Page 31

SHIFT

Pember

The police van rocked, making the foul-smelling water drip from their clothes and onto the rubber matting.

Johnny and Tay were bickering at the front, and Pember couldn’t tell if they were arguing or if it was just how they communicated.

Either way, the inside of his cheek was red raw from trying not to laugh, and when they passed the sign for West Newton, the van jolted and Blake’s shoes squelched.

“This isn’t funny,” Blake muttered, hunched in his seat whilst nonchalantly wiping his glasses.

“I’m not laughing.” Pember snorted, glancing at the two clean patches around Blake’s eyes. “In fact, I’m currently mourning the loss of your tie.”

Blake tutted, running the sodden material between his thumb and forefinger. “My dad got me this tie for my thirtieth birthday.” He huffed, yanking it free and dropping it onto the floor with a wet slap.

Pember liked it too. It had been navy blue with little white swallows darting across the centre. Now it was just a brown mess.

Upon exiting the tent, they’d both been wrapped in foil blankets and unceremoniously shoved into the back of a riot van. The blankets were more for the general public’s benefit than theirs, because the sight of two people covered head to toe in blood would probably stir up a media frenzy.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Pember chuckled. “But try not to get too grumpy about it.”

“So says the man in a full protective suit and waders.”

“These suits aren’t waterproof,” he replied, unzipping the front to show Blake the wet patches covering his shirt. “In fact, the only dry part of me is my feet.”

Blake tutted and went back to wiping his glasses with a sour expression.

“Here,” Pember said, handing him a packet of disinfectant wipes. “You’ve got something on your face.” Blake gave him the side-eye to end all side-eyes, but took the wipes and began rubbing one over his forehead.

“There’s showers at the nick. But the first place we’re going is occupational health. I want a full fucking risk assessment put in place, because you , Pember McArthur, are an occupational hazard.”

Pember hummed and leant back in his chair. “For a big guy, you’re such a baby. You could’ve really done with a sibling or two to toughen you up.” Pember’s mouth tipped into a playful grin. It was like an addiction—teasing the alpha to the point of making him pout.

“And you could have warned me before sending a swimming pool’s worth of sludge over our heads.”

“Stop being dramatic. It wasn’t that much.”

“Tell that to my coat. Even the dry cleaner’s not going to get these stains out.”

“Boss said we’ve gotta seize your clothes.” Taylor cut in from the front of the van. “Cross contamination or some shit.”

Blake scoffed and shook his head. “That horse has already fucking bolted.”

“It’s just what the boss said.” Johnny shrugged.

Pember stifled a cough, finding it difficult to feel too annoyed about the whole thing with Blake sitting next to him. “We found the victim’s phone, didn’t we? Any idea how long it’s going to take the digital people to look at it?”

Blake cracked his knuckles, chucking the filthy wipe into a plastic bag hanging over the seat. “Digital Forensics. The phone’s being taken to headquarters, they’ll have it plugged in within the hour. The control room supervisor is searching the system for any dropped 999 calls.”

Pember nodded, the thought of the victim’s last words being immortalised by the BT operator making him shiver.

This was real. People were dying—being killed.

Yet, all he could think about was the way Blake’s knee bumped into his every time they rounded a corner.

How the man’s broad shoulders were so tense, Pember just wanted to press his fingers into the muscle and squeeze.

If the last few days had proven anything, it was that he was a stupid, silly boy with a stupid, silly crush on the boy next door.

Except, Blake wasn’t just the boy next door.

He was the detective sergeant of the bloody murder squad, who had an ex-wife, a heart condition and the softest bloody lips he’d ever felt.

Pember remained silent for the rest of the journey, and when they arrived back at the police station he kept his head down, trying not to look at Blake.

The underground changing room with its rows upon rows of red metal lockers absolutely stank of sweat and unwashed clothing. The cleaner had made a valiant attempt to improve the smell, but even the pungent scent of lemon and pine floor cleaner was barely able to cut through the stench.

Cutting through the locker room, Pember bolted for the omega changing room to the left of the double doors. Thankfully, the smell was a little better, and it contained a cupboard with emergency clothing. And snacks, for some reason.

Shoving open the door, he pulled out a set of clothes—nothing fancy, just a plain grey tracksuit—folded them and placed them on the bench.

He pulled off the waders and unzipped the filthy scene suit, but groaned when he remembered he needed an evidence bag for the clothes.

Grumbling, he kept his head down and padded back into the main locker room, which was when he almost collided with Blake.

“Shit, sorry,” Pember said, quickly shuffling around him.

“Looking for this?” Blake said, holding out a brown paper bag.

Pember nodded sheepishly, taking it and clutching it to his chest. “Thanks.” He turned back towards the changing rooms, but a hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Blake said, his voice smooth and even. “After everything we’ve seen today?”

Was he okay? Certainly, seeing the body had been harrowing, almost as much as the first. But something about it being in the open air almost took the sting out of it.

Like, having the killing not take place in the alpha’s own home, in the place where he was meant to feel safe, made it easier to stomach.

His eyes turned glassy as he pressed a hand to the doorframe.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said, eyes drawing back into focus. “Weirdly fine. Like, my brain just switches off and I go into work mode. Is that strange?”

Blake gave a soft smile. “No. Compartmentalisation is an essential skill of the job. Just don’t do it with every aspect of your life.”

Glancing at the tiled floor, Pember ran his tongue over his teeth. “I hope you follow your own advice, DS Smith,” he said, tilting his head to look up at the alpha.

Blake studied his face before dropping his gaze. “I won’t be home tonight. Will you save some dessert for me?”

Pember leant forwards and gently poked Blake’s chest. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t have pudding every night.”

Blake’s mouth tipped into a grin. “Cheese and biscuits?”

Sighing, Pember rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure, but I won’t be home tomorrow. I have a social thing.”

Blake sighed. “Like ships in the night, then. Going anywhere nice?”

“Just out with Maya and some other omegas.”

“Is that a good idea? With everything that’s happened?”

Pember waved the comment away, but he would have been lying if he said the thought of going out didn’t make him a little uneasy. “We aren’t staying late. Just dinner and a couple of cocktails.”

“Shall I pick you up?”

Pember flushed. “O-oh, no, thanks, I’ll get a taxi. Don’t want you waiting up when you’ll be knackered anyway.”

Blake gave him a hard look. “I’ll wait.”

Pember let out a breath. “Well I?—”

“Think about it and let me know,” Blake said, slowly turning and walking away.

“Thanks!” he called, watching the alpha’s long coat sway as his heavy footsteps echoed through the locker room. Blake tipped a two-finger salute before rounding the corner into the main changing room.

Perhaps it wasn’t that he fancied Blake. Perhaps, the alpha was just nice , and Pember was falling into the same pattern that he had with Oliver—of mistaking feelings of comfort and protection for desire.

But did he actually want to kiss Oliver back then?

No. The answer was most definitely no. He’d been a little disappointed when Oliver and Lucas mated, but only because he thought the alpha would stop Oliver from seeing him.

He hadn’t, of course. In fact, he preferred to leave them to it when they went out for pack days with the kids.

“Ah! You’re here,” a voice called, knocking him out of his thoughts. It was Johnny, swiftly followed by Taylor. “Boss wants to see you.”

Pember frowned. “Now?”

Taylor nodded, leisurely resting his forearm across the gun holstered at his hip. “Yeah, now. Don’t worry about the clothes, we’ll sort them out afterwards.”

Pember shuffled from foot to foot. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I smell worse than you guys after a night out. I’d really rather shower first and?—”

“Me-ow,” Taylor said, mouth tipping into a flirtatious grin. “Offence well and truly taken, and, er, you’re not wrong.”

Johnny snickered and punched him in the ribs. Pember only frowned, turning back towards the door.

“Ah, ah,” Johnny said, roughly gripping his upper arm. “Boss said you’re to come now.”

Something unpleasant prickled up Pember’s spine, and his wolf slowly bared its teeth. Johnny must have sensed it, because he immediately released his arm and held up a hand. “Just come, please. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can shower.”

“Get what over with? What’s this about?”

Johnny sucked his teeth, the impatience clear on his face. “ You speak to him,” he said, shoving Taylor forward.

Taylor let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look… darl’. Could you just come with, please? The boss won’t be happy if you make her wait.”

“Her? Which boss? The Major Crime Inspector?”

Taylor waved the question away, tugging him by the arm and ushering him out of the locker room. He glanced back over his shoulder, looking for Blake, but he’d already rounded the corner into the changing rooms.