Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3) Read online

  “Considering he kept calling your name, even after security mobbed Jordan, I’d say he’s already involved.”

  4

  Murphy

  Shock still reverberated through me, even all these hours later. Mila. At the venue. The fear in her eyes. Her soul-wrenching scream as that man—the man who’d slipped from six fucking security members—touched her.

  That last fleeting peep she’d thrown at me. So much sadness, the pleading with me to understand . . . what? What in bloody hell was I supposed to understand?

  I didn’t know, which was why I was edgy, angry, and way too keyed up to sleep.

  I wasn’t surprised when Jake knocked on my door not much past dawn and not long after I returned from staking out Mila’s house. “Here to tell me how bad I blew my cues?” I grumbled.

  “Considering how much seeing Mila again, seeing her mauled by that arsewipe bothered you, I’d say you did a pretty damn good job.”

  “Ben tell you anything? He hadn’t found her when I spoke with him earlier.”

  Jake shook his head. “Just what you know—she lives here. In Federal Way, according to her mortgage.”

  “She wasn’t there.” I sighed as I collapsed into one of the suite’s chairs. My fingers tunneled through my hair and I pressed the heels of my hands to my gritty eyes. “I waited for hours but she never showed up. What the hell do we pay Ben so much money for?”

  “To protect your sorry arse,” Jake said, settling into the chair across from me. “How are you? Really.”

  I met his worried gaze. “Knackered. She was so scared, Jake. I can’t . . . what if that bloke hurt her? He’s out there still.”

  Jake folded his hands over his stomach. “I talked to one of Mila’s friends, Noelle Markham, while you were trying to find Mila. Noelle said the bloke—Jordan Jones—is Mila’s step-uncle. And that he’s been stalking her for years.”

  The weight on my chest pressed down even harder. “You think that’s true?” I gasped.

  “No reason for her to lie.”

  “But that means . . .”

  “Before you broke up. Why you broke up. That’s what Noelle said.”

  He raised his brow. Of course he thought of the lyrics That sweet smile hid an ice-cold heart. You tried to pull me down, to destroy me from the start. After I promised you forever, you cut our time short to be with him—the man of your past. I ain’t never gonna forget you, sweetheart, nor your tears of glass. From our affair, I got a great story to sell, and it’s the only thing from you I’ll ever tell.

  “You read the news?” He dropped his iPad into my hand and headed into the suite’s dining area where a coffee pot was set up in the corner. The pot rumbled to life.

  “What news?”

  “You don’t have some sheila here, do you?” He waited for my negation before continuing. “Okay, good. Read it.”

  I bit back the angry retort and did as he asked. “States Mila was attacked last night at the Tractor Tavern. Nothing we didn’t already know.”

  “Confirms the arsewipe is, indeed, Jordan Jones, stepbrother to one Rosemary Jones. Mila’s mum.”

  Pouring a steaming cuppa, I slammed it back, shuddering as the liquid burned the roof of my mouth and all down my throat. “The hell, Jake?” I set the iPad down on the table and met his gaze. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To find this lady. Noelle.”

  “Why should we do that?”

  “Because . . .” Hell if I knew why.

  “You can’t break down the woman’s door, demanding answers. Anyway, you and I have a plane home to Sydney to catch.”

  “Then why bother me with this?” I asked.

  “You said Mila left her mum’s house before you first started dating, right? She didn’t ever want to go there, even when she was between places to stay.”

  I nodded. I refilled my coffee cup and sipped more cautiously. My mouth hurt, but I needed the caffeine. The awareness of why Jake was bringing this up was slow to dawn, but when it did, all the breath left my lungs and nausea rooted deep in my stomach. “Bloody hell. Mila left the house because this stalker, her step-uncle, used to live with her.”

  Jake pulled up the article again. He pointed at the artist’s rendering of the man next to an old snapshot, which was next to a grainy photo taken last night. Mila’s back bowed away from Jordan, her fingernails gouged into his hand where it was clamped around her neck. She was in profile, but even the small amount of her face showed soul-deep fear.

  “Seems like this might be the man who threatened our mum—what was it, the message he’d left? He keeps what’s his?”

  I paused, thinking back to that night. A large man, masked, armed with a bush knife, strode up to my mum on the street out front of her house during her evening walk with her dog, Shimzie. He’d told her next time he came back, it wouldn’t be to leave a message. Shimzie barked his head off enough for neighbors to step outside, concerned about the racket. When the bloke stepped forward to stuff a paper in Mum’s hand, good ole Shimzie bit his ankle with those tiny Pekinese teeth. The message was direct but odd. I keep what’s mine.

  Jake, the police, and I had puzzled over those words. If he planned to steal from my mum, how could he claim the items were his? He didn’t take anything, and Mum was firm in her stance not to make a bigger fuss out of the situation. But now . . . what if the bloke meant Mila? Chewing my lip, I considered the news story.

  “I can’t go home,” I said. The need to protect Mila shocked me even as it overpowered my good sense and the reasons I shouldn’t care—mainly that she’d dumped me. “I have to go see this Noelle woman. Find Mila. Talk to her.”

  A deep furrow built between Jake’s eyebrows. “You think seeing her is a good idea?”

  No. Seeing Mila again was a terrible idea. I wasn’t ready for it—would never be ready.

  She broke my bloody heart. Then, when I found out she was preggo with some other man’s baby, she shredded it so small, I still didn’t have all the pieces. I shrugged.

  “You planning to be your typical charming self? How much further do you plan to blacken your image and that of the band, Ets?”

  “She’ll deserve anything I say. And I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I said, shoving him out of the way as I headed toward the bedroom. A quick shower and then I was off to find answers.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed. I shoved my wallet into my back pocket and headed back to the living room. Stopping short, I gaped at the sight of my mum.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She rose from the couch, her gray curls bouncing around her face. Her cheeks were the same soft pink as usual, but her eyes were red-rimmed, and her mouth pinched tight.

  “Nice to see you, too, son. Lovely greeting.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m chuffed to see you. Course I am. But . . . you hate to fly.”

  She’d never come to any of our concerts because of it. The fear was deep, instilled in her as a teen when she’d hit turbulence over the Pacific Ocean coming back from her one trip abroad to Japan. No matter how much Jake and I coaxed her, we never got her near an airport again.

  She swallowed hard against my shoulder, clutching me with her fingertips. “It was awful. Worse than I imagined. But I had to tell you in person what I know.”

  I settled her onto the cushion next to me on the couch and took her shaking hand in mine. “You’re scaring me, Mum.”

  She brushed her hair back off her forehead, her pale blue eyes settling on my face. “I’m sorry, Murphy. What I did at the time, I did as Mila asked me.”

  I stiffened, yanking my hand from her grip. My stomach spun, dipped, all the while aching with the knowledge I wouldn’t like what came next. “What . . .” No other words came.

  “I knew there was more to Mila’s leaving than you told me!” Jake crowed.

  “Doesn’t matter if there is,” I snapped. I narrowed my eyes a
nd willed the words to be true. “I’m totally over her.”

  Jake raised his brow again, calling me on my shit. He’d known, more than Hayden, how much Mila meant to me, and he’d been the one to suggest I go talk to her in Perth—for my sanity. I hadn’t, and Jake dealt with the fallout from my misery this past year.

  “So no worries that I’ve set up to have drinks with her later tonight then. Ben found her and we talked. Be good to catch up.”

  Both my hands were in his shirt as I shoved him against the wall. “You don’t touch her. Ever.”

  Jake shoved me back, his boot catching on the edge of the fancy carpet, causing him to stumble.

  I stalked away, trying to ignore the growl building in my throat. Jake couldn’t put his hands on her curves. Her soft white breasts with those luscious pink nipples. The slight curve of her belly. The firm give of her bum.

  “Stay away from her,” I snarled.

  “You can’t have it both ways, mate. You walk around like an angry, wounded bear and, all the while, collect more women than a sheik has in a harem.” I saw Mum flinch at those words. Can’t say I’ve been winning any son-of-the-year awards with my shoddy behavior.

  “One of the perks of being famous,” I gritted out, my jaw locked down solid. I was seconds away from swinging at my brother. Bad as the shit got with the band these last few months, I’d never come to blows with Jake. He meant too much to me. But now, my ears filled with a loud, vicious ring. The same sound I’d fought off when Hayden came back from his jaunt to Seattle a few months ago so bummed out and lovesick over a piece of arse—who turned out to be the love of his life. Yeah, no wonder Briar was wary of me, and Hayden considered me the excrement on his shoe. I’d tried hard to destroy their relationship from the get-go.

  Stupid of me to foist my issues with Mila onto Hayden’s relationship with Briar. Stupid and wrong.

  Jake shook his head, eyes filled with disgust but also sorrow. “This is your chance to fix it. Forgive Mila for her mistake and let the past go. Especially if she left because of a stalker. That’s serious. And mental.”

  “Mila didn’t make a mistake,” I bellowed, so many of my emotions spilling over. “She told me she couldn’t see me anymore. Left me that note.” I still had it. It was in my wallet. I pulled it out sometimes to remind myself why I was so fucking angry with her. I love you, Murphy, I always will, but there’s a man from my past. I need to sort things with him if I can ever truly be with you properly. “She said if I came round, she’d leave. Which she did anyway. Ran away, got pregnant with some other man’s bub. She wasn’t supposed to ever. Come. Back.”

  “So are you angry she showed up here or are you angry you still love her?” Jake snapped back.

  I tugged at the piercing in my eyebrow. The one I got when Mila chickened out and wouldn’t do her second hole at the top of her other ear. We’d had matching loops put in and for some stupid shit reason, I’d never been willing to take mine out.

  “You’ve cracked a fruity, Murphy.” Mum’s face paled to chalk-white, her mouth pulled into a tight pucker. “This should never have gone so far.”

  Bloody hell. Why couldn’t Mila have stayed buried in my past, nothing more than the genesis for the song that bought me my fame?

  “There are things you need to know,” she said, a tremble building in her voice. “That you should have known then. That I wanted to tell you but I was asked not to share.”

  “Then why’s it fine to tell me now?” I asked, the sick feeling of dread creeping up my throat.

  “Because I keep an eye on Rosemary, but it’s mainly to keep an eye on that—that . . . Jordan. Once Mila told me who he was, what he’d threatened, what he did to her, seemed prudent. When Rosemary said Jordan was flying to Seattle—where you and Mila both were—” Mum swallowed hard. “I caught the next flight.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because . . . you really need to talk to Mila.” Mum sighed, her eyes and the tip of her nose reddening. “That car accident. It wasn’t one.”

  Shit. From the moment my mother appeared, I’d worried she might tell me I’d been wrong about Mila. “She was hit by a car. I read that,” I said. I rubbed my chest, trying to ease the bloody tightness there. Oh. Bloody hell. Mila’d written there’s a man from my past. I need to sort things with him if I can ever truly be with you properly. I’d thought she meant a lover. But I’d seen the bloke last night, felt her fear, but . . . Oh, bloody hell. She’d been hit by a car and miscarried. My baby. Gone. And I’d sung that song and made a point to make it in all the papers with as many women as possible.

  Oh. Fuck. No.

  I stood, needing to do something. If I didn’t get out, didn’t move, I was going to explode with the awfulness of the truths slamming into me. Jake stepped in front of me, his movements jerky. Unsure what to do.

  “No, Jakey. Let him go. Murphy has to deal with this,” I heard Mum say.

  But I wasn’t sure I could deal. She’d carried my bub. Left me, knowing that. Left me because of it, sounded like. My bub, dead. An innocent life snuffed out, much too soon, because of violence.

  I walked out the door, wracked with pain, sadness, and yes, guilt. I let Mila leave.

  Probably a good thing I didn’t have keys to a vehicle at the moment, as I couldn’t focus on anything other than the next step, next breath. Trying to out-walk the hurt ripping through my heart. I walked and walked and walked. My phone rang, and I fumbled to silence it. Eventually, I made it to the beach.

  By sheer luck, I’d headed north, toward Alki Beach, the closest I could come to our place. I glanced around, half expecting her, the Mila of my past, but she didn’t come out to haunt me.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and tipped my head up toward the storm cloud–studded sky. Anything to try to calm my raging thoughts.

  Didn’t work.

  She’d left to protect me and my family. The very reason I’d wanted her close—to keep her safe and happy. Why didn’t she tell me the truth?

  My head drooped and I tunneled my fingers through my hair, wishing—needing—to take back everything that happened since that moment when she walked out of that venue in Sydney nearly fourteen months ago.

  I wrote that song about her. Opened up our private life to the world so they could hate her, too.

  Not sure what else to do, I walked along the surf’s edge. Frigid water soaked my boots and jeans, but I kept walking. How else to move beyond the feelings swamping me?

  My phone rang, but I ignored it again.

  My heart broke for the child I never knew. The one I should have had with Mila. She’d been fragile beneath her tough exterior; it’s part of what drew me to her that first night. She’d refused to go out with me for months. Finally holding her in my arms, my lips touching hers, was the highlight of my life.

  What if the bub was a girl with Mila’s eyes? I’d never get to see them widen with surprise like Mila’s did when I brought her with flowers or that simple ring. I’d never hold my daughter, cuddle her. Tell her I love her.

  Because I did. Bollocks. Jake, the sneaky little shit, was right.

  I was angry, but if I’d asked Mila why, begged her to stay, maybe . . . maybe I’d be sitting with her and our child right now.

  My phone rang again.

  “What, Jake?”

  “Where are you? Mum’s worried.”

  I dropped my head to my knees. “Right. I’m on the beach. Send Ben to pick me up?”

  “Give a street name and we’ll be there in a few.”

  I headed back up the beach, straining to catch a glimpse of a street sign.

  Jake and Ben pulled up within minutes of me exiting the beach access and about a half minute before a younger, hungrier crowd mobbed me. My personal guard, Kevin, appeared—he’d probably been with me the whole time but I’d been too distracted to notice.

  “Bloody hell,” I said, slamming the car door shut. “Ferals everywhere these days.” One of the blokes slammed his hand against my wind
ow, causing me to jump. “The attention is even worse. I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Harry was right to increase the security detail after Hayden and Briar’s big makeup in Amsterdam.”

  “Thanks, Kevin,” I said, reaching forward to clap him on the shoulder.

  “So what are you going to do?” Jake asked.

  “About what?” I asked. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to shut him out.

  “About Mila, dickhead.”

  “I’ll go see her. Hear what she has to say for herself.” I clenched my jaw, anger and hurt building into a noxious mass that sickened my gut. I had to hear her say it. I needed to look in her eyes when she told me why she left that day.

  “Not like that you won’t,” Jake said with a disgusted glance.

  “Like what?”

  “You’re covered in sand and your eyes have more red than any other color. You look hungover. And mean.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I snapped. “Didn’t touch a drop. And I’ve never raised my hand to a woman, Jake.”

  “First time for everything, I reckon,” Jake responded.

  “You think I’d do that?” Hurt seeped into my words. “After the way Dad treated Mum, you really think I could ever abuse a woman?”

  Jake repositioned his hands, his jaw clamped just as tight as mine.

  “No, I don’t. But, bloody hell, Murphy. This is serious. Dead serious. And Mila . . . She’s all alone.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I sighed, raking my hand through my disheveled hair. “I don’t know what to do about Mila. Not yet.”

  “I don’t want you to say anything, you idiot. I want you to be the brother you used to be. The one who walked me to school so I wouldn’t have to face Perry Evans and his gang of wankers by myself. The one who cares about a woman’s feelings and doesn’t discard her faster than a sweat towel.”

  “Thanks for the words of encouragement, mate.”

  “Why were you so shocked to hear the kid was yours?”

  “She told me she was with another bloke, that he’d been hanging around a while. He was older, knew her secrets. He was waiting for her outside and she had to go.” I turned my head to stare at my brother. “Do you think she tried to tell me something. Like in code?”