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Tomorrow morning wasn’t looking good.
CHAPTER THREE
Ella lay on Ben’s sofa, losing herself in the sterile white of his ceiling. The revelation about the new director had lodged a ball of nausea in Ella’s gut, a mix of disgust and apprehension that refused to dissipate. Across the room, Ben sat at the kitchen table, spooning something from a bowl. Ella perched herself upright.
‘How you keep your figure is beyond me,’ she said.
'There's always room for cereal, plus I need a carb overload before bed. Otherwise, I'll be awake until three.'
‘Carbicide,’ Ella said.
‘Oh yeah. Anyway, what’s the deal with this Carter guy? Don’t tell me you’re scared of him.’
'A little bit. He's a weedy little thing, so kicking his ass wouldn't be a problem, but guys like him don't fight with their hands. They use back-door politics to get what they want, and if he’s got it in for Ripley, chances are I’m doomed by proxy.’
Milk dripped off Ben’s spoon. ‘What can he do, though? He’s not going to fire you because you happen to have been paired with a woman who once punched him.’
Ella lay back down. ‘Ego’s a fragile thing, and it’s dangerous when people put it before justice or business. Carter’s the kind of guy that does.’
The questions circled her mind like crows around a corpse. How would Carter's leadership affect the Bureau? How would it affect her career, her partnership with Ripley? And more importantly, what did it mean for the kind of justice they were all striving to uphold?
‘Isn’t there a chance this new guy is just temporary? I thought you said the higher-ups at your place have to be sworn in through some ceremony or something. Virgin sacrifices and all that.’
‘FBI directors have to be elected by the Attorney General and sworn in by the president, but that’s just a formality. They can begin the job before all that stuff goes ahead.’
Ben took hold of the box he’d poured his second dinner from. He scrutinized the back. ‘God, I remember when cereals were simple. Frosted flakes, tons of sugar and maybe a puzzle on the box. Now I’ve gotta deal with…’ he leaned closer, ‘oats, granola, raisins and wholegrain muesli.’
‘Health advancements. It’s why we don’t die at thirty anymore.’
Ben placed his spoon down and pushed his bowl away. ‘I’m just saying. But you’re seriously worried about a one-eyed bureaucrat with a grudge? He might be a different guy now.’
Ella appreciated the optimism. Leave it to Ben to focus on the positives. ‘True. I can only hope so.’
Ben shuffled next to her on the sofa and put a hand around her ankle. ‘What’s the worst that can happen? Mia’s leaving in a few months anyway, so I doubt she cares all that much.’
‘He probably wouldn’t fire me, but he could still reassign me. Legally, I’m still an Intelligence Analyst. It was the old director’s initiative that paired me with Ripley and sent me onto the frontlines.’
Ben laughed as he loosened his grip. 'Look, I don't understand a lot of these terms you're throwing at me, so I'm going to give you my blanket Mark Twain advice. You'll worry about a lot of things, and most of them will never happen. Quit creating imaginary problems. You might even hit it off with this guy, and even if you get fired, so what?’
Ella gently kicked him in the thigh. ‘Because then I’d have even less money.’
‘And? Just live here, with me.’
While her heart skipped a beat at Ben's suggestion, but she felt a twinge of apprehension at the same time. She'd been using Ben's apartment as a hideout during her ordeal with Logan Nash, out of fear that he or his cronies might be stalking her place. Logan had shown up dead two days ago, but she'd stayed at Ben's place regardless. She had to admit that she preferred it here, particularly the company. Ben had already posed the question a few weeks ago, but Ella had been forced to decline. Wherever she went, death usually followed, and she wasn't about to expose Ben to the four-dimensional dangers of hunting psychopaths for a living. Unfortunately, serial killers didn’t think twice about crossing personal or professional boundaries. They were a twenty-four-seven hazard.
‘You want me to move in?’ Ella asked.
‘Yeah,’ Ben said, his tone earnest. ‘I mean, we spend most of our time together anyway. It just makes sense, doesn't it?’
Ella couldn't deny the practicality of his suggestion, nor the appeal of waking up to him every day. Yet, the thought of such a significant change made her hesitate.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I make new enemies every week, and those enemies don’t work nine to five.’
Ben's expression softened. ‘I get that. I do. But think about it. We could save on rent, spend more time together, and it would be... nice, wouldn't it? I’m not really bothered if it puts me in the crosshairs of some lunatic.’
Ella thought back to a few months ago when Ben had fought one of America’s most notorious serial killers beside her and somehow lived to tell the tale. In fact, Ben had been instrumental in helping her catch him. Maybe living together wouldn’t be such a risk after all.
‘I know you're not afraid,’ Ella said, her voice laced with both admiration and concern. ‘You've proven that more times than I can count. It still terrifies me to think of you in danger, and besides, I don’t want to ruin a good thing. We’ve got a great situation here, don’t you think?’
