Page 132 of The Night Shift
It should be gross. Perhaps, it is. But I can’t bring myself to care. I want him to do it again. Preferably lick my spit off someplace else this time.
“So, what now?” I ask as an icy breeze picks up, whipping my hair into my face. I adjust my beanie and tuck the loose strands behind my ears.
Theo steps forward and rubs his hands over my sweater arms to create heat. “I don’t really know, but we could break into the building and check it out.”
“We drove all the way out here on a Sunday night, and you’re telling me you don’t even have a plan?”
“Would it help if I lied and said I do?” He tugs me closer and slides his hands through the holes of my sweater, fingers wrapping around my wrists, rubbing warmth into my skin.
The touch sends a spark of electricity straight to a very specific spot between my legs. I shove him away, harder than necessary. “Would it help if I lied and said I don’t want to stab you right now?”
“Please, stop. My pants can’t get any tighter, love.”
This fucking bastard. Lips pressed tight, I turn back to the car.
His hand curls lightly around my arm, stopping me mid-step. “All right, all right, I’m sorry.”
My eyes flit down to where his fingers rest, then up to meet his. He hesitates for a second before releasing me. “Sorry,” he mutters again. “Let’s just go inside and have a look, okay? If the guy who attacked you actually worked here, I’m pretty sure we’ll find something. A clue, maybe.”
“A cluemaybe? This isn’t some eighties detective show. What clue? Where do we even start?”
But Theo’s already halfway to the building, his long, slender legs widening the distance between us. I break into a half-jog to go after him.
He picks up a brick and turns it over in his hand. “I can smash the window with this.”
“Or your face,” I say, catching up to him.
“And deny you the pleasure of looking at it? Never, Hollister.” He taps the brick against his palm once, twice, then lightly against the bottom corner of the window, as if calculating how hard he’ll need to hit it.
My pulse spikes. I glance around nervously. The street is quiet with only the faint hum of streetlights above. But just because it looks dead doesn’t mean it actually is. “We need another way to get in,” I say, taking a step closer. “I’m serious, Theo. Don’t do this.”
He pauses, the corners of his lips tugging up in a devilishly charming smile. He drops the brick at his feet and jerks his head toward the side of the building. “Come on.”
Confused, I follow him into the alley beside the building, my footsteps soft against the cracked pavement. We stop at a side entrance — rusted, paint flaking away like old wallpaper. He crouches and pulls a slim leather pouch from his jacket pocket.
He opens it.
A lockpicking kit.Of, course, he has a fucking lockpicking kit.
Still smiling and saying nothing, he selects two slender picks. Within seconds, there’s a softclickas the lock snaps open. He steps inside the building. I follow.
The building is dark and quiet. Old shelves filled with dusty wires and tools run along one side. A couple of metal desks sit near the back, cluttered with loose papers, an empty coffee cup, a shiny, blue purse, some pens, piles and piles of folders. The air smells faintly of something damp. Empty, cold, and still.
Theo has his phone in his mouth, flashlight on, as he sorts through a filing cabinet. I wander over to one of the metal desks, fingers brushing through a layer of dust, and tug open a drawer. It’s mostly junk — loose papers, a calculator, an empty stapler. But since neither of us knows how to hack a computer for digital “clues,” we’re not exactly spoiled for options.
Theo moves to another cabinet, rifling through folders while I fiddle with a stack of Post-it notes. This feels pointless. Itispointless. What the fuck are we even looking for? I click an empty ballpoint pen a few times before tossing it back into the drawer.
A loud clatter.
I spin around. Theo’s standing there, slamming one of the cabinet drawers shut while an entire carton of loose connectors now lies scattered across the floor.
“Did you manage to find something or was that just to alert the entire neighbourhood?”
Theo looks at me, his phone still hanging from his mouth.
“You look like a dog with a slipper.”
He grins, then pulls it out. “Woof.”
