Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3)

by Alexa Padgett

  Another shot. Shouts of alarm rippled through the ward like a wave cresting in the ocean only to be hushed by their own fear of discovery. My legs pumped faster.

  He’d broken her before. He’d do it again in an effort to own her body.

  Another corridor. I rounded the corner. She stood there, at the far end. Her back was to me, her beautiful hair floated wild around her head, her back straight. Jordan stood mere feet away, the gun pointed at her chest. One of the guards lay crumpled at her feet, too still.

  “Mila!”

  Her name ripped from my chest. Jordan raised the gun. He wanted to shoot at me, not her.

  “I’ll give you everything you ever wanted. I’ll love you right,” Jordan said, his face collapsing. “Why isn’t that enough for you?”

  “Because you want to control my feelings,” Mila said, her voice steady. How could it be so steady? “My body. My love. And you can’t.”

  I didn’t take my eyes off Mila. I was still too far away. I couldn’t wrap my arms around her and shield her. I ran faster, my lungs convulsing, needing air.

  Her whole body quivered as if preparing for flight.

  No.

  She jumped forward. Jordan flinched. The gun’s report was more menacing than anything I’d ever heard. Mila screamed, a high, thin sound that cut off as she sank to her knees. Her shoulders hunched. Bloody hell. He’d done it. He shot her.

  Jordan reached forward. I ran closer. Mila grabbed at the gun. I vaulted over the prone guard and lowered my shoulder. I’d played rugby as a young boy, and tackling was one of the first skills I mastered. Mila struggled. Jordan held firm, reached his hand forward to touch her face. My shoulder caught him in his lower jaw. Bone hit bone and, thanks to my speed, his jaw snapped as I continued pummeling him, sending us both crashing to the ground.

  Angling my body just so, I made sure Jordan’s head hit the floor first. Unprotected, his head slammed into the linoleum with a rich thunk, as my chest slammed into his body, his head bounced and hit the ground again.

  If I was lucky, he’d remain knocked out. On my knees, his body between my thighs, I searched for his gun. Where was it? Footsteps and shouts pounded around us.

  “Step back! Mr. Etsam, get off the suspect.”

  “He’s not a suspect. He’s a bloody killer.”

  The police were here. I didn’t care about the gun. Mila. He’d shot her. At such close range. I scrambled up and turned. She’d slumped down, cheek resting on her arm. Her face was so pale. Her lips white.

  “Murphy,” she whispered. I fell to my knees beside her. “Love you.”

  Two men in scrubs raced around the corner, pulling a gurney. Much as I wanted to push them away, I couldn’t. The doctors here would save her. They had to.

  A hand slid to my shoulder and I jerked.

  “She’s going into OR,” Noelle said, her voice thick with tears. Clearing her throat, she continued. “One of our best surgeons is here. He’ll do the surgery.”

  “I need her to be okay.”

  Noelle squeezed my shoulder. I’d gone on too long in my sentence. I need her.

  That summed up everything, and the fear clawing through my gut told me I might not see her alive again.

  “Come on. Best we can do is be in the waiting room when they come out.”

  “What about Jordan?” I asked.

  We turned in time to see Jordan struggling against the officers holding him. His broken jaw hung slack. I smiled, thrilled he felt some of the pain he’d inflicted on Mila.

  With an enraged howl, Jordan lurched toward me, grappling at the police man’s belt for a weapon. I shoved Noelle behind me, pressing her tight against the wall. Jordan and the officer grappled as another officer yelled for him to stop. Their guns pointed at Jordan, who’d managed to unholster the weapon. His eyes glazed with hate, he yanked it from the belt. Immediately, multiple shots rang out. Jordan, like Mila, lurched, quivered.

  He died before he hit the floor.

  Noelle’s hands gripped into the back of my shirt, and I eased forward so her nose no longer pressed so hard into my shoulder blade.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  I turned and wrapped my arms around her, keeping her face pressed against my chest. “He’s dead, Noelle. He can’t hurt you or Mila or anyone else again.”

  Her body shook but she nodded. One of the officers led us back down the hall the way we’d come, away from Jordan and the guard. Toward the waiting room, I hoped. I needed to be close to Mila. No, I needed to hold her, to know she was going to make it through being bloody shot.

  One of Noelle’s nursing friends was there, offering water as she shepherded us into a waiting room. We sat there until another man, hair tousled and eyes wide, ran into the room. He dropped to his knees in front of Noelle, touching her cheek. She opened her eyes and peeled her other cheek from my tear-dampened shirt. She wrapped her arms around the man and shivered. He held her as he stood, transferring his bum to the chair while Noelle curled into him.

  “Kent,” he said, his voice low.

  “Murphy,” I replied.

  “Did you really step between Noelle and the gunman? That’s what I heard the officers say as I came down the hall.”

  My brows drew low in a scowl. “Course, mate. I wasn’t going to let him shoot her.”

  Kent swallowed hard, his eyes bright. “Thank you.”

  I nodded.

  “Have they told you anything?” Kent asked.

  “No,” Noelle mumbled. “Murphy’s been comforting me, and I was too shaken to go ask. I should be better about this. I’m a nurse.”

  Kent slid his hand over Noelle’s mass of wild curls. “You’re in shock, darling. Nothing wrong with that after the last couple of hours. Sit here a second? I’ll find out.”

  He was gone for a long time but neither Noelle nor I spoke. We stared at the entrance, both of us willing someone to walk in.

  “What happened to Tanya?” I asked. Shame rippled over my skin. The poor girl. I’d only just remembered her.

  Noelle started. “Oh! They moved her down to ICU. It’s got better security. She’s fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Noelle nodded. “I talked to the nurse on call, had her make a big show of needing to move Tanya for testing. Jordan was in the room, then, and Sasha—the nurse—will have to give her statement to the police, too, I’m sure. They moved most of the women and babies from this floor to other sections of the hospital before the shelter in place took effect.”

  “Calm under pressure. You medical people amaze me.”

  Noelle snorted. “Pretty sure I just experienced an epic meltdown.”

  “Nah. You stayed with Mila.” I gripped her hand. “Thank you for that. Thank you for letting us know where she was. Made the whole rescue possible.” I swallowed hard. If we’d rescued Mila. Mum said to stay positive for Mila. I was trying, but it was bloody hard.

  Kent returned and resettled Noelle in his lap once again. She snuggled in tight against him with a familiarity that bore out when he cupped her waist, his thumb rubbing in a soothing rhythm against her ribs.

  “Mila’s still in surgery. He shot her clavicle. The surgeons are working to rebuild it.”

  “But she’s going to make it?” I asked—ok, more like choked. Bollocks. That couldn’t be my voice.

  “She lost a lot of blood, and the impact at such close range increases the severity of the trauma, but one of the nurses in OR stepped out long enough to tell me he hit her high, more in the muscle just above the bone. Granted, that means closer to her neck. As long as he didn’t clip her carotid artery, she should be stable soon.”

  I closed my eyes and dropped my head to my hands. “And if it did hit her artery?” I managed to ask.

  “That’s a lot harder to fix,” Kent said, his tone careful enough for me to realize he didn’t want to talk about the possibility. “Not impossible, but hard.”

  “He didn’t hit any
nerves, right?” Noelle asked.

  “I don’t think so. I don’t have any other information, but what Nancy told me is pretty good news. Let’s run with that for now.”

  Hayden sped into the room, holding Briar’s hand.

  “Murphy!” She slammed into the chair next to me, her blue eyes searching mine. “The reports we’ve listened to on the way over have been confusing. What’s happened? Is Mila okay?”

  “Dunno how the sack of shit got into the building. Kevin texted that he’s in the OR downstairs where they took his buddies. All three of them were shot trying to get Mila out of the building. Jordan shot Mila.” The words felt wrong in my mouth, sounded worse as they met my ears.

  “The number of media outlets outside is insane,” Hayden said. “The reports on the radio and Internet said multiple people were killed.”

  “Jordan downed at least four men. I don’t know anything about their conditions yet. The police shot him. Jordan’s dead.”

  Hayden dropped into the chair next to Briar’s. “Holy hell. This is a bloody nightmare. Any word on Mila?”

  “She’s in surgery,” Kent said.

  “Hi, Kent,” Briar said. “Sorry to see you here, like this.”

  He smiled as he pressed a kiss to Noelle’s hair, who’d squeezed her eyes shut as we retold what we knew.

  Two uniformed officers walked in, needing statements from Noelle and me. Kent wouldn’t let her out of his lap, so we sat there, on those plastic chairs and told them our pieces of the story.

  Briar stiffened as I talked, tears pooling in her eyes. Hayden took her hand and squeezed.

  “This is Harry’s fault, too. I can’t believe he locked us in that room,” Briar snapped.

  I could see why Hayden was drawn to the woman. I hoped—one day—she and I could become friends. She’d make a great one to Mila, too.

  “Don’t worry, love,” Hayden said. “Jake may have fired him, but I still plan to deal with Harry.”

  I nodded my head in thanks, my throat too clogged with my emotions. Where was Jake? I was nearly as worried about him as I was Mila.

  Noelle told everyone about watching Mila walk by the room she was hiding in, of seeing the gun in Jordan’s hand. Calling 911 with the exact location of the downed men and the route Jordan was taking from the building before she called me. I owed her another big thank-you. More than likely, her call saved Mila’s life and hopefully that of the men sent here to help her.

  God, I hoped it did.

  “What about the other men?” I asked the officers.

  “The three we found together are still in surgery. The doctors think they have a good chance. The security guard didn’t make it to the operating room.”

  Silence descended, heavy with worry.

  Jake bolted into the room, trailed by another uniformed officer. I wasn’t sure if the policeman was following Jake for safety’s sake or chasing him down. “Mum’s straight. Rosemary Jones is being questioned, but Mum said all she’d done so far was whine about what a difficult child Mila was, how hard she tried to keep her safe.” He slammed into a chair across from me, out of breath and red-faced. The officer hovered at the entrance to the room. “How’s Mila?”

  “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 my 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 r
ung off.

  Now, a few hours late, 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.