14. Strike
Strike
Strike dropped back to the bed, staring at the screen.
He couldn’t be impulsive, not now and not when Millie was in danger.
She studied him, their plans forgotten.
He swiped to answer as Millie said, “Who—”
Strike held his finger to her lips as he had at her house the day before. Millie’s eyes widened, and he yanked his hand away.
“Strike,” he said gruffly.
“It’s Randolph Dankworth.”
Strike knew precisely who it was. His number was saved in Strike’s phone because Strike vowed never to work with him and his family again.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dankworth. How can I help?”
Millie trembled, and Strike stilled her shaking hands with his. She needed him to be the authoritative, demanding robot. This he could do.
“My son tells me he bumped into you last night.”
Weird way to phrase it, Millie mouthed, proving she’d heard Randolph. She sat close, and the Deputy Prime Minister bellowed as if he believed volume exerted his authority for him. Strike preferred to show his dominance quietly. When people trusted you, you didn’t need to shout.
“Hugo came to my parents’ house while I was packing. The police accompanied him.”
“He’s searching for your neighbour. Have you seen her?”
Strike’s bodyguard senses tingled at Randolph’s eagerness. “Former neighbour. No, sir, I haven’t. I’m in Wales on my holiday. Alone.”
“You haven’t driven to Bear and Liss’s place in Devon then?”
How does he know? she mouthed.
Strike deliberated his options. “No. Surely you wouldn’t use your wife’s position within the police to track my company’s vehicles. It’s almost like you’re searching for Millie because of something you know.”
It was reckless, but he wanted to fuck this guy up as much as he’d wanted to punch his son the night before.
Strike gritted his teeth and returned to his breathing exercises as Randolph laughed. It was the same sneering laugh he used when debating in the House of Commons.
“Nothing like that. She was implicated in a stabbing, and my son is worried for her.” Millie closed her eyes, sadness lining her forehead.
“We’re very aware of knife crime in this family, and we want to ensure that if she witnessed anything, we find out the truth.
I wonder why she’s avoiding the police.”
Pressure built in Strike’s chest. When he lost control of a situation, anxiety left him frozen or ready to hurt someone. The breathing exercises weren’t working. Millie wrapped her arms around him. The pressure eased a little, but his heartbeat thudded.
She scratched her nails lightly up and down the back of his neck like she had in the past.
“I can’t help you, sir. I’m in Wales. If you’ve monitored any of our vehicles—not that you would, because that’s illegal—you’ve probably seen another member of my team driving toward Devon.” They could’ve put a tracker on his four-by-four last night before he moved it back in the garage.
“Interesting.” Strike fisted his spare hand. Randolph treated those who worked for him with the same disdain he treated his family. “I need your help to track down Miss Haven.”
“I’m a bodyguard, not a mercenary.” He couldn’t be a robot when this prick was testing Millie’s safety. He stood, stepping away from her, as anxiety swirled in his gut. Her face fell.
“I’d never want something like that.” Randolph’s tone lowered. “You have a good reputation, but with one word from me, you’ll lose clients.”
Strike bared his teeth, and Millie gasped. He hated that she was scared of him, but she didn’t know him anymore. “I’ll send you numbers of people who might be able to help,” he lied.
“I’d appreciate that. Goodbye, Strike.”
Strike hung up the phone. He turned to walk out of the room, but Millie grabbed him, holding him tight.
His arms slowly slipped around her. This was dangerous. But as she tucked her head against him, his heart rate regulated, matching hers.
“I’m here for you, Strike. It’s going to be okay. I know a lot of techniques for anxiety.”
He eased her away. He wasn’t a client she could fix with a couple of words and techniques.
“I’ve got things to do. I’ll drop off your laptop and phone shortly.”
Millie forced a grateful smile.
The past was repeating, and with it came danger.