23. Strike
Strike
An hour to get to the safe zone. But that wouldn’t stop him replaying how he’d fucked up.
Strike ran through all the things he would have done differently, but he couldn’t focus on anything but his mistakes.
Memories of the past, of losing his friend, teetered on the edge of his consciousness as Millie ran her hands over his head and Cam drove them at speed.
He tried to ease her away. “I didn’t get shot.”
“Let me check,” she snapped. She trembled against him.
“You’re getting blood on your hands.”
“I don’t care. I need to know you’re okay.” Tears brimmed her eyes.
He grabbed her hands. She was the focus he needed, pulling him from the past. “Mixie, I’m fine.” He brushed kisses to her forehead, easing away when she took a deep breath. “I need you safe. Put your seatbelt on.”
“There’s sterile wipes in the first aid box under the seat,” Cam shouted.
Strike grabbed them and cleaned his hands. He clicked Millie’s seatbelt in and then his own.
“Hands, Doc.” He stared her down until she held them out. Caring for and taking control of this woman whose presence could make his throat constrict and his heart flutter absorbed his anxiety.
With their seatbelts on, they needed to twist their bodies, but eventually, she turned to him. Gently, he stroked the wipe across her palm. He sensed her brown eyes on his head.
“I banged it when I pushed the lawyer behind the wall,” he mumbled.
“I was terrified for you.”
“I’ve faced worse than that.” He released a slow breath, shuddering at the memory of the incident that convinced him to leave the army. “I was worried about you. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. Ever.”
“I’m okay. I’m not the one with a head wound.”
His pulse slowed. She touched his head again, and he didn’t pull away, focusing on cleaning every last drop of his blood from her skin.
“The blood has ruined your beautiful dark blond hair.”
“Maybe I’ll have to shave it all off.”
“Don’t you dare. It’s your only redeeming feature.”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers as he scrunched the wipe. If she needed banter, he’d give it to her. “Not my cute smile or my ripped body? What about my personality?”
“Your personality is the worst. And don’t get me started on those rock-hard abs and thighs like tree trunks.”
“You’ve noticed?” he teased, his breath steadying.
Cam pulled up onto a dead-end road. “What the hell happened, and how did they know Millie would be there? Who’s the leak?”
“Cameras,” Strike warned, surveying the buildings around them.
“There’s none. We’re safe.”
Millie fisted her hands as Strike opened the door. He needed to make plans with Cam, but leaving her side pained him.
He leaned back in. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“What happened back there?” Cam asked as Strike joined him outside. “Who can we trust?”
“Not the police.” Strike paced, his gaze barely wavering from the area around them except when he checked on Millie. “The people who knew where we’d be and when were Bear, Liss, Casey, and her boss. And us.”
He counted the people off with his fingers.
“So either Casey or her boss leaked it because it sure as shit wasn’t us.”
He sensed Millie opening her door. At her hum, he walked toward her. “You’re staying in the car, just in case.”
“Okay. But I don’t want to believe it was Casey, even with our shared history. I don’t want you to be betrayed,” Millie said softly, turning so her legs hung out of the car.
His legs rested between her thighs.
His phone vibrated and he held it so all three of them could hear. “Casey, you’re on speaker. Tell me who let it slip, because it’s only luck stopping me from being in a body bag right now.”
“Dramatic much?” Casey snapped.
He reached behind Millie and passed her the fidget tool. She was scratching her arms again.
“I’m serious, Casey.”
“I don’t know what to think, okay? My boss told a couple of trusted people. I don’t understand what happened.”
“You’ve got a leak.”
“I need you to know it wasn’t me.” Her voice strained. “Millie, it wasn’t. I promise. I was a shit to you when we were at school, but I’ve got your back.”
“I know,” Millie replied.
“And I’m sorry for the things I said and did.”
Strike wiped the tears staining Millie’s cheeks with his thumb as she twisted the tool to its breaking point.
“Strike said you went through some stuff at home,” Millie stuttered.
“Yeah.” Casey’s voice was tight. “But it’s no excuse.”
“We all do stuff we regret as teenagers,” Millie replied. Strike’s brow furrowed, but she looked at the roof. He clicked his fingers. He wanted her eyes on him. She raised her brow as she stared back. “You’re helping people in your job now, and you probably saved my life today.”
“I guess.”
“If you want to chat about the past and what was going on, call Strike sometime, and we can speak,” Millie said.
“Thanks, that’s kind. I’ll take you up on that.” Exhaustion threaded through Casey’s voice.
“Counsellor curse. I always want to support people. And it might help me move on, too,” she said.
“Okay.” Casey sighed. “So the shooter disappeared quickly, but he left forensics, including DNA. It’ll take a while to get it through the system, and we might not get a match, but I promise I will find him. They used a shotgun. Only an amateur would use a shotgun.”
“Professionals use rifles,” Strike confirmed.
“So it was Hugo?” Millie’s voice wobbled.
“Probably. But I want to know who told him where we’d be,” Strike replied. “There are no trackers on this vehicle. We checked.”
“Millie, I recommend Strike take you to a safe place. I don’t want to know where. The fewer people who know, the better. You need to bed down while we do forensics. We need a reason to bring Hugo in for questioning, and without your statement or proof, we can’t.”
“In the meantime, Luke will continue to work on Millie’s phone to get the video. We will get this bastard,” Strike said, flexing his spare hand. Tension still twisted his organs.
“I’ll be in touch. Stay safe, everyone.”
The phone went dead.
“I guess you two are going to Cornwall,” Cam stated.
Millie twisted her tool quicker. “Strike, please come in the back so I can sort out your wound.”
He couldn’t deny her anything.
“I’ll drive us to the safe zone while she fixes you up,” Cam said with a shrug.
Strike climbed back in the car and pressed himself against Millie. She nudged her glasses up her nose as Cam started the car.
“This is going to hurt.” She dabbed a sterile wipe around his wound. A crease formed beneath her eyes, and he pushed a tendril of hair away from her face.
At her brief smile, he hissed. “Are you enjoying hurting me?”
His hand gripped her thigh, his fingers digging into her flesh. He squinted at her swallowing throat. “Do you have a pain kink, Doc?”
She shook her head and smiled. “No, but you have a danger one.” She cleaned the area around the wound with antiseptic.
He winced and grumbled.
“I thought they called you the robot,” she said, applying a temporary plaster.
The softness of her fingers had him sneaking a look at her lips. His fantasies teetered between her open mouthed and on her knees to him holding her close as they snuggled.
“I guess I can’t be one around you.”
She smiled bashfully as her gaze dropped to his mouth. She sucked on her lower lip, and he resisted the temptation to trace the action with his finger, instead lacing her fingers with his.
“I’m glad you’re wearing my wristband,” he said, glancing at her wrist before touching his forehead, now covered with the plaster. “Thank you for your great work, Sunset.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her skin flushed pink.
Cam called out, “Next stop, safe zone. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Millie’s throat bobbed as she stared at Strike.