Page 11 of Criminally Yours

Strike’s eyes locked with hers, and he winked.

Adult Millie glared back.

The last time he saw her, she’d told him she was giving up her dream of studying to be a doctor, so in a year she’d join him at his university, even though it didn’t run courses in medicine. Softly, she’d said, “It doesn’t matter because, for you, I’ll give up everything to be where you are.”

If she hadn’t said that, maybe things would be different.

Millie nudged him. Her vanilla and berry scent had him dragging saliva into his throat. Her glare was unrelenting. It was what he needed. This was about safety, not reminiscing his failures.

Since he’d last seen her, he’d become a man who thought through every decision to ensure nothing went wrong.

In the darkness of the hallway, with someone beating down the door, he needed that skill more than ever.

Strike tugged her through the hallway and into the kitchen. It was immaculate. Millie’s mum was renowned for her perfectionism, which extended to how she treated her house and her children. She was the most overprotective parent. Had she told Millie about her part in his leaving?

He ran his fingers over a wooden photo frame positioned near the door. He’d made it from scraps of wood he’d found during the camping trip where he’d declared his feelings for Millie.

She yanked her hand out of his.

“Don’t touch that photo,” she snapped.

Grown-up Millie had curves and a body so soft that in another lifetime, he’d have done everything to have it beneath him. But now she hated him, and he needed her hate to fuel his focus.

The doorbell rang, and she gasped. He held his finger to her lips, and her eyes widened.

His finger lingered longer than necessary.

But he was a bodyguard now, not a teenager. He was a man who’d seen and done the worst things imaginable.

He dragged his finger away and grabbed the key from his pocket, slipping it into the backdoor and turning it with barely a click.

Chilled spring air hit his skin as he stepped into the back garden.

Her heat against his back threatened his resolve as he squinted left and right. Leaves crackled as a cat dared to test the boundaries of the garden, and feathers fluttered as a bird took flight.

“Cherry cola,” Millie murmured.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder. The tip of Millie’s tongue peeked out, and she licked where his finger had touched her.

His jaw slackened as her tongue swept her lips again.

Her eyes flashed to his, and she jumped away.

He stuttered, “Come with me. I came through the sneak route. Your parents still haven’t fixed it. They need to improve their safety measures.”

As he locked the door and returned the key under the rock, she said sardonically, “I’ll tell them how much you care.”

He tempered his bristling shoulders as they crept to the fence, where several planks had been moved to the side. The gap was his sneaky route when they were teenagers. He pushed her through and followed after her. His bulk made it difficult to slip through, but he’d already done it once that night.

As they reached the backdoor to his house, someone banged on the front.

His pulse sped, and the hairs on the back of his neck roselike red flags waving his impending doom, but adrenaline was his friend.

“Hide in here.” He eased open a now-empty kitchen cupboard.

“Are you fucking serious?” Millie hissed between gritted teeth.

“Yes.” The banging was relentless.