Page 58 of The Night Shift

She sticks the knife deeper into his neck and drives the tip of the blade up beneath his skull, till it gets stuck near his temple. She pulls her scalpel out and stabs his face. Over and over, sinking the blade deep, mutilating his brain until his blood is misting her face.

It’s overkill, but still, she grabs a nearby brick and brings it down on his head. Once. Twice. Three times. Blood paints her cheeks in messy strokes of feathered arterial spray. The last time she swings the brick at his head, I hear a raspy crunch, the sound of someone punching their hand through a drywall. Even in the fuzzy light of the building’s run-down interior, I can see the side of his head that’s caved in, along with the black pool of blood that’s now spread out across the floor.

His foot twitches and morbid butterflies flutter in my stomach. Because Holly Moore, the woman who until yesterdaycouldn’t even be in the same room as me without suggesting I get run over by a car, just killed someone…for me.

And she did it without blinking.

My breathing quickens. The image replays in my mind, the reality of the situation washing over me. Holly Moore just killed a man to save me. She killed someone forme.

I’m frozen in space. My heart might as well stop beating. She bends down to pull her scalpel out of the dead guy’s throat. A viscous crimson liquid wells up between the crook of his neck, staining the floor.

I spot a thin red line marring the pale skin of Holly’s arm. “Are you hurt?” I reach out, concern twisting my gut.

Holly slaps my hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

There's a dismissal in her tone that stings, a cold distance that wasn't there before. But, of course, I know I’m reading too much into it. Holly just akilledsomeone for me. I guess Kennedy was right after all. Hollydoesn’thate me. You don’t go around committing homicide for someone you hate. That’s just common sense.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

I take a step forward, slowly and with my hands raised above my head, trying to reassure her that I come in peace. She places her bloody scalpel on my chest, right above the area where my heart is supposed to be. My muscles stiffen.

Well, shit.

“Whatare you doing here?”

“D-did you…just kill that man?” I have to feign some semblance of fear in my voice. Holly doesn’t know that I’ve seen her kill before. Even though it’s never been up close. And never for me.

“Answermy fucking question, Theo.”

“Holly…t-that man isdead…please…p-please, don’t hurt me.” The words leave a sour taste in my mouth. This is so fucking embarrassing. I sound like an absolute arse.

The tip of her scalpel presses against my skin. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Theo,” she warns.

“What? Did you think you’re the only one who likes to spend her free time exploring a decrepit building that houses the occasional dead body or two? You’re not that special, Hollister.”

She grabs me by the side of my neck and shoves me back against the wall beside the door. I crouch down to make up for our height difference so that she can restrain my wrists with more ease. Her right hand closes over both my wrists, holding them above my head while the left hand holds her scalpel against my throat, the cold metal threatening to break into my skin.

“Call me that again and I swear to God I’ll chop your balls off and shove them down your throat.”

My gaze drifts down to her chest and I realize she’s not wearing a bra. Oh my god, she’s not wearing a bra.Nobra. The thought runs on repeat in my brain like a broken tape recorder.No bra, no bra, no bra. Despite our morbid surroundings, I feel a warm blush creeping up my neck.

Fuck, I need to get it together.

I stare into her eyes to distract myself. Her very beautiful, very pissed-off, brown eyes. Whoever said brown eyes are plain and boring has clearly never seen Holly’s. I could stare into her eyes forever. Hypnotic. The specks of brown blending into the onyx of her pupil. Beautiful in a way that resembles a woody forest, pulling me in the longer I stare. I wonder what they’d look like in the sun. Rich and deep. Fierce. Melting into golden rays, creating a sunset of their own.

“Whatare you doing here?” she repeats, her voice more brutal this time.

When I don’t respond right away, she digs the blade a fraction deeper in warning which sends a flush down my legs. “I’m not fucking around, Theo. Did you send me that text?”

Huh? “What text?”

“Don’t fucking test me right now. Were you following me? Yes or no.”

There’s so much blood strewn across her face. She looks so beautiful like this. The metallic tang hits my nostrils. It's faint, almost masked by Holly’s sweet perfume, but there’s a warmth to it, a sweetness that sends my own blood rushing down to my groin. I can’t help but smile. “I really like it when you boss me around like that, love.”