Page 186 of The Night Shift
The sharp scent of the disinfectant mixed with water cuts through the iron tang of blood. My earlier common sense tells me to justlet him do his thing, he’s had enough practice by now, but I move to help anyway.
He scolds me for it and I decide to smack him for it later.
Once the body is all wrapped and secured, Theo starts scrubbing the blood from the tiles.
I lean against the counter and watch with my arms crossed. I feel like the stepmother fromCinderellawatching him scrub the floors. A part of me feels bad. Not for the corpse. For Theo. I hate that he always gets caught up in my mess. I’m not saying he’s some innocent bystander — he’s far from it, actually, but still.
He pauses, tucking the mop under his injured arm as he pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead.
I start pouring some cleaner over the bloodstains, making it easier for him to scrub. I don’t care if he doesn’t want my help. I want to get this over with so that I can crawl into my bed faster.
Theo glances up, one brow arching in silent disapproval, but he doesn’t say anything. He keeps on mopping, and I keep on pouring the cleaner. The quiet is interrupted by the buzz of his phone.
“Could you get that for me, please?” he asks, still focused on the floor.
“You want me to check your phone?”
“Given that I have a tracker on yours, it seems only fair.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Back pocket. Do try and cop a feel in the process.”
I roll my eyes and set the cleaner down before stepping behind him. Lifting the hem of his sweater, I slide my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. The fabric is warm from his body heat, stretched snug over the firm muscle of his butt. We both ignore the way my fingers linger a second too long before pulling out the demon device. The buzzing sounds are still going. I glance at the screen.
Emily: Thanks for calling me today. Oh, that’s right, you DIDNT.
Emily: I’m expecting a massive make-up present.
Emily: THEOOOO.
Emily: Are you awake???
A sharp-edged knife manifests in my chest. Who the hell is Emily?
“Who is it?” Theo barely glances up from where he’s still mopping.
I keep my tone casual. “Someone named Emily wants to know why you haven’t called her today.” Today. As in he calls her every other day.
“Ah, shit. I totally forgot about that.”
“Yeah, and she soundstotallydevastated too.” There’s a bite in my voice that I refuse to acknowledge, but Theo catches it. I know he does because when he finally looks up at me, he’s smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing.” His tone is infuriatingly light. “So um, what else does Emily want?”
“She wants to know if you’re awake. Should I tell her you’re busy cleaning up human remains?”
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head, still grinning. “That will definitely terrify the poor thing. And she’s been through enough already. What with all the sitting around and waiting for my call all day.”
“How tragic.”
He bites back a laugh like this is funny. I tighten my grip on his phone, resisting the urge to throw it straight into the bucket of bloody water.
“You can put it back in my pocket,” he says, far too entertained. “I’ll call her later.”
I scoff. Is he serious?I’ll call her later?Does he really have someone else? Another woman waiting for his call, wondering where he is? Immediately, I cringe. So, what if he does? It’s not like the two ofusare anything.It’s not like Iwantus to be. We’ve only been fucking. That’s all this has ever been. And honestly, maybe this is a sign to get my shit together and put a stop to that too. Why did I ever think I was the only one? He’s never said I’m the only one he’s been stalking. Maybe he’s got an entire lineup of women whose locations he’s tracking. A whole fucking roster. The thought makes me queasy.
I shove his phone back into his pocket with more force than necessary and snatch the mop from his hand. “I can clean this up myself.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
