by V. F. Mason
Spinning around, I see Kurt, who grins at me. “Welcome to the building, Ella.” He gives me a large basket of chocolate, and my brows furrow.
“Thanks. You shouldn’t have.”
He waves his hand in the “don’t mention it” gesture. “Standard procedure. Anyway, everything good?”
I nod, placing the basket on the counter. Honestly, this is a bit freaking weird. We discussed everything before, when he gave me the keys. Why is he here now?
I instantly admonish myself inwardly, because my suspicions present on the job sometimes transfer to real life. Nothing wrong with being friendly.
“Anyway, I’ll be in the apartment down the hall.” With a curt nod, he heads out but not before I ask.
“How is your wife?”
For a second, I think fury crosses his face, but it’s gone so quickly I must have imagined it. “She is gone. Left me.”
“What?” But he doesn’t elaborate, just shrugs and leaves, while I stand there confused.
Matilda never would have left her husband based on the report I’d gathered. She loved the life he provided too much. Those tickets couldn’t have been for her!
But if she did, then what could he possibly have done to drive her away?
Chloe and Simone choose this moment to enter the apartment, doing a happy dance as they throw the last boxes inside.
“Now it’s party time!” Chloe pumps her fist in the air while Simone rolls her eyes.
“Movie, food, and wine hardly count as party.” Slowly, I turn my attention to them; we’ll spend an amazing evening where they’ll help me put my stuff in place while we watch a movie and laugh.
Everything is right in the world, and all the nagging thoughts about Kurt fly from my mind.
But they come back one year later, when the police find Matilda at the bottom of a lake, killed in rage by her husband who couldn’t stand her leaving him.
Which proves to me one more time that if I have a feeling about someone, I should listen.
I’ll always recognize the evil lying underneath the perfect exterior.
New York, New York
May 2018
Ella
Something disturbs my sleep, and I move my head to the side to avoid the annoying touch, but it just follows me.
Burrowing into the pillow, I wave my hand, hoping the thing will go away. It’s probably some fly who flew in because I forgot to close the window. The breeze is softly caressing my skin, bringing much needed coolness to the otherwise warm environment.
Then it hits me.
Open window.
I’ve never left a window open during the night, not after the tragedy with my family. Who knows who and what can get inside?
My eyes snap open, and that’s when I see Kierian in all his handsome glory looming over me with his palms caging my head on both sides.
Droplets of water coming from his wet hair hit my face, and the smell of my shampoo penetrates my nostrils.
A chuckle slips through my lips. “Never expected you to smell like exotic flowers.” He doesn’t share the joke though, his silver eyes drilling me with their intensity instead, and I rise a bit, not really knowing what to do with such attention.
I’ve truly never met a man like him.
My body aches, reminding me that he took me yesterday in all the right and hot ways.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns, our lips a breath away from each other. Not being able to resist, I slide my hand into his hair, scooting closer as my breasts press against his bare chest, and I can’t help but moan at the contact. “Like you want me to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days,” he mutters, before covering my mouth with his, giving me a hot kiss that makes my head spin.
I rise more and circle his neck, demanding better entrance. I feel his erection digging into my thigh and my hand travels down, wanting to close around it, when he groans against me.
To my surprise, instead of placing me on top of him and continuing, he removes my arms and gets up, breathing heavily.
“You are a vixen.” He chuckles, and then runs his fingers through his hair that I’ve managed to tangle. “We have no time, beautiful. No time.” My brows furrow, and I glance at the clock. It’s barely seven, and Noah said we have to be at work by eight. “We have to be in the office in an hour. Go shower and stuff, while I grab some breakfast from the bakery.”
“I don’t eat breakfast, and it takes me around twenty minutes to get ready. You woke me up for nothing!” My voice sounds grumpy and childish, but I don’t care.
“But I do, and if you had woken up without me, you would have thought I’d left.” I blink, trying to process this, when he adds, “Maybe getting revenge for last time.” Yeah, my head would have totally gone there. He laughs when he hears my grumble, and I throw a pillow at him, but he dips his head and it misses him. “Come on, get ready.”
I get up and ignore his nakedness, although all I want to do is run my tongue all over his tanned skin and enjoy his pecs under my hands; so, I speed up my walk to the bathroom, but not before shouting, “I like bagels.” His laughter is the last thing I hear before shutting the door.
God, when was the last time I had so much fun?
This day sure looks promising.
Psychopath
I rest against the brick wall where I have a clear view of Ella through her open window. Since her apartment is on the eighth floor, I have to use binoculars.
She stretches her arms, and then places her hands on the windowsill, lifting her face to greet the sun. Her face is filled with happiness and a calmness I haven’t seen in months.
A night with Kierian did this to her. The way she looked at him in the club, responded to him, pissed me off to no measure.
She is mine to do with whatever the fuck I please, so any man who touches her has to think twice. But how can she know that if I haven’t given her a hint of how special she is for this investigation?
My hands tighten around the binoculars, almost breaking them, but I exhale a heavy breath.
Control.
That’s the most important thing for me.
Since she is home alone, I push back from the wall and move forward, pressing the box in my arms to my chest.
I got a gift for her, and I hope she’ll appreciate it.
Not that it will make her suffering any less once she falls into my trap.
Ella
“I bought Broadway shows for the Fourth of July for everyone. Don’t forget,” Chloe reminds me on the phone, while I hold it between my shoulder and ear, trying to pour coffee into my cup.
I hope Kierian likes it as well, because the other drinking option is water.
“I’ll do my best.” The minute the words slip through my lips, I regret them as a rant erupts at the other end of the line.
“It’s important, Ella! No way in hell are you spending it alone in your apartment.” I love my friends to pieces, but sometimes they make it their mission to surround me with as much attention as possible during holidays and special occasions.
No one cares most of the time. I prefer to stay home, because holidays are too difficult to bear, but for the sake of their friendship, I always suck it up.
So instead of arguing, I reply cheerily, “Okay. I’ll be there.” She doesn’t believe me by the way she huffs into the phone, but then the doorbell rings, and I quickly add, “Someone is at the door. Gotta go.” I don’t give her the chance to comment on that and hang up, placing my phone on the counter.
Shaking my head in amusement at Chloe’s perseverance, I open the door, ready for Kierian. My bright smile transforms to a frown when no one is there. “Umm, hello?” I call, and then hear the elevator ding echoing in the background. Maybe they thought I wasn’t home. “So weird,” I mutter, and I’m about to spin around when my gaze lands on my doormat and I blink. A white box lies on it with a black ribbon wrapped tightly around it.
I pick it up, searching for a note attached and don’t find any. I sh
ake it, but it makes no sound, and although I know better based on the training in Quantico, I bring it inside.
Unwrapping the knot, I remove the lid, only to find a book. “The Iliad by Homer,” I read aloud. The title reminds me of something from school, but I don’t remember the information. It’s a Greek classic. And then it clicks.
The history of the Trojan War. How the prince of Troy fell in love with a married Greek queen and got her away from her husband, who declared a war. It lasted for ten long years, with the Greeks finally winning and Elena going back to her husband.
Glancing at my huge collection of books on the bookshelf in my living room, I chuckle at the girls’ joke. They kept telling me they are on the hunt for a book that would bore even me, and since The Iliad is several thousand years old, it holds a strong possibility.
I suspect I’ll love it anyway; I’ll just never get time with work to properly enjoy Greek history.
Sliding my phone open, I scroll down my contacts to write in the group chat, when a different message appears.
Rolling my eyes at their sense of humor and desire to prolong the secrecy, I write back.
They don’t answer. In fact, I blink in shock as my phone rapidly closes all programs, and a second later, it turns off. “What the hell?” I rise up swiftly, and then a note falls to the carpet. I snatch it up, only to freeze on the spot.
The key you are so desperately seeking… lies within this story.
Unsub
A rush of adrenaline flashes through me as I hold my breath, my mind going in a spiral with the knowledge that he knows where I live and has sent me a personal gift. I place my hand on the gun under the table and calm down a bit, desperately needing to call someone to figure it out.
What should an agent do in this situation?
Sweat slides down my back as I walk to the window and open it up, gulping as much air as possible while willing myself to move forward.
He knows we are investigating him. He knows we have no clues and how much that frustrates me. But why did he choose me for this?
Obsession?
Words from many years ago enter my mind, and although I wish to block them away, I fail to do so.
But there is something about you, Ella… it brings more pleasure to watch you suffer than to kill you.
Tightening my hold on the windowsill to the point my knuckles turn white, I count to ten in my mind, a trick I learned back in college.
No matter where my mind went, the countdown always brought me back to the present.
He probably hacked my phone too. Why do serial killers in most cases have to be so fucking smart?
A doorbell ring snaps me out of my thoughts and my heart speeds up, beating painfully in my ribcage. I swallow and at once take out my gun, releasing the safety. Since my phone is off, I can’t call for help, and although the idea of facing him scares me, it’s better to be outside than inside with him.
I tiptoe to the door, making minimal sounds, and rise on my toes to look through the peephole. I exhale in relief as Kierian’s face greets me.
Unlocking the door, he meets me with a frown as he scans my appearances. “Ella?” I immediately fist his shirt and pull him inside, shutting the door and locking it with all the locks possible. Tangling my fingers through my hair, I dwell on the thought that with one stupid message, the unsub took me back to the little girl who didn’t understand what to do.
I won’t survive on the job if I become neurotic with it.
Instantly, he grabs me by the shoulders as he spins me around and presses me against the door. He throws the bagel bag on the couch, and it lands perfectly without the contents spilling out.
The gun in my hands digs into my hip, but I ignore it, still trying to catch my breath.
“Ella, start talking.”
Licking my dry lips, I manage to get out “He knows where I live.”
“Who?”
“The unsub. He knows.”
Coldness crosses his face, and his voice dips low as he fires yet another question. “What did he do?”
Swaying to the side, I point to the box and the book, my finger slightly shaking. “I think I’m overreacting.”
“You are not,” he snaps at me, and I’m taken aback by the anger coming from him. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m calling Noah.” He is about to make a phone call that has the power to end my career before it even starts!
“No!” I scream at him, and he stops while I elaborate, hoping like hell he’ll listen to me. “Noah will take me off the case and you know that. I’ll be in the ‘possible victim’ section, and everyone will guard me.” Based on his raised brow, my convincing game isn’t really working.
“Are you insane? He is a serial killer. I’m supposed to just leave your life to chance?”
“Kieran, if he wanted to kill me, he would have done it. It’s about the game for him.”
“A dangerous game, Ella.”
“Please,” I whisper, not really understanding myself in this situation either. Shouldn’t my safety come first?
Why am I insisting on it?
“I have no words for how stupid that is!” I stay silent as he runs his hand over his hair, sighing in frustration. “I won’t tell Noah, but if it gets dangerous, all bets are off.”
Relief washes over me, and before I can even think about my action, I wrap my hands around his waist and hug him with all my might, breathing in his scent. Although I said all those brave things, inside, the little girl still trembles in fear, and I have no one else to calm me down but him.
And dominance and protection always comes in spades from Kierian.
His arms tighten around me as he pats my head, murmuring, “Shhh, everything is okay. But I don’t like this, Ella.” He rocks me from side to side, while I take a deep breath.
He might not like it, but even he knows it will help us find him. This unsub is so arrogant he thinks my world should revolve around him.
“He wants me to do it. It’s better not to anger him.” If he watched us, it means he’ll know when I tell them the truth. Who knows how he will react? I didn’t want another victim on my head.
An experienced agent would have probably reacted differently, but I couldn’t.
“I will catch this son of a bitch.”
Kierian says nothing, just hugs me closer.
So much for an amazing day.
Chapter Ten
New York, New York
August 2015
Ella
Kicking the rock lying on the ground, I huff so loudly in frustration that the woman walking next to me jumps, but I don’t care.
Rejection, once again.
I barely restrain myself from bursting into tears as the realization sinks into me and my knees buckle, but Chloe’s strong hands catch me in time. “Shhh, babe. Let’s sit down.” She guides me toward the bench at the side of the New York Police Department building, where we sit down as people pass with curious glances, probably at my mascara-smeared red face.
I don’t even try to stop my tears as I press the heels of my palms on my eyes. “It’s over,” I murmur, desperation and resignation lacing my voice.
Although it probably was over a few years ago when Dean Holt warned me no one would ever approve of me getting into criminal psychology.
It seems everyone has made it their mission to make it impossible for me. And I finally accept my defeat, having no strength left to fight an entire system.
Chloe pats my back, while saying, “It’s all right, babe. You can always look in other cities.”
“No one will give me a job in any type of field work, and without that, it’s impossible to get into BAU, and you know that.” Even though the FBI refused me, I still hoped after I h
ad a few years of experience, they’d let me work for them.
She stays silent, not having anything to say to that.
No matter how much I’ve studied, no matter that I’ve read all the books on criminal psychology and took them as general electives, all my knowledge doesn't count for shit for those people. They just look at my past and assume this work is not for me, that I’m on some kind of revenge path.
I’m not. I just want to give other families out there a fighting chance.
Is that so wrong?
“I thought you love working with—”
I don’t let her finish. “Yes, I work with abused women and kids in shelters and at the centers, because I want to help them. But if I worked in BAU, I would actually have the chance to prevent the rapes and abuses from happening. Don’t you understand? Sometimes it’s too late to fix the problem once the monster inflicts his evil. Those kids and women have to live with it forever,” I yell in her face, while she stoically listens. She takes a sip of her tea, exhales a heavy breath, and then raises my chin so she can have my whole attention.
“But it doesn't mean your work doesn't bring any value. Those people have no one but you to let them know it’s okay to move on, and they shouldn't be stuck with their scars. It’s worth a lot too, girl. If you don’t see it, then maybe your two degrees in psychology mean shit.” Then she stands up and gives me a glance over her shoulder. “Once this self-pity party is done, call me. We are in need of shopping.” With those parting words, she leaves me alone, strolling down the street, her blonde hair swaying from side to side.
As much as I hate it, she is right. I’ve spent all this time trying to get into that kind of work while devaluing everything else in my life.
Is it worth it, though? Smiles and grateful words from the kids at the shelter flash through my mind, reminding me that I make a difference in their lives. That they know they matter and no one is allowed to treat them that way.
I give them something important. I teach them no one has the right to bring them pain. How can I view it as nothing, simply because I don’t get to work for the FBI?
