6. Millie
Millie
Breathing in the oppressive air, Millie tightened herself into a ball in the hidden compartment under the seat of Strike’s blacked-out four-by-four.
Sneaking her into it after he’d driven the car into the garage so he could “pack the last of his boxes” was a good idea, but she wasn’t giving him credit for anything else.
As they backed out of the driveway, the policeman said something indistinguishable. From what she picked up, the officer, or possibly Hugo, insisted Strike open his window.
She held her breath. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she refused to cry as they rifled through the boot.
“As I said, I’m on my own,” Strike responded. Although he’d changed physically, and his personality made him appear removed, there were aspects of the old him pushing through the cracks.
The officer mumbled something.
“I hope you find her,” Strike replied. A whirring sound filled the car as it meandered down the road. “Millie, I’ll let you out on the edge of town once we’re safely away from people.”
She wriggled, stretching her hands and feet. She’d heard everything when the police officer was at his front door.
Her hatred of him wasn’t abating, but the way he’d covered for her suggested she could trust him, at least with this, although his comment about her barely leaving her apartment stung.
He didn’t deserve to know anything about her.
But she needed him in order to escape. She’d left everything apart from her now smashed phone and fidget tool in her car.
She took a breath. The hidden compartment was only big enough for a large man, so at least she wasn’t claustrophobic.
It was as dark as the night of the camping trip she’d taken with Caleb, the night they first kissed. As stars filled the sky, he’d asked her to be his girlfriend. It was the second-best night of her life.
It was hard to believe the same guy had explained tonight’s plan briefly before acting it out with military precision.
Her parents didn’t talk about him. Her mum never liked him, although their dads were close. It was ironic that even though she’d given up medicine for him initially, the truth was she’d never wanted to study it.
He had been an excuse. When she’d declared to him she wanted to study at his university, it was more like a way out.
Caleb hadn’t just been an opportunity to get away from her parents and have agency over her future, but she’d thought it would help.
Instead, her mum had believed her decision was based on an infatuation and whim.
With her hands tight by her side, she wriggled her forehead to try and secure her glasses, huffing when they dropped down her nose again.
I need a distraction.
She ticked off plans in her head for which clients she needed to tell she was taking a break and who to contact in her absence.
But the memory of Strike demanding obedience as he shouted at her to get in the cupboard, his biceps flexing and his eyes piercing, sneaked into the recesses of her mind, warming her cheeks.
The car slowed to a stop. It was only when she tasted a coppery metallic tang that she realised she’d bit the inside of her mouth while thinking about his demands.
Leather creaked as Strike opened the seat.
Her pulse skittered.
Wherever they were, it was dark, but she could still see the ice blue of his eyes as he studied her. They’d been imprinted on her soul for years. She’d see them if she were locked in a coffin and underground, an attractive prospect right now.
“You can get out. We’re safe.” He flipped on the car light.
She pushed away the hand he held out to help her, nearly tripping as she climbed out of the car.
“Get in the front seat. We’ll be driving for hours.”
Fisting her hands, she squared her glare at him. Her rage filled the spaces fear couldn’t control. “Drop me at the nearest airport.”
“No chance. Get in the car, Millie.”
“Only if you take me to the airport. I’m not going anywhere else with you. You work for the Dankworths.”
He stepped closer, and she stumbled back. Her skin warmed at the unrelenting way he tracked her.
“I own my own business with Bear. Your safety is my priority. We need to cover two hundred miles before daylight.” He stepped closer again.
Moonlight highlighted the muscles testing the seams of his dark green jumper. He flexed his hands as he neared her. His forearms pulsed in time with his steps.
“But the airport’s an hour away.” She took a deep breath, refusing to be fragile, even when faced with his solid, towering body. “I’ll stay with Dexter in Sweden and decide my next steps.”
Her spine stiffened. Leaves rustled under her feet, and her gaze flicked to his surly stare. She backed away, gasping when she smacked against a tree.
“I’m one of the few people who can keep you safe.
You’re not leaving my side until I sort this out.
” Strike loomed closer until their toes touched.
He still smelt of the familiar scent that covered her body ten years earlier.
Her heart raced at his proximity, the memories thwarting her focus.
“You either get in the passenger seat, or I shove you back in the box under me.”
“Fuck you.”
The muscle pulsating in his jaw transfixed her. Her breath hitched as she realised she was trapped in a way she wanted. Her throat tightened. She hated herself for craving it.
“Don’t fucking try me, Millie. It’s my job to keep you safe.” His hands bracketed her, blocking her exit.
“Your job? Since when? Since the day you broke my heart and fucked off out of my life?”
His flinch was nearly imperceptible.
She ducked under his arms and ran.
She’d barely gotten a metre before he gripped her waist.
His fingers pressed into the curve of her hips as he lifted her. Her breath caught. No one but he had touched her like this. She couldn’t let him get to her, not again.
She thrashed against him, but he was all muscle and power. He turned her so that their lips were inches apart.
“I hate you,” she growled.
“Noted.” He threw her over his shoulder before striding to the car and easing her into the passenger seat. Vanilla and sandalwood covered his skin, and she fought not to breathe him in as he gently tucked her legs in and leaned in to put the seatbelt across her.
“Why do you smell like teenage Caleb? Strike the bastard is the opposite of that smiling, happy teenager.”
His face turned, his lips brushing her ear. They were softer than she remembered. She held her breath.
“I spilt my old aftershave over me while clearing my room. I’ll shower it off as soon as we’re somewhere safe.” He pinned her with his stare for what felt like minutes before adding, “And trust me. I don’t have anything in common with that kid. That was the past.”
He wasn’t Caleb. She needed to ditch the memories she’d held onto against her better judgment.
“I liked that guy, at least for a while,” she whispered.
Strike froze before jumping back and righting himself.
“Don’t move,” he grumbled as he slammed her door.
He strolled to his side. Millie tracked him through the windscreen. He had the slow gait of a slasher movie killer. Occasionally, his gaze flicked around them as if checking for risks before returning to her. She flipped him the bird.
He rolled his eyes, and the corner of his mouth quirked briefly as he climbed into the car.
She cleared her throat. His comments about his identity piqued her counsellor’s curiosity. “Did something happen in the army to change you?”
“Don’t psychoanalyse me, Doc.”
At her choking noise, he stared at her. Goosebumps rose on her skin.
A wave of her hair fell from behind her ear, and he reached out his hand as if to tuck it back.
Suddenly, he pulled away and gripped the steering wheel.
“You can’t fix me with chat, Mixie. No one can. Get that into your head, as we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I’m not leaving your side until you’re safe.”