“Grab that too.” Dom muttered, nodding toward the tub with her chin. I rocked onto my tiptoes, grabbing the shelf to stabilize the wobble in my ankles. With my free hand, I reached up, just barely grasping the lip of the tub and flicking it toward the edge of the shelf. Empty except for the four-cup measure inside of it, it came down with ease.
The bottle of bleach was a different beast entirely — one that nearly pulled my shoulder from its socket as gravity hurtled it down from the shelf toward the floor.
“Don’t spill.” Dom glared, leaning her hip against the car.
“Obviously I’m not trying to,” I gritted my teeth, dragging over the supplies.
But I didn’t dare mouth off too much as she walked me through diluting the bleach with a hose from the shop. I might not want to show it, but at this point, I was terrified to disobey her. As much of a bitch as she was, it seemed like she knew what she was doing here, and I would take any help at this point if it kept me out of jail.
Once I dumped the weapons into the bleach bath for a soak, she had me pull the garbage from the trunk and then tackle the blood-stains with the same cleaning solution and wet vac combo I’d used on the interior.
But as I worked, I couldn’t help eyeing the garbage pail nervously. “How do we get of that stuff?”
Dom scowled. “Don’t worry about that. Worry about my instructions.”
“Don’t you think that considering my DNA is on all of it I have some right?—”
She cut me off with a snarl. “You don’t have rights here. You have orders.”
After that, I made quiet work of the clean-up. I didn’t even know what time it was anymore, just that it was dark outside. Leo and Spencer hovered around the far end of the shop somewhere, but they’d made themselves exceedingly sparse while Dom tortured me.Convenient.
But soon, the carpet was clean, the garbage was removed, and all that was left was to clean the knives. Their silver blades sparkled at the bottom of the tinted bleach mixture like fish in a muddy stream.
I wasn’t sure how Dom wanted me to handle this. Pour out the bleach into the shop drain? But before I could try it, her voice hissed over my shoulder. “Kneel.”
“Wha—?” I didn’t get the word out of my mouth before her hand clamped down on my shoulder, pushing down until my knees hit the cement beside the tub.That’s going to bruise.
I whipped my head back to catch a glimpse of her straddling a leather work stool, poring over a metal tray she’d set up while I was working. I couldn’t make out what was on it from here, but my blood chilled at the thought of what might be.
Is that it then? She uses me to clean up her mess, and then she finishes me?
Even as the thought crossed my mind, I didn’t dare move. Couldn’t if I wanted to, as panic froze me where I kneeled.
But rather than grabbing a weapon, she tossed a red, plastic scrub brush at my feet, turning her attention back to the tray. “Scrub any residue left off of the knives, then place them here so I can check your work.”
Grabbing a hold of the brush, I reached into the bucket slowly, careful not to cut myself on any of the sharp edges asmy fingers closed around the weighty handle of a silver dagger. I was struck as I pulled the knife by how beautiful it was. These weren’t just ordinary kitchen knives, they were hefty silver blades with ornate, carved handles.
My mind flashed back to the vendor I’d spotted at The Hollow, but as I turned this knife in my hand, there was no name engraved.
I guess it would be pretty fucking stupid to engrave your name on a murder weapon. But then again, these bitches clearly have a flair for the dramatic.
Dunking the brush back into the bleach, I scrubbed it over every nook and cranny of the brush, dipping the weapon and the brush back into the bleach as needed.
Once the knife sparkled, I stood, trying to keep myself steady as I carried it over to Dom. Either I was exhausted, or the bleach fumes were really getting to me, because every time I stood, the shop spun around me.
As I started in on the next brush, I could hear her muttering under her breath, wiping the weapon down again with a bleach-soaked paper towel before scrubbing at the handle’s edge with a Q-tip.
Her reaction was the same no matter how many knives I brought her or how thoroughly they’d been cleaned. Quietly, I began to scrub harder, unsure why she was so irritated. But with my hands aching, there was only so hard I could grip the brush.
I had the urge to shake out my wrists, hoping to relieve whatever nerve I’d pinched, but I didn’t dare for fear of splattering the DNA across the shop.
Instead, I took a second to flex and unflex my hand over the bucket.If I could just get rid of this ache…
But just as I was about to reach in for the last blade, something dropped into the tub, nearly taking my finger with it. “Sloppy,” Dom growled. “Do it again.”
I held my hands up at my sides as I took in the bleach splattered on the floor around me. The fact that none of it hit me was a matter of coincidence rather than any consideration from Dom’s end.
You fucking asshole…
