Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

43. Duplicity

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Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. . .

A large knot formed in my stomach as I looked through the peephole. I was not ready to face him. I stood in front of the door, unable to move until he knocked on the door a second time. I hastily forced my breathing to calm and smoothed my hair over the bruise on the left side of my face, then with a shaking hand, I slowly reached for the doorknob.

Striker pushed the door wide open the instant I turned the knob, dropping his black case on the floor and hanging his brown sunhat on my coat rack before wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace. He quite literally swept me off my feet, briefly swaying me from side to side.

Despite my reeling head, the display of affection brought a small smile to my face. "I take it you missed me."

Striker buried his face in the crook of my neck, sharply inhaling my scent. "Mm," he sighed, his voice rumbling in his chest. "Fuck, yeah. You know how boring it is stakin' out in a little ol' shack for three weeks straight with nothin' to do? Just you alone with your thoughts, your guns, and your rations."

I bit my lip, my hands falling to his shoulders to stabilize myself.

"Y'know, there were days I wanted to come back here and fuck you senseless," he murmured as he set me back on my feet. He cupped my cheeks in his hands and gently pressed his lips to mine. "But shit, I'm just glad to be back."

I simply smiled at him, unable to find the words as my mind became shrouded with doubt.

He doesn't really mean that, does he?

"I gotcha somethin'," he said, reaching into his jeans pocket. "Here."

He pulled out what appeared to be a copper pendant on a black cord, then placed the cord over my head. I looked down at the pendant now hanging from my neck, holding it between my fingers to examine it more closely.

"It's a rattle," I said. "How did you know about rattlesnakes?"

"C'mon, it's not like I don't know anything about the human world," he countered with a smirk.

I jostled the pendant in my fingers, causing the solid copper segments to make a quiet rattling sound.

"It's pretty," I said softly. "Thank you." A small, humored smile tugged at my lips. "Now I have my own rattle to shake when I'm upset," I quipped.

He mirrored my grin, but it quickly faded when his eyes fell on the side of my face, his fingers pushing my hair out of the way. "What happened?"

My stomach lurched. "It's . . . It's nothing."

A glare began to form on his face, and his eyes flashed with a suppressed anger. "Who did it?"

"No one," I answered quietly, my anxiety building.

"I know that wasn't no accident," he said, raising his voice slightly. "Who the fuck did it?"

"It — It was a patient at work," I sputtered, shrinking from him. "He was confused and combative, and he hit me while we were trying to restrain him. . ."

Striker roughly took my jaw in his hand, briefly glancing at my bruise before looking me sternly in the eye.

"It's true, Striker," I said. "You can ask my coworkers. H-He was a drunk going into withdrawals. He got our tech in the ribs, too."

Slowly, he began to relax, though he still had that stern expression on his face. Letting out a gruff sigh, he pushed my hair behind my ear and gingerly planted his lips on my left temple. A surge of fear went through me, causing me to flinch at the contact, and Striker pulled back. He watched me carefully for a moment, then frowned, apparently thinking he had hurt me with his kiss.