love. I’m still processing our baby has a grave. You’d said it before but realizing it, knowing it’s there, hurts.”

  I fumbled in my pocket, pulled out my phone. I scrolled down until I found the picture. Handing it over, I studied Murphy’s face as he studied the picture.

  His lip ring was made of a dark metal and did nothing to detract from the sexiness of his firm lips. Murphy’s kisses were soft but his lip ring spoke of his edgier side.

  A tear spilled onto his cheek. Another quivered on the tip of his lashes of the other eye. This time I couldn’t fight the need to lean in and wipe them away.

  “The angel is lovely,” he murmured, his voice catching.

  “It is,” I whispered.

  “You’re right. Seeing his name . . . it makes it all more real.” He set my phone down on the table and buried his face into my neck. “Bloody fucking hell, Mila. I don’t want him to be gone.”

  The sting in my eyes was too much. My own tears spilled over. We held each other for a long time. I rubbed my hands over Murphy’s hair and neck, and he clutched my back, pressing me tighter to his chest.

  This is what I’d missed. What I needed when I lay alone in the hospital.

  “You wanted to know how long I’ve been abusing the Xanax?” I sighed. “Probably from the beginning. It helps me function. Keeps the sadness at bay.”

  Murphy nodded against my neck. “I get that,” he said, pulling back. “But you can’t keep taking more, Mila. You’ve got to cut back. Preferably cut it out.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Because it’s that simple. My life’s an absolute mess.”

  He cupped my cheeks, thumbs swiping away the last remnants of my tears. “Doesn’t have to be. I’m here to help.”

  “For how long?” I exhaled a harsh breath and dropped my gaze. The words needed to be said. Murphy’s life—a big one—didn’t involve me. I couldn’t go back to Sydney. Any of Australia. I’d said my final goodbyes to my birth country on that last plane ride.

  Murphy blew out a breath. “Too right. I’m . . . I’m hurt, Mil,” he said. “Angry you didn’t trust me.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Murphy covered it with his hand. “How about this? Let’s start with breakfast.” He glanced at the table, lip curling in disgust when Alpie dipped her head and broke off another chunk of melon. “What your bird didn’t touch anyway. Then we can strategize with what to do next.”

  “I have patients I need to see, Murphy.”

  “Not this week. Hopefully not for a few days.” He backpedaled when he saw my face. “You wouldn’t want to endanger any of them, and Jordan’s listed as both armed and dangerous. I’ve arranged a leave of absence for you.”

  After wondering constantly if Jordan followed me if I’d be run down again, I didn’t think this would end in a few days. Jordan liked being the hunter—of toying with his prey before he went in for the kill.

  I shuddered. The glint in Jordan’s eyes as he raised the knife to his neck outside my house . . . This time, he wouldn’t stop.

  “We should give an interview,” Murphy said. His tongue flicked over his lip ring.

  Horror built in my chest. “Why would I want to do that?” I gasped.

  “We give people want they want. Our story. And we let them know what Jordan’s done to you, why he’s here and needs to be in jail.”

  I shoved harder this time, hard enough to finally break out of Murphy’s arms. I stood, shaking, arms akimbo. “You want me to explain to some reporter my history? Why we broke up? Have me confirmed as the woman in ‘She’s so Bad,’ and what? You become more popular and I’m pitied or hated or skewered for being stupid?”

  Murphy spread his hands out and leaned back in his chair. “It’s an idea. We don’t have to do it, but getting the correct information out there would help your reputation more than mine.”

  I glared, my chest heaving, until I stormed out of the room.

  The day passed in tiny increments. Even though I wanted to ignore him, Murphy refused to let me. His constant supervision grated as did his desire to check my room any time I went in there.

  Alpie was snuggled on the couch next to me, preening her feathers.

  Murphy glanced at her, then back at me. “Why a bird?”

  “She needed a home.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his way of telling me he was calling bullshit on my answer. I stroked my hand over her head. Alpie turned and nipped my finger, lifting the crown of hot pink feathers.

  “Noelle took me to this bird sanctuary and Alpie hopped onto my shoulder. When Noelle wanted to leave, Alpie wouldn’t get off my shoulder. She kept saying, ‘No. You.’”

  “The bird chose you and you accepted? I didn’t think you liked birds much. And don’t cockatoos live for decades?”

  Another one of those moments of raw honesty. None of the last few days had turned out how I’d expected. “You were gone.” At the dark look he shot me, I held up my hand. “Arguing over why doesn’t change the fact I assumed our relationship was over. I never planned to fall in love again. I can’t have children, so Alpie seemed like a smart choice. I’d have her for thirty to forty years, and then when I needed more medical support, she’d be gone.”

  “You planned to be a spinster with a bird?”

  I glared, refusing to answer. I’d wanted Murphy, but I’d tried to move on. Alpie helped heal some of the worst of my emotional scars. On cue, Alpie climbed into my lap and shushed. Murphy waited, but I ignored him. Instead, I picked up the remote and turned on the telly.

  By three that afternoon, I strung out too tight, even my skin ached with desperate need for another pill. The stress of close quarters wore me down. While Murphy spent time at the piano—he wasn’t as bad as he’d led me to believe—and bent over his notepad, I moped. Daytime telly was horrendous, even with a million channel options. I watched two movies I couldn’t recall by name. Now, out of sheer boredom, I pulled out my laptop, planning to start searching for a new house.

  Murphy’s phone beeped again, the seventh such text. I’d peeked at one earlier—it was a former lover. Three other women called him, but he brushed them off easier than old lint. My scowl deepened as he sighed, m
umbling something about territorial craziness. Oh, so the women were crazy for thinking the sex meant something?

  I slammed my laptop shut. Murphy glanced up from his notebook, pulling the sleek black spectacles from his nose. I huffed out a breath, annoyed by how sexy the man was, even in eyewear. Hell, there was nothing he didn’t look good in. Kill me now.

  Everything about him screamed sex and sweaty nights—but since our talk at breakfast, he hadn’t gotten any closer to me than absolutely necessary. Ergo, he no longer found me attractive. And I suffered—suffered!—from near-constant desire laced with anxiety.

  “I want to go down to the pool,” I said.

  “All right. I’ll go with you.”

  I gritted my teeth, annoyed by his pleasantness. I was like the stray dog he couldn’t shake so he’d finally given in and let me go everywhere with him. Well, I didn’t want to go anywhere with Murphy Etsam. I didn’t want my name linked to his, and I sure as hell didn’t want people thinking we were a reconciled, happy celebrity couple. My shoulders tensed. Nothing could be further from the truth when I wasn’t even worth a pity petting. Preferably naked with lots of bumping and grinding.

  I nearly moaned before the irritation I’d been fighting all day slammed back through me. Stop thinking about sex.

  “You were engrossed. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something important.”

  “I keep telling you, Mila. Nothing’s as important as keeping you safe.”

  I curbed the desire to jump up and down and smash things. Barely. The need still shimmered there, just under my skin. I wanted a pill, but Murphy wouldn’t give me one. I settled Alpie in her cage.

  “I need to be alone,” I bit out.

  “Well, you can’t be. I have to go with you.” He said this good-naturedly. I didn’t even warrant the annoyance of his former root buddies who were too clingy. No, Mila Trask wasn’t important enough to waste real emotions on. Not anymore.

  “I’ll take one of the guards standing outside. What’s his name? Hank. Or Lew. I’m sure either would like a change of scenery.” I stalked toward my room, contemplating how many laps I could swim before I passed out. Probably fifty.

  Murphy coughed, and I near-panted with want. I was a bloody hot mess.

  “They are not seeing you in your swimsuit,” Murphy said, his voice curt. “They’ll have permanent hard-ons and won’t be able to watch anything but your breasts bobbing in the water.”

  I whirled back toward him, eyebrow raised. “A fantasy that you’ve played out probably a million times in the last year with a million different women. So if it’s a perk of their babysitting job, so be it.”

  He stood and stretched. “You’re in a helluva mood.”

  I wasn’t being fair, I knew, but I couldn’t stop. “You could give me back my pills,” I said, my voice saccharine.

  “No can do, love. You need to break the habit.”

  “Not going to happen in a day,” I gritted out.

  “It’s a start.” When he scratched his abs, I bit back a whimper. I wanted to run my hands, my tongue, over that skin.

  My flashes of irritation boiled into a hard knot of need. His phone beeped again. He scowled at the screen. The need deflated back into frustrated anger.

  “What? Don’t like having your long, long list of fuck buddies thrown back at you? Then you shouldn’t have used and tossed so many.”

  He shoved his hands into pockets. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Stop trying to placate me,” I grouched. “It won’t work.”

  “Already figured that out. Your knickers are twisted so far up your bum, they may never come out.”

  I laid my palm flat against his chest, planning to shove him away. Murphy’s hand closed over mine as his other slid around the curve of my waist. He felt good. I wanted nothing more than to melt into him, watch his eyes darken with lust. Feel the first sweep of his finger across the curve of my cheek before he cupped my jaw, tilting my head just so. But he didn’t make any move closer, and I vibrated with suppressed need.

  “If you want me, love, you’re going to have to tell me.”

  “I don’t want you,” I spat, reeling. Even I could hear the lie in my voice.

  I’d suppressed the need for another’s touch for so long, now I could hardly breathe but for the need. One of the bodyguards would do just as well. At the pool. Without Murphy.

  “Whatever you just thought, you’re not doing it,” Murphy said.

  “Let me go.”

  “Mil,” Alpie cried. “Mil. Mil.”

  “Don’t want to,” he said. “In fact, this is the best idea. You still fit me, Mila, like a glove.” He ran the pad of his thumb down my cheek just as I’d dreamed of before, and I quivered.

  That caress—casual but sensual—was still my undoing. And he knew it, the smug bastard.

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “You’re just saying that because you’re bored and it’s been more than twenty-four hours since some woman plastered herself against you.”

  “Much as I like women, you’re the only one who’s ever fit me.”

  “I don’t want you holding me.”

  “You used to love me holding you. You used to slide into my arms, all quicksilver and sweet lust.” His voice dipped low, into that panty-melting space, and my core melted. He tightened his arm around my waist, snuggling me tighter to him.

  Oh, spaghetti on toast, he lowered his head. His lips were inches from mine. I held my breath. He stiffened and stopped, pulled back. “What changed?”

  My temper snapped. I needed another pill, had been craving its dulling effects for hours. Being near him, not touching him, knowing what he’d thought of me, what he’d done afterward. Too much. The tidal wave crested, and I was its first—only—victim.

  “Everything!” I shrieked. “You walked away from me.” Bringing up my other hand, I slapped at his chest. Alpie squawked, fluttering around in her cage. Fury spurred me on, and I kicked him. “You believed I’d cheated on you. I can’t believe you thought I’d do that.”

  “You told me you couldn’t be with me anymore.” Murphy gritted out, dropping his arms. “What did you expect, Mila? I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

  “You wrote a song about me that everyone loves to sing! You wrote it to be hurtful and it is.” My breathing escalated to sharp staccato gasps. “You screwed half the female population.”

  “We weren’t together. I’m sorry about the song. Especially now that I know why you left—”

  “You should have loved me enough to come after me.” I’d never understood the whole seeing-red-with-rage thing. I did then. Sure, I left him, but he believed I wanted to do so. “You should have trusted me.”

  I wanted him to suffer as I did each time I opened my computer to find Murphy wrapped around another beautiful woman. God, I hated those women. Skinny, model-perfect bodies in tiny bikinis. He’d put his hands on them, his tongue. He’d brought them to peaks of pleasure I hadn’t felt since I was last in his arms. I hated them for their knowledge of his body almost as much as I hated him.

  “You broke up with me,” he said. “You hurt me.”

  I slammed my foot into his shin. When he didn’t let go, I pulled at his shirt as I drove my foot forward, just as my self-defense teacher showed me.

  Murphy grunted, stumbled back. “That hurt!”

  “Good,” I panted. “You deserved it.”

  “You need to settle down. Then we can talk about this like rational people.”

  “Don’t tell me to settle down!” I screeched like a dying dingo, a sound Alpie echoed. “You ruined my life.”

  He reeled back, his eyes dark with pain. “Mila.”

  “Call back one of those women. I’m sure they’ll be happy to give you a gobby.”

  “No one here’s talking about blow jobs, Mila.”

  “I’m going to swim laps. By myself.”

  I stormed from the room, slamming the bedroom door shut behind me.

  He didn’t foll
ow.

  18

  Murphy

  She’d snapped. Tension wound tight around her mouth, worsened by the lowered dose of her meds. But the shock of her anger still reverberated through me. Mila was so smart—she always analyzed her problems. She never yelled, never used force.

  I scrubbed my hand over my face. My phone beeped again. Why couldn’t those women leave me the fuck alone? It’s not like I wanted any of them.

  And that, right there, was the crux of the problem. The woman I wanted thought I’d ruined her life. I dragged my hand from my face to massage my chest. The pain of that dart continued to spread its poison through my system.

  Bloody hell. That accusation hurt because she was right. The picture of us never would’ve been in the paper if we hadn’t been playing an important gig that weekend. Jordan wouldn’t have scared her, accosted my mum, if I hadn’t cared more about being a public figure than about my relationships with the people I loved.

  Just one of those choices—if I could go back, I’d change them all, but just one decision might have given Mila a different life now. I picked up my phone, prepared to delete the text, but stopped short when I saw who it was from.

  Let me know if you’re free. Probably best to meet at Briar’s. The media is slavering to get pics of either of us, especially after my performance yesterday.

  Hayden. Much better than another woman I wasn’t interested in. I’d left him a text last night after seeing him at the hospital, once again requesting the opportunity to talk. Maybe heading over there would give Mila time to cool off.

  I walked over to Mila’s door and raised my hand to knock. I paused when I heard her muffled sobs. Hell. I pressed my hand to the door, wishing I could walk in and gather her up. To kiss away her tears. But I’d never have that right, not if she thought I ruined her life. Just because I was thinking about rekindling our relationship didn’t mean Mila would want to. Worse, that she could be in a normal relationship again. What did I know about assault victims?

  Only what I’d seen from my mum. My dad chose to beat the snot out of my mum for serving him a pot roast dinner—typically one of his favorites—after he’d lost his job at the freight company. Because pounding on my preggo mum was a healthy outlet for his anxiety.