Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  “It’s a simple fact. I hate you. I’ll always hate you. You destroyed the most important relationship in my life. You killed my baby.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be hurt that day, but I’m not sorry I destroyed the rock star’s spawn. He’s not meant to have you, Mila. You don’t want a connection to that type of man.”

  “I loved my baby, and I love Murphy. I always will. You—you’re just the sad, pathetic stalker who can’t get the woman he wants without threats and weapons.”

  His hand moved from my arm to my hair. He yanked it, hard. My head fell back against his shoulder and my eyes filled with tears but I met his stare with my own, willing him to see all the loathing I felt for him.

  “Go to the stairwell,” Jordan said.

  Much as I didn’t want to respond, didn’t want to look at him, my head hurt. “I can’t walk like this.”

  He let go of my hair, and I started to pull away. He pressed his palm to my throat and kept the gun pressed to the base of my skull.

  “You could just end this,” I said, my eyes steady. Part of me wondered why I should stave off the inevitable. Jordan would kill me, eventually. At least if he did so now no one else would be hurt. “Pull the trigger. You know I don’t want to go with you.”

  His eyes widened. “I don’t want to kill you. I love you. I want to take care of you.”

  I stepped away, wincing at the pain in my neck and my tender scalp. I put up my arms, motioning around us. “This isn’t love. This is psychotic.”

  His eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared. “Go down the stairs, Mila. Now.”

  I sped up so he wouldn’t touch me again. But that just meant he kept pace and we were that much closer to leaving the building. If I did, if I got in a car with him, I wouldn’t end this night alive.

  Two flights of stairs to disarm him. Right. I sucked in air, trying to fill my lungs with as much oxygen as possible. Muscles needed more air to work optimally.

  We came up on the door. If it was like many others, it would open with ponderous slowness and shut even more slowly. I couldn’t try to slam it against his wrist and get him to drop the gun. I stood at the large metal door, unwilling to push it open. The stairwell, like the lot outside, was too far from the slim protection of the armed guards Kevin sent, the ones who were even now bleeding out. Jordan growled as he reached around me, impatient to get out of there.

  I hadn’t learned enough in my defense classes to beat Jordan in hand-to-hand combat, but I practiced using a man’s bodyweight against him. It’s a basic tenet of the form: unbalance the already unstable. Over and over again, I’d practiced these moves. Had I known then I’d need the training?

  A siren screamed, bouncing off the high ceiling and the wide, empty hall. I flinched at the noise, as did Jordan. He turned his head toward the alarm. Noelle darted away from the red box, toward one of the doors. I shoved my left foot back between both of his and gripped his arm on the door. I used his body weight to carry him forward, over my left shoulder. His right hand—the one with the gun—flailed. Heat seared my ear as a bullet whizzed by my head. Jordan tumbled into the metal door, his head catching on the release bar.

  He dropped the gun as he tried to break his fall, his body still careening forward into the stairwell. I spun out from under his body and shoved as hard as I could, trying to force him off the first step. My ears roared with the blood filling them. Hope built. The more noise he made, the quicker someone would find us.

  Get away as fast as you can. You may only have seconds. Make them count. My self-defense instructor’s words filled my head, and I ran. I darted down the corridor, breathless from the adrenaline.

  The gun! Why didn’t I pick it up? My steps faltered but I pushed forward, unwilling to give up my small victory. Going back would be stupid.

  Should I find a place to hide? I didn’t want to get caught in a small, enclosed place without another exit, but I also didn’t want to stay in the hall where I was easy to spot—and easy to pick off with that gun.

  I swung round the corner and slammed into a much larger body. His arms slid up to my shoulders, steadying me as I glanced up. I met the concerned gaze of the heavyset security guard who’d warned me to shelter in place in the hospital’s atrium.

  “He’s behind me.” I wasn’t sure how loud I’d spoken. My ears were buzzing and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. The man shoved me behind him. As I turned, a scream built in my throat. Jordan, head bloodied, raised his gun. I didn’t see him pull the trigger or witness the flash, but the impact was instantaneous. The guard’s thick body flinched as if struck by a hard blow. I screamed as he started to fall. Jordan walked forward and his voice was loud enough for me to hear over the din in my head.

  “Don’t hide from me.”

  He’d shot at least four people tonight. Plus Hank at the hotel pool. And those were just the people I knew about. He trained the gun on me, right in the middle of my chest. The barrel moved up, to the left. Every muscle in my body tightened to quivering urgency.

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

  The ringing in my ears distorted his voice, but I was sure I’d heard Murphy scream my name. Jordan’s facial features filled with loathing, and I could see in his eyes that he planned to shoot again. Shoot Murphy.

  “Because you want to control my feelings. My body. My love. And you can’t.”

  I lunged forward. Jordan’s eyes widened as my body flew into motion. He wouldn’t hurt Murphy. I’d lost our baby, but I would not lose Murphy, too. Even if . . . even if he didn’t want me forever, even if I was just a passing fancy to him, Murphy deserved his chance at life, at happiness, and that meant ending this standoff. Now.

  Whatever Jordan read in my face caused him to flinch back. The bullet hit, ripping through my skin, shattering bone.

  I screamed, but the sound dulled as the pain hit. I looked at Jordan, eyes wide, mouth open as I gasped for air. He rushed toward me, arms outstretched as I fell to my knees. I reached for the gun, ignoring the searing heat against my palm as I ripped at the barrel.

  He called my name as I pulled harder, adrenaline spiking as I needed it. “Mila!” he sobbed.

  The gun. Get the gun away from him so he wouldn’t shoot Murphy.

  28

  Murphy

  Noelle’s frantic call said Jordan planned to lead her from the building by the south entrance. I kept running. They’d last been up here. Thanks to Kevin’s insane driving skills, we made it to the hospital in under twenty minutes, an impossible feat that nearly killed us half a dozen times. Not that I was complaining. Fast. She must know the odds of being found were low once she left the building. She’d figure out how to stay here.

  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 jump
ed 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 yo
u 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?”