Page 6 of Flint’s Strike

He nods, relief easing the tight lines around his eyes. “Fine. But for the love of milkshakes everywhere, don’t make me pick the lock again. Especially if you’re naked.”

A short, sharp laugh bursts out of my raw throat. “Pervert.”

“You’re practically my sister, Parker. I mean it. I’d never recover.”

I don’t remember eating. Though my stomach feels less hollow than it did earlier. Don’t remember going to bed either. Everything after seeing Dr. Morris is a blur. I wake with a choked sob, my legs tangled in the sheets, and a dim light glowing from the hall.

“Did you know giraffes and humans have the same number of neck bones? We got cheated, big time. Stakeouts would be so much easier if our necks were eight feet long.”

“Wh-what?” I struggle through a deep breath and focus on Nate’s lanky silhouette leaning against the bedroom doorframe.

“Giraffes. Humans. Seven neck bones. Blows the mind.” He gestures with both hands next to his temples, spreading his fingers to mimic an explosion as he shakes his head.

“How do you even know this shit?” My voice is rough, but my heart stops pounding and the ringing in my ears fades.

“I’m a man of many talents.” He shrugs, runs a hand through his hair, and straightens. “Get some sleep, Parker.”

For the next two days, Nate does his best to be as annoying as possible. The man knows enough random facts, he could play trivia at a different bar every night of the week and probably make bank.

He never asked if I wanted him to stay. And I don’t tell him to leave, though I should. He’s like an overprotective big brother—I want to strangle him and hug him at the same time.

Every once in a while, I catch him watching me too closely, like he’s waiting for me to fall apart. But when it happens, I do it like the eldest—and only—daughter I am. In the shower.

I think he knows. But he never makes it weird.

By the third day, I’ve swapped out the thick gauze covering my hands for regular bandages and steri-strips. I even manage to wash my coffee mug without much trouble.

Nate watches me set the “Decaf is a cry for help” cup in the drying rack, nods once, and grabs his keys off the counter.

“All right,” he says, like me wielding a bottle of dish soap settled something for him. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Try not to get lost.” I have to force strength into my tone. I need him to stop hovering, but I don’t truly want to be alone either. “And put on a hazmat suit before you open your fridge.”

His dry chuckle follows him out the door, and I lean against the counter. This is fine. I’m fine. Everything’s…fine.

Chapter One

Present Day

Parker

Nate’s Impala purrs as he shifts into fifth gear. The faintest whiff of french fries lingers in the air, which shouldn’t be possible given that the interior looks like it’s never seen even a single crumb. The man is fastidious to a fault, and I stare down at my dusty boots, amazed he didn’t make me polish them before he unlocked the door.

Through the window, I watch Austin’s steel and glass disappear, giving way to strip malls, big box stores, and more construction cranes than you can shake a stick at. By the time Nate takes the exit for Round Rock, I’ve read the incident report three times and I don’t have anything new to show for it.

He’s been drumming two fingers on the wheel since we left the station. “For the record,” he says, as his GPS directs him to Sam Bass Road, “I had today fully optimized. Color coded and everything. ‘Drive to suspicious fire in hundred degree heat’ was not on the spreadsheet.”

I don’t look away from the window. “What was on the spreadsheet?”

“Paperwork. Lunch at Dot’s, where you’d power through a milkshake in record time and I’d try to convince the owner, yet again, to put a damn salad on the menu. Followed by a very important two o’clock where I was going to aggressively do nothing for forty-five minutes.” His fingers drum even harder against the wheel. “I had a system.”

“You always have a system.”

“And yet,” he says, “here we are.”

The asphalt shimmers ahead of us like it’s about to melt. Texas doesn’t ease you into summer. It shoves you full force into a wall so stifling, it’s hard to breathe, then waits to see if you survive it.

I’ve been surviving it my whole life.