Page 12 of Criminally Yours

“How small do you think I am? Just because I’m not the size of a fucking action hero like you?—”

“You’ll fit, Millie. Get in.”

She stared back at him. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her nostrils flared. He needed to make her safe before she froze with terror. That he enjoyed controlling her, just as he had in his fantasies, was something he couldn’t fixate on.

“You never spoke to me like that when we were young, even when I pressed all your buttons.”

“News alert, we’ve both changed. Get in that fucking cupboard now, or I’ll throw you in,” he snarled.

She slunk to her knees and crawled in, grumping as she went.

Don’t linger on her obedience or the way her bum looks.He was usually so fucking professional that he pissed off his team, but five minutes in Millie’s presence and his thoughts jumbled.

“I told you you’d fit. Listen to me next time.” He shoved the glittery memory box in with her and closed the door.

“Fuck you,” she grunted, and he wiped off his smirk as he walked to the front door.

A ginger police officer with an earnest face and furrowed eyebrows greeted him as he opened the door.

He knew more about Millie than she realised. The only thing dangerous about her social media was the dark romances she read and that he’d enjoyed too much himself.

“Can I help you, officer?” Strike asked with an authoritative edge.

The officer pulled his shoulders back and eyeballed him, but his youthful face proved he’d not experienced the kind of life Strike had survived. “We’re looking for Millie Haven. She lived next door. I believe her parents still live there. Have you seen her?”

Strike scratched his chin, feigning ambivalence. “I haven’t seen her in ten years. I don’t live here. I’m packing. My parents are selling this house.”

“Are you sure you haven’t? Her car is parked down the street.”

“I’ve had my head down. I’m leaving soon.”

“Where are you going?”

His stomach flared, but he stilled his face. “I have a holiday booked in Wales and won’t be easily contactable,” he lied. Until he knew the facts, Millie was his to keep safe. “If there’s anything else I can help you with, call my office.”

With a move akin to a hedge fund manager rather than a former soldier who’d killed for his own safety, he slipped him a business card as another guy joined the officer.

Hugo Dankworth. He’d recognise the prick anywhere.

“You worked for my dad.”

Strike fought to stop his shoulders from hunching.I saved your good-for-nothing arse the night of a carol concert.“What’s Miss Haven supposed to have done?”

“We found her ID at a crime scene where a man was stabbed in a side street in London. We believe she was a witness.”

“She did it,” Hugo screeched. His pupils were dilated, and he rapidly tapped his fingers against his arm. He was back on coke or ketamine.

A flashback to a night involving someone closer to home, someone he’d rescued after Strike had found him unconsciousfrom drugs, pushed him to the edge. But that was something else Millie didn’t know, something he’d promised never to tell her. “I saw her run away as I came into the street. She stabbed a guy.”

Strike sucked in a breath. “Millie wouldn’t do that. She’s scared of her own shadow. From what my parents say when speaking to hers, she barely leaves her apartment.”

“Be that as it may, we still want to talk to her. If you see her, tell her to contact us immediately. She can come to the station and give her statement. If she’s done nothing wrong, she’ll be fine.”

“If that’s everything…”

“We should search his house. Maybe she’s here.” Hugo stamped his foot.

Strike lowered his voice to a growl. “Based on how you looked over my shoulder the entire time, you’ve seen enough. The house is empty. The movers came hours ago.”