Page 15

Pember swallowed and took another deep breath. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn’t until he tried to pull off the many layers of latex gloves that he noticed his hands were shaking. Badly.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Blake’s eyes softened, and he closed a gentle hand around Pember’s wrist. “It’s alright. Can I help?”

Pember bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Thanks.”

Blake hooked a finger under the lip of the outer glove. “You did well,” he said, the words barely above a whisper. “Wallace said you held your nerve and kept your head.”

Pember huffed, a deep flush creeping up his neck as he watched Blake peel it off. Thankfully, the forensic suits were notoriously cosy, so any rogue blushes could be blamed on the wearable greenhouse.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes trailing up to Blake’s face. “I won’t lie, this job isn’t at all what I expected. I mean, on paper it is, but the reality…” The words trailed off.

Blake raised a brow. “Completely different?”

Pember nodded. “In a totally unexpectedly draining kind of way. I… It’s hard to explain. I kinda love it, but hate it at the same time.”

Blake’s mouth cracked into an unexpected grin, canines grazing his lower lip. “I think you just summed up policing.”

Pember sucked in a breath. “I have a friend in the police. Oliver. The way he talks about it… He claims he hates it, but then says it’s his calling.”

Blake’s smile widened. “Oliver’s just a mess of contradictions. Always has been.”

“You know him? Well, I mean, you work in the same building, so of course you probably know him.”

Blake huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. I used to be his sergeant. We worked the Op Sceptre case together.”

The colour drained from Pember’s face. “Y-you did? So you know about?—”

“Yes.” Blake’s fingers tightened around his wrist. “Yes, I know about what Patrick did to you, and it?—”

“It won’t!” Pember blurted out.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Won’t what?”

“It won’t affect my ability to do the job, I promise it won’t. All that stuff last year was a mess, but I?—”

Blake held up a hand. “That wasn’t what I was suggesting. I only meant?—”

“That I might not be able to cope? That working this job might bring up…” He waved a hand as though trying to catch the words. “Some deep-buried trauma? It won’t, I swear, it won’t. I might be an omega, but I’m tougher than you think.”

Blake’s lip twitched and he levelled his eyes at Pember.

“I know you can do the job, I’m only saying you should ease yourself in.

You’re very new and you’re already photographing a murder scene.

Look, I’ve suggested to Wallace that one of the others help him with the pathologist, and you can go back to the lab to?—”

Pember snatched his hand away. “I knew it!” he said, shaking off the last remaining glove. “You think I’m mad. Just because I ran into you in the woods, a-and grabbed the parrot and… and forced you to eat beef stew!”

Blake coughed and dropped his gaze. “I think Val forced me to eat the stew. As for the parrot… it does my fucking head in.”

Pember’s mouth twitched and he let out a shaky laugh—partially from the adrenaline dump, but mostly from relief. “Y-yeah, well… what do you expect when your half-deaf owner shouts at you all day?”

Blake covered his mouth, eyebrows pulling together. “About that… There’s another reason I’d like you to finish on time.”

Pember tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Could you check on her? I’m going to be very late off tonight.”

Pember nodded, unzipping the front of his scene suit. “Yeah, of course. Do you want me to let George out?”

Blake shook his head. “No, thanks. George comes to work with me. He stays in the kennels during the day. With the police dogs.”

Pember dropped his gaze and nibbled his lip. “That’s kind of cute.”

Blake huffed. “It’s not. He comes home stinking of German shepherd and cannabis.” The alpha reached into his pocket. “Take this,” he said, handing Pember a business card. “Text me if something’s wrong. I can’t promise I’ll be able to come straight back, but I’ll try.”

Pember nodded, taking the card. “What should I do if she’s in the woods again?”

Blake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell her Rod Stewart’s come to whisk her away. If that doesn’t work, coax her with Wine Gums. But don’t give her too many or she’ll be up half the fucking night singing ‘Blondes Have More Fun.’”

Pember snorted as he peeled off the sweaty scene suit, but quickly dropped his face into a grave expression. “Sorry. Shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this.”

Blake shrugged. “It’s a coping mechanism. We all do it. Try and get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be full on.”

Pember cocked a brow. “Coming from you? Who the hell does exercise at four o’clock in the morning?” Then his face flushed, remembering he’d been caught red-handed. “O-oh and I… um… sorry, about that. I wasn’t watching you, you were just… there.”

Blake smirked, the expression dislodging a swarm of butterflies in Pember’s belly. “Oh? If you weren’t watching , what were you doing?”

Warmth bloomed across his cheeks. “I couldn’t sleep, and the stars were out so I just… You know.”

Blake exhaled softly. “I do. But next time wear a coat or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Oh, yeah. Will do.”

“Pember!” Duncan called from the van. “Come on, dude! Back to the lair.”

Maya slapped his arm. “Don’t call it a lair. You’re not Batman.”

Duncan dropped his head and pulled up his collar. “I’m not? But I am the night!”

Pember chuckled and shook his head. He glanced back up at Blake, who was watching him intently. “See you soon.”

“Yeah.”