“Shot,” I said.
Kent started talking, but I didn’t bother to listen. I dropped my head into my shaking hands and tried to breathe. I wanted Mila. Beside me. I needed to touch her, hear her voice.
Tell her it wasn’t pity or guilt that made me want to spend my life with her. It was her determination to help people, her intelligence, her love. No matter what happened, no matter how hurt she was, I would take care of her and love her the way she deserved to be loved. The way I should have anyway. As I’d promised her the day I put that platinum band on her finger.
The officers left and the wait continued.
29
Murphy
The woman encapsulated more stubbornness than three mules. “You are not going to the concert tonight. You were shot six days ago. You almost died.” I tugged at my eyebrow ring, fiddled with my lip ring, anything to keep from breaking down.
She lifted her right hand, on her good side, grimacing a little as it jostled her other shoulder. “Before you come up with all the reasons I shouldn’t go, I’ve been released with my doctor’s blessing. Noelle’s coming with me to the Showbox. She’ll monitor me. And I want to see you play. I didn’t get to see enough at the charity concert.”
“I’m not going. I told you, I want to stay home with you.” I glanced over at Alpie, who’d settled into Mila’s other side. The cockatoo turned her head so her bright black eyes gleamed as she stared back at me. “Fu-‘atoo!” she growled. She waddled over Mila’s lap and rubbed her beak against Murphy’s hand. “Love-oo.”
I rubbed my forefinger under her chin. “You’re glad I brought Mila home. I told you the trip to the hospital was a bad idea.”
The bird dipped her head, her crest rising. “Mil! Love-oo. Shush.”
“You two were so cute. I can’t believe you snuck her in to see me.”
“Bloody bird wouldn’t stop calling your name.”
She smiled as she raised her good arm and placed her palm on my chest. “Please, Murphy.”
“Night,” Alpie sang. She fluttered off toward her cage.
“Is this your way of exerting control?” I asked, annoyance and love flashing over my skin, heating me too much.
“Murphy,” Mila said, her voice serious. “I want to come. Please.”
“I want to manage the situation. You. So you can’t ever leave me again.”
Mila rolled her eyes as she giggled. “I understand that. Sort of. I don’t want you to get away again either.”
I studied her eyes. The one benefit of her surgery was Mila hadn’t taken her Xanax in days—and better, no longer craved it. Her eyes were clear, her smile real. My Mila was shining through, and I couldn’t be happier. Or more relieved.
I cupped her cheek. “I promise I won’t try to force you to do things my way. Or control you. Or get in the way of your patients. I want you happy, Mil. Happy and healthy.”
“It would make me happy to come to your concert tomorrow night.”
Bollocks. Like I could deny her anything when she looked at me like that.
“On one condition,” I said, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her closer to me in tiny increments. I searched her features, making sure I wasn’t hurting her. She snuggled there, just where I wanted her, her head bobbing up and down eagerly. I pressed a kiss to those sweet lips. Touching her, kissing her thrilled me. Every time.
“What’s that?”
I sucked on my tongue ring, considering. Was I ready? Was she? Was I pushing? Trying to control her? “Promise to take a nap.”
Mila smirked. “Deal. As long as you nap with me.”
I kissed her again. “You drive a hard bargain, Mila Trask, but I accept your terms.”
Nerves skated through my belly. I didn’t do nerves. But Mila was out there, watching, listening. I wanted to do her proud, not just of me tonight but to call this tune her own. I played the piece for Jake via Skype while Mila napped.
“You nailed it, mate,” he said, smiling. “If that isn’t a hit, I know nothing about music.”
“You reckon?”
He nodded. “Wish I was there to see this,” he sighed. “I wish I could have stayed.”
“I’m glad you went home to keep an eye on Mum. This whole thing scared me pretty much shitless.”
“Bloody right. Rosemary still whining to the police and the papers, but no one here’s listening.”
I huffed out a breath, trying to ease the ache in my chest and neck.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks, mate. Your help with all this, what you did to save Mila and Mum . . . It means a lot.”
“Anything for you, big brother.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow?”
“You know where to find me.”
I smiled as he rung off.
Now, a few hours later, I swiped my palms on my jeans before I walked out onto the stage. The wood boards creaked, giving under each step. The lights burned my eyes, heated my skin. I nodded at the audience, but my eyes sought hers. There, front row. Next to Noelle’s bushy-bright hair.
“Thanks for that. Always nice to hear the love.”
Hoots and hollers filled the room. “As many of you know, I’m here with a special lady. She’s been through a rather spectacularly awesome week.” I winked at Mila who shook her head at me, a sweet smile sliding over those pink lips. “But her stalker’s dead and she gets me in the bargain, so I figure it’s not a complete loss.”
Most of the audience clapped, though some of the girls scowled at Mila.
“None of that now. She was shot protecting me. Not everyone can say their woman saved a bloke’s life. I can. And that’s heaps cool.”
I strummed my guitar. “I’ve been asked more times than I can count about the impetus for ‘She’s So Bad.’ I’m still not telling that, but I will tell you that I wrote this song for the lovely lady down there. Mila, this is for you, love. And I hope to write you many, many more songs.”
The crowd awed. The same women wiping their eyes. I’d never understand that lot. I started the with a G-chord, strumming softly.
We’d saved this song for the last of the first set because I wanted to take Mila back after this, letting Asher, Hayden, Bill, and Carl play some of the songs they’d put together these past few weeks. I was shocked by how happy they’d been to play this one for me.
But perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. Both Hayden and Asher found their loves during the past year, but this was a new song, a complicated melody that broke out of the standard four-chords to hit the minor fifth. Because there was nothing traditional about my relationship with Mila, and she deserved an exceptional song. The melody held all the yearning I felt as I’d sat at the dining table in our suite days ago, looking over at Mila and wishing to get back what we’d had.
Asher built the melody with his fast fret work. Bill slid out of a shadow, his guitar hitting the octave lower. They both grinned, pleased as I was with the three-part harmony. Hayden played an intricate series of chords along his keyboard. Carl brushed out some soft beats, his head bobbing.
I kept my focus centered on Mila as I stepped back to the microphone. A flash zinged up my spine. I’d missed her presence in the crowd. I didn’t want to tour again without her. Hell, I didn’t want to live without her again.
“There comes a time,
Somewhere, down the line
Where it’s about what could’ve been.
But you know what, baby?
I don’t worry
cuz I found you again.
Now let me hold you close
and keep you warm.
Pride ain’t that mighty,
not when yours is the best love
I cannot lose,
So baby, I’m here, needing you—
If you stay,
Let me hold you close
and keep you warm.
Her lips parted, and her eyes darkened. If I was closer, those brown-green swirls would suck me in.
/>
I sang the next verse as the music built up and crashed over me. Asher revved up, head bent over his guitar. One of the most awe-inspiring moments ever—standing on stage and watching him handle his instrument. I was playing with Asher Smith. He played the lead guitar on a song I wrote.
My eyes snapped back to Mila’s. She stared, entranced, even when Noelle leaned over clasp her hand. I slid into the final chorus.
“So baby, shut the door—
Slip in close
and keep me warm.”
The crowd went insane. It took five minutes for the fans to quiet enough for us to be heard through the sound system.
Hayden stepped forward, making the gesture to settle down. “You got the biggest treat. Ets wrote that song last week, and you’re the only people who’ve heard it. Now, we have to break. We’ll be back with some more excellent tunes in a few.”
I slipped off my guitar, handing it to a waiting roadie. I turned to Hayden, and he gripped my hand, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “Bloody amazing! Best song we’ve ever performed.”
“That’s because I played the lead,” Asher said. He smiled at me, slapped my back. “But Hayden’s right. A great one tonight.”
“Thanks to both of you, Bill and Carl. Playing with you, having Mila here, that meant everything.” I shook their hands, hoping Hayden understood all that I was feeling.
“She’s safe and she’s yours, mate,” Hayden said. “Go home. We’ll talk soon.”
“Sounds good. And Hayden?” I cleared my throat. “You’ve always been my best mate.”
The corner of Hayden’s mouth flipped up. “You have good taste.”
30
Mila
“He wrote you a song, Mil. It’s freaking beautiful.” Noelle swiped her knuckle under her eye. “Holy hell. He made me cry.”
Me, too. The lyrics were gorgeous and heartfelt. But it was the softening of his features, the Murphy I met over five years ago peeking through those shuttered eyes that took my breath away. He hopped off the stage, much to the fans’ delight. They surged forward; everyone wanted a piece of him.
“Oi!” Hayden’s voice poured out of the speakers. “Give the bloke enough air. He’s got to get to his woman. She’s recovering from being shot, remember. No jostling that precious merchandise unless you want to see Ets go thermal-nuclear. It’s not pretty.”
The crowd, even the overzealous women, laughed and stepped back.
He sauntered through the crowd because, hey, Murphy would always thrive on the adoration. But as he stepped close, his eyes sought mine. And I fell into his blue-gray gaze, falling in love with him all over again.
“You sang me a song,” I whispered.
He pulled me into his arms with the most exquisite care. He kissed my eyelids, where tears trembled. Then he kissed my nose and I smiled. Finally, he placed his lips over mine. His lip ring was warm and I flicked it with my tongue, pulling his lip deeper into my mouth, just like he liked. We both moaned as need torched over our skin.
He pulled back, much more aware of our audience than I. “Sorry, folks. We’re out.”
I squeaked as his arm slid just under my bum and he lifted me off the ground. I rested my head against his shoulder, too caught up in Murphy’s scent to care about the videos soon to be uploaded on every social media site.
An hour later, we lay facing each other in the hotel suite’s bed. He ran his finger over my nose and lip. “I love you in bed with me.”
“I love you,” I replied.
His eyes lit up just before his teeth flashed white in the building darkness. He wrapped his arm around my waist but didn’t pull me any closer. He worried about my wound. I inched toward him until I all our skin touched. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I’m sorry, Mila.”
“For what?” I murmured.
“Lots of things, really. For thinking I knew best. For the way I handled our breakup, for trying to get you to quit your meds before you were ready. But mostly, that Jordan took away your chance to have another baby. I wanted to see a little girl just like you running ’round our place, rocking some glittery pink princess shit.”
I struggled not to laugh. Only Murphy. “I have something to tell you about that.”
He ran his fingertip over my nose, across my lip, up my jawline, his eyes following his finger. In all my dreams about being touched like this, none felt as good as the real deal. I sighed.
“You tired?” he asked.
“A little.” I paused, wondering if it was too soon. But, no, I should have told him days ago. Like he’d asked me before, why did you wait?
I didn’t plan to wait, to hold secrets in, ever again.
“My doctor ran blood work after my surgery. A couple of times. Both times my hCG levels came back elevated. I’m going to see a specialist next week.”
“Okay. So you need some more tests runs then? Are you going to be okay?” He sounded so worried. I loved how he worried about me.
“The hCG is the pregnancy hormone. It’s still early days yet, but it’s possible I’m pregnant.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” Murphy’s brow pulled low and a scowl twisted across those gorgeous lips.
“I’m not sure if I am. It’ll be another couple of weeks to know for sure.” And you haven’t told me you love me.
“But you could be?”
“Yes.”
“And it is likely?”
“It’s a strong possibility,” I said, grinning up at him. He leaned down and kissed me, taking great care not to bump my shoulder. He pulled back and I hummed against his chest, feeling happier than I could ever remember.
He ran his fingers through my hair, each of us soaking up being near the other. “You’re thinking hard in there. Spill it, love,” he said.
I thrilled at the endearment, but I wanted the words.
“You start your next tour soon. I bet.”
“About that. Flip wants some time off to enjoy his new family. Hayden’s settling down into his new life with Briar. Jake wants to go back to uni and study more art history. He’s applying to the program here, at Northwestern, where Briar is taking courses.”
I giggled. “Jake’s turning into a tweedy professor.”
“That he is.” Murphy’s smile slid off, leaving him serious, nervous even. Why did I like him best just off balance? He seemed so much more human. “Mila, I—”
He stopped talking and my heart sank.
“You do have a new song to record,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Did that at the show tonight. It’s on YouTube and the record label will release it as a live single.”
“Thank you. For the song.”
“If I’d been smart, I would have written it instead of ‘She’s So Bad.’” He continued to trace his fingers over my face and my lids grew heavier. “I love you, Mila. I even love your damn annoying bird, who I plan to build an entire room for once you pick out a house. And I have plans to marry you someday. Soon. No. When you’re ready. Preferably before the little nipper shows up.”
“Don’t be silly,” I scoffed. “You don’t have to marry me.”
“I’ll propose as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”
“But it’s so soon after we got back—”
“Mila? You need to fight less. With me, I mean. You’re getting a big fucking ring and you’re going to take my name, make the bub ours.”
“Oh, am I?” My tone was dry. “What if that’s not what I want?”
Murphy groaned. “Bollocks. I’m trying. I’ll ask you right as soon as you feel well enough for the rest of your surprise evening.”
“What if I don’t want a surprise evening?”
“Go out, take on the rest of the world but let me give you this. And you have to promise to stay safe whilst you save other people. Because I need you. And I love you. We’re meant.”
I pressed my lips to his throat, soaking in the words I’d desperately needed to hear. Pulling back
, I looked up into his eyes. “I love you, too.”
He smiled, brighter than I’d ever seen before, which made me smile.
“You think we were meant?” I asked.
“No.” His finger traced my nose, lips, cheeks. “I know it.”
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Acknowledgments
There are so many people I need to thank. This journey wasn’t an easy one. First, my husband, Chris, and my parents. Your support made this possible.
Taylor, your thoughtful comments were insightful and so very helpful. I’m so glad we’ve had the opportunity to work together.
Juliette, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the help with the Aussie-isms. And for reading such an early draft and giving me hope there was, indeed, something special in this story.
Shane and Susie, your knowledge of the criminal justice system allowed me to write an informed story. Thank you so, so much for sharing your expertise.
My LERA friends, thank you so much for your generosity and support.
Clarissa, thank you for an amazing cover. I love it.
Nicole, your thoughtful edits made this book shine (just like the ones before it!). I cannot thank you enough. I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you and now count you a dear friend as well as a kick-ass editor.
Erin, you amaze me with your ability to create such strong back cover copy. My books are stronger because of your efforts. Thank you.
And to my readers, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. You’re the best! Be sure to say hello on Facebook or Twitter. I’d love to “meet” you all.
Many Sounds of Silence, Book Four
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 73
