42. Strike
Strike
Strike stripped off his jeans, and returned to the bed to watch Millie sleep. He’d managed a perimeter check and called Bear, but she hadn’t moved from where he’d left her aside from removing her dressing gown.
Witnessing her come to his demands made him so fucking hard that the perimeter check was a necessity to calm down. He ran through his list of risks to ensure he was keeping her completely safe, but her nakedness was distracting.
He traced her nipple while she slept, and she shifted slightly, moaning.
She’d been so exhausted after their time in the bathroom that she’d fallen asleep quickly. He was proud of her for conquering her fears, but it made him want to possess her.
“What time is it?” she asked, arching as he ran his fingertips between her thighs.
“It’s about three in the afternoon.” He pulled her close. He couldn’t get enough of touching her. “I wanted to do a perimeter check. I shouldn’t be on edge, but I’ve got this feeling that something isn’t right,” he said, his voice tight with worry.
“I’ve always trusted your instincts. Since that day in Pickle Park,” she said.
He murmured at the memory.
Not long after Bear moved in, they went to the park, where he and Bear kicked a football around while Millie read.
At some point, three lads joined them, and they played together, but early on, Strike texted Millie, telling her to go home because something was off.
She’d started walking immediately, but one of the new guys watched her.
Millie stroked his cheekbones, remembering how he’d cut it in a fight with the lads. Fifteen minutes after Millie left the park, Strike texted, asking her to meet him and Bear in the shed. They’d arrived with cuts on their hands and Strike sported a swollen eye.
“You never told me everything that happened that day,” she said.
“There was something about those guys. I couldn’t work it out, but they weren’t safe. After you left, they sized up me and Bear.”
“They didn’t know you were boxing bad boys.” Millie held his knuckles to her lips and kissed them softly.
“Exactly.” He was already breathless from her caress.
“Your instincts told you it would turn into a fight?”
“Yes, but the way they looked at you stirred something in me.” He yanked his T-shirt off from behind and pulled her closer.
“Worry?”
“Jealousy. No one got to look at you like that.” He rolled her onto her back and pinned her hands above her. “You were mine, even then.”
She opened her thighs, and he settled between them. He dove in for a kiss, and she writhed, wrapping her legs around his waist as they made out. He kept her wrists pinned with one hand while his other pinched her nipple. She whimpered into his mouth.
“Do you like a bit of pain with your pleasure?” he growled in her ear.
“I think so. I’m not sure.”
“We’ll learn together.”
They kissed for a while, his hands exploring as she ground herself against him. His cock pressed against his boxers, pre-cum leaking onto the material, but he didn’t remove them. This was enough for now. He sucked her neck, leaving his mark on her skin.
Her chest heaved as his hand slid between her thighs.
“Soaking for me,” he murmured before pressing his fingers between his lips and sucking them clean. “You taste so damn good.”
He eased up. He needed to slow down. He was obsessed with her.
She snuggled against his chest. “You said your instincts are kicking in now,” Millie said, referring to the perimeter check. “How come?”
“Bear believes a firm that doesn’t have the same ethics as us was hired to track you. They’re ex-forces, but there was a rumour they did corrupt things on manoeuvres.”
Her heart beat against his body. Where his was frantic, hers was steady. “I’ve had an idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
He side-eyed her. “Based on that introduction, I already don’t. What is it?”
“We should visit Randolph at his house.”
He sucked in a breath. “He could help us with a deal. He can’t want this to get in the press.
It would tank his career. Maybe he can make Hugo confess.
I could refer him to a counsellor who might, once they’ve reviewed him, testify for him.
Hugo could have a reduced sentence and go into a rehabilitation programme. ”
“You’d support Hugo after what he’s done?”
“If I saw remorse.”
Strike kissed her forehead. “You’re a better person than me. I want him locked up for life.”
“For real?”
“I want all people who’ve hurt you behind bars.” Or dead. He twisted strands of her hair around his finger.
“We could ask him to give us a few days and to keep everyone away. Maybe Luke will get the video in that time, too. He’s close, isn’t he?”
“He thinks so.”
“Is Randolph reasonable?”
“He’s more reasonable than his coke-addict son.
When I was Randolph’s bodyguard on a tour of Africa, none of his behaviour was questionable, but there was something.
He’d talk about how he liked visiting different countries because it meant he could get involved in ‘all sorts of activities.’ One night, I walked in on him talking to a local child.
He shouted at me for not protecting him.
He said the boy was mugging him, but that wasn’t how it looked.
It was as if he was doing some sort of deal with the terrified kid.
I was adamant we wouldn’t work with them again.
He asked me to come clay pigeon shooting once for fun.
He laughed when I said it wasn’t my thing... I’m rambling.”
“You’re processing. I trust your instincts. If you don’t want to go, we won’t.”
“Let me talk to Bear. I might be struggling because it’s you. He’ll consider it from a removed perspective, and together, we’ll consider the risks.”
She traced his skin with her fingertip. He shivered as she ran it from his throat down his bare chest.
“How bad can it go, really?”
He froze beneath her hand, and she scooted closer and stared into his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything except the past.
“Strike, what is it?”
He closed his eyes under her inspection. “It’s not about going to see Randolph Dankworth.”
Her hands tremored as she cupped his face. “Then what’s it about? Please tell me.”