Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  “I didn’t stand a chance,” I sighed.

  “He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s all kinds of into you. Oh, Dr. Mila! Do you think he’ll get me a job?”

  I smiled, patted her hand. “If Murphy says he’ll do it, he will.” I needed to believe my words. If it wasn’t . . . well, I’d find out tomorrow if his eye wandered. I cleared my throat. “Now tell me more about the baby’s movements.”

  24

  Murphy

  Kevin stuck his head back into the living area a couple of hours later. “There’s a slew of reporters in the lobby. Just wanted you to know they’re refusing to leave until they get a statement from one of you.”

  I glanced over at Mila, who was curled up with Alpie in the corner of the sofa. She sighed, a long drawn-out sound. Much as she must be struggling with her need for more medication, she never asked for more. Just fallen slowly into a funk that worried me. Was this the start of something more serious? Should I get a counselor in here to monitor her for depression?

  I wasn’t sure, and the lack of a plan caused my stomach to clench. I couldn’t lose Mila again—not now that I’d found my way back into her good graces and her bed. I was settled, happy even. I needed to make sure she stayed in that same emotional place.

  I rose from the piano stool and settled onto the couch cushion next to Mila, wrapping my arm around my shoulder. A burst of pleasure filled my chest when she moved Alpie over so she could settle in closer. Trust wasn’t something Mila threw around, and now that I understood more about her past, my actions—and how they’d hurt her—caused me pain, too. So, this, this willingness to snuggle against me, even if it was subconscious, warmed me more than I cared to admit.

  My phone chirped. Jake strolled out of the second bedroom—formerly my bedroom—rubbing the side of his face. “You get the message from Harry? He set up a press conference for you in ten since all the media outlets are camping in the hotel lobby.”

  I growled in frustration. Mila rubbed my arm in a soothing pattern.

  Kevin glanced around, eyes narrowed. “Might want to bring the media up here. I’ll have the security team vet each person on the way in. Easier to manage the crowd and who’s in it when they’re on your turf.”

  I tipped my head. “Whatever you think’s best,” I said. “But let them know this’ll be short and sweet since we have no real information to share.”

  “Do I have to be here for the press conference?” Mila asked. Dark shadows flitted through her beautiful eyes and hazed the skin below them.

  “Are you tired?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I don’t have the mental energy for media.”

  I was media savvy enough to understand we needed to show a united, happy front. I played with my lip ring, wondering how I could ask it of her.

  “Be best if you were here, Mil,” Jake said with a yawn. “Otherwise there’ll be speculation. Murph and I can answer all the questions. You just need to sit next to him, hold his hand, and look gorgeous.”

  She nodded, a small frown knitting her brows. “I’ll go put on some of my nicer clothes then.” Not that I didn’t think she rocked her yoga pants and hoodie, but changing was probably smart.

  Her shoulders pulled down and in as she trudged toward our shared room, Alpie resting her beak against Mila’s neck.

  “I’m worried about her,” I said, my voice pitched low. She shut the bedroom door with a soft click.

  “Noelle said you confiscated her pills. Whilst she’s dealing with a stalker and an international media shit storm. None of that’s easy on a body. But Mila can handle it.”

  “I want to handle this for her.” Frustration bubbled back up, simmering along with my fear. “Bloody hell! I’m happy for the first time in ages. I want the same for her.”

  “Give her time, mate. She’s been through heaps, sure, but I see how she looks at you. If I’m ever lucky enough to have a woman look at me like that, I’m never leaving her. Ever.”

  “I was a dipshit,” I said with a sigh.

  “True words.”

  “I have to make this right, Jakey.”

  He pulled at his bottom lip. “Seems to me she wants to be with you. Start there.”

  “You’re a smart one. Sometimes, anyway.”

  He patted the back of my head. “Might want to comb your hair. I’m going to do mine now.”

  Kevin ushered in the group of twenty or so reporters. They stood in the living area while Mila and I sat on the same sofa she’d commandeered earlier. Much as I tried to stay on top of the questions, the reporters kept asking Mila questions about her miscarriage and our current live-together relationship. While she covered the strain well, her hand shook even in my tight clasp, and she pet Alpie’s head in a soothing rhythm.

  “What is your comment on ‘She’s So Bad?’ Is it about you?”

  Jake took that one. “We never talk about the genesis of our songs. Not all art reflects our lives, just as our lives don’t all reflect our art.” Good brother, Jake.

  “Why didn’t you tell Murphy you were pregnant? Are you sure the baby was his?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I said, my voice hard. I dismissed the first part of the question, unwilling to divulge more of our secrets than need-be.

  “Jordan’s your step-uncle? How does your mother feel about this situation?”

  “So Jordan was the reason you broke up with Murphy?”

  If the police would just capture Jordan, we’d be able to move on! While I understood their need to follow due process, I wasn’t above thinking vigilante justice was more appropriate in this case. After yet another rude, intrusive question about how Mila felt about my sexual exploits, I cleared my throat. I waited until all the cameras and faces turned to me.

  My smile was slow, calculated for maximum charm. “As you know, Mila has been threatened by her step-uncle. He’s threatened not only her life, but the lives of anyone she cares about. Mila will do anything to protect someone she loves. I know this firsthand. I lost her because of it before.” I raised our clasped hands up and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before turning back to the rapt crowd. “What I need you to do is make sure the police find that piece of shit before he touches either Mila or another innocent person. Like my mum or Mila’s friends. Report that. Find him. The world will be safer.”

  I stood, pulling Mila up with me, ignoring the chorus of questions and Alpie’s shrieking protest.

  “Was that smart?” Jake asked as he followed us into the bedroom Mila and I were sharing.

  “I don’t know.” I tried to gauge Mila’s reaction. Her face was pinched. Was it fatigue or the pain forced on her by bringing up both Kyle and my playboy days? “Felt like the right thing to do.”

  “It’s going to be a manhunt,” Jake said. “Crazies will be out there, trying to find him. Grab some of the glory.”

  “Good.” I gritted my teeth. Was it? Hell if I had the answer. “It’ll slow him down, then.” I pushed Mila’s hair off her forehead. “You all right?”

  She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into my chest. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  25

  Mila

  I refused to leave the hotel suite the next day, too strung out by the media’s obsession with my dead baby. I refused both Noelle’s and Briar’s requests to stop by, not wanting either of them in any more danger because of me. By Friday morning, I’d refused to leave the bedroom for more than a quick meal that Murphy practically forced down my throat. My appetite was even more minuscule than it already had been, thanks to Murphy forcing me to ween off Xanax.

  The withdrawal symptoms had kicked in and my mind was as listless as my aching body. The only time I felt alive was when Murphy touched me, but thanks to the need for multiple rounds of press and practice—that they did at some studio downtown—I didn’t see much of Murphy, which deepened my depressive thoughts.

  “You ready?” Murphy asked. Since the meeting with everyone here on Monday, Murphy had done a complete turnabout, now willing t
o do just about anything to get me to leave the hotel suite and the dark cloud that had been clinging to me for days. He even went so far as to rummage through my new clothes, picking out the outfit he wanted me to wear—tight jeans with multiple rips starting mid-thigh and a form-hugging Jackaroo short-sleeve tee. He’d headed back into the closet for the pair of Chuck Taylors he’d insisted I get, remembering our conversation years ago about how much I’d always wanted to own a pair.

  He kissed my forehead and started toward the bedroom door.

  “Murphy?” I asked. My body aches and the rebound anxiety weren’t as bad this morning. The symptoms were supposed to fade within a week, and I was within a couple of days of that time frame. I stood and stretched, surprised by the energy once again flowing through my limbs.

  “Whatcha need, love?”

  I turned back to him, biting the tip of my finger. Lust flared deep in his gunmetal eyes, but he stayed where he was. This carefulness with me was what I disliked most about Murphy this go-round. I wanted—no, I needed—him to need me as much as I needed him.

  Subtlety wasn’t going to work. I whipped off my sleep shirt and dropped in onto the edge of the bed. “I need you to shower with me.”

  Murphy’s smile was bright. “That’d be my pleasure.”

  Ended up being mine. Twice.

  The venue appeared huge—and really open. Originally slated for the Moore Theater, which held an intimate eighteen hundred people, the label had moved the performance to the White River Amphitheater, about an hour south of Seattle. Ten thousand bright-red seats snuggled up close to the stage. Each of the original ticket buyers received an actual seat for the inconvenience of the move and additional drive out of Seattle. An expansive green lawn behind the covered chairs would soon be dotted with blankets, chairs and lots of screaming fans. Large metal towers with banners of each of the band member’s faces lined the concrete walkway to the center, sentinels of doom if one of them housed Jordan and his firearms. I shivered as I walked in.

  “Feels like a fishbowl with a really big stage,” Noelle muttered, and I tried to stifle my nervous giggle.

  Four more security guards met us at the band entrance while another four stood just inside, arms crossed over their chests. The hallways were cavernous and smelled of old sweat mixed with industrial cleaning products. Gross.

  Harry, Jackaroo’s band manager, met us there, talking into a headset and glaring down at a clipboard. I’d seen him a couple of times this week but hadn’t made the effort to say more than hello.

  He glanced up and his smile was brilliant. I edged closer to Noelle, wondering if he planned to take a bite out of me. I’d never liked Harry, hating the way he treated his wife and two daughters.

  “You’ve done it, Ets! Packed out the house. Nice job staying top of the media. Press conference went swimmingly.”

  “Rack off, Harry. This whole situation is because Mila has a stalker. As in someone trying to hurt her.”

  Harry clucked, concern washing over his features in a waterfall of fakeness. “Right, of course. Absolutely. The record label is thrilled with the attention, just thrilled with your impromptu sales numbers. When you boys get back in the studio, we’ll be able to hammer in a nice new deal.” Harry’s eyes burned brighter as he considered his upcoming windfall.

  “I don’t like him,” Noelle muttered.

  “Because he’s a reptile dressed in a suit?” I whispered back.

  Noelle squeezed my hand. I turned and flashed my own fake smile at Harry, who’d moved over to shake my hand. His gaze calculated my worth to him, his smile never sliding an inch. But I could tell from the look in his eyes that he’d heard me, and he didn’t like my thoughts.

  “Pleasure to see you again,” he said, his voice about as warm as a Tasmanian dawn. “Though I’m surprised you came back after Murphy’s success with ‘She’s So Bad.’”

  “Been a while,” I responded. “How are your lovely wife and children?”

  “Glad for the income I provide them with. Sally’s got the shopping bug. Wouldn’t do to disappoint her.” Why did the words sound menacing? I held my ground, chin up so as not to show my fear.

  Harry shook Noelle’s hand, and she waited until he’d turned away to rub her palm against her skirt.

  Briar stopped next to me and shuddered. “Hayden isn’t fond of him,” she said.

  “I think he heard me refer to him as a reptile,” I said, eyeing the back of Harry’s expensive and highly style head.

  “That’s part of what I like about you, Mila,” Briar laughed. “You call it as you see it.”

  “Not sure I made an ally.”

  Briar shrugged. “He’d never be one. Let’s go to the waiting area. I want to see what type of snacks they’ve stockpiled.”

  Noelle and I trailed behind her, but soon we were surrounded by bodyguards. Being here, at this venue, with one of the hottest bands in the world was so surreal. Not my life at all. Did Murphy have to put up with this throughout his tour? No wonder he’d been ready for some normalcy.

  “Hayden hated the tour. The constancy of being on for the fans grated. Fabulous! Guacamole.” Briar dove at the huge bowl of chips and dip. She piled a plate and snagged a water. “I was nervous this morning, so I ran about ten miles. Hayden grumbled through the last four, but I needed to burn off that energy. Now I’m starving.” She eyed a plate of cookies and snatched one of those as well.

  I snagged a water, too nervous to eat, and wandered over to sit next to Briar. Once settled with her plate balanced on her knees, she devoured her cookie before she began to make headway through her massive pile of chips and guac.

  “You run every morning?” Up until this week, I’d always been active. I hadn’t run, but this morning I had enjoyed my shower.

  Briar chuckled before she popped another chip. “I try to. Before and after Hayden and I spend some quality time together.” She raised her brows, and I giggled.

  “No wonder you’re hungry.”

  “She’s always hungry for me,” Hayden said as he walked into the room. Briar tipped her face up for a kiss. Hayden obliged with alacrity and Briar’s hands came up to cup his cheeks. Noelle stood near the snack table, holding a baby carrot and talking to Jake. Their budding friendship surprised me because Noelle was interested in pushing forward a permanent relationship with Kent. Or, she had been. She and I needed to talk.

  Murphy pulled me into his arms. I loved that he could—and would—sweep me off my feet. I smiled as I pressed my lips to his, savoring the feel of his warm, soft mouth against mine. His days-old stubble chafed at my chin as he tilted my face, bringing me closer and tighter to his body.

  Our tongues met, tangled. I moaned against him, thrilling at his rising passion. This time in our relationship was intense as we relearned each other. I couldn’t get enough. Murphy pulled back with a groan, placing a soft, chaste kiss to my lips.

  We spent the next couple of hours talking, laughing, simply enjoying each other’s company.

  “Five till show time, boys,” Harry called.

  Murphy immediately leaned down and kissed me, an even more heated dual of tongue and teeth than earlier.

  “Not my best idea just before we have to go on.”

  “Why’s that?” I clasped my hands around his neck as he lowered me to the floor.

  “Because now I want to do more with you, and I can’t.”

  “Later,” I whispered, pressing my lips back to his.

  “Lots of later,” he said, his voice dipping low into that sexy rasp I loved so much. “I mean that, Mila. You’re wearing my ring.” He tipped his head to the platinum band on my finger. I’d removed it to swim, but he’d settled it back on my finger before our press conference, and I hadn’t taken it off since. “That means something, just like it did when I slid it on your finger then. Something we’ll work out soon.”

  My eyes felt round, huge. I couldn’t breathe. Did he mean . . . No, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. We were different people, learning
each other again. While he might be impetuous, that didn’t mean he planned to marry me. He pressed his forehead against mine, breathing deep against my neck. “I’m glad you’re here, Mila.”

  He kissed me again, so of course, I responded. “Me, too,” I whispered as he pulled back. “I-I hated taking it off.”

  “Because you weren’t meant to.”

  “Let’s go, gents,” Harry called.

  “You watch from the wings. Don’t leave Kevin’s sight.” Murphy’s eyes were filled with concern.

  I smiled. “Promise.”

  He hugged me tight, pulling me off the ground once more. “I’m scared to go on stage, and it has very little to do with the mob out there. I need to see you during the show.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need to know you’re safe.”

  “I am.”

  “I want to forget about this and carry you back to our suite so I can love you all night.”

  “You can, as soon as you finish working.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  I giggled and kissed him again. “I hope so.”

  26

  Murphy

  The lights were too bright, thanks to the setting sun. Hayden and Jake were struggling to look out into the crowd, too. We were three songs in and while we sounded great, this show wouldn’t go down in our personal top ten.

  I glanced over at the spot I’d told Mila to stay in, and smiled at her, my eyes lighting when she smiled back. I stepped in and sang my part, focusing on the frets as I worked my way through the bridge. We finished hard, and the crowd went wild. I walked to the stage hand.

  “Can you fix the bloody lights? They’re blinding us.”

  He nodded, started talking into his headset. I winked at Mila and drifted back onto the stage in time to rev into a faster melody Hayden had written the year before. Good stuff, this was. He had an ear for it. I lost myself in the music, letting the feelings build and crash over me. Jake grinned. Damn, my job was fun.