Page 71 of Soul Sucker

“You go. Send me the files. I’ve got nothing much going on.”

“Are you serious?” Sam started to smile. “That’s awesome. I’ll shoot the files over to you right now.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ella watched him practically skip away and found herself trying to remember when she’d last been that happy. She didn’t begrudge him a moment of it. In six years’ time, he’d be feeling just like she was. But he’d already decided to take a mate, hadn’t he? Maybe shadowing her for the past few months had convinced him that it was the only option.

* * *

When she next checked thetime, it was far later than she’d realized and the office was curiously silent. Even Feehan slipped out early on Fridays to avoid the traffic and get home for the weekend. Her investigations into the other empaths hadn’t cheered her up much either. She had a strong suspicion that both Jennifer Barton and Maria Cordova hadn’t died by accident. It seemed as if the authorities were so hung up on the idea of empaths choosing to kill themselves that they swept all the deaths under the rug regardless. Whether that was to avoid bad publicity, or to cut down on the paperwork, she didn’t have a clue.

She stretched and turned her computer off, aware of a headache beckoning and that she had no plans for the weekend ahead. Since Laney’s death, she’d lost interest in going out entirely. She didn’t even want to have sex. Well, that wasn’t quite true; she wanted to have sex with Vadim Morosov but every woman on the planet probably felt the same way.

But he’d offered to become her mate… Because he hated to lose a case.

Ella picked up her backpack and headed for the door. She’d get some beer and a pizza, pick up some old movies and have a weekend in her jammies. She didn’t have many more before she lost it, so she might as well do what she wanted.

In an effort to conserve energy, the main lights had already been dimmed and the office seemed deserted. She got herself some more coffee and checked the time of the next ferry back to Tiburon. If she walked quickly, she’d make it.

As she wandered out toward the bank of elevators, she felt a presence behind her and the sharp, familiar scent of citrus.

“Hey, Morosov.”

Vadim came up alongside her. “Hi.”

One of Madison’s favorite phrases came into Ella’s mind.Awkward. “You’re here late.”

“I was checking out some of the foreign empath graduates for Sam. I speak several European languages and he was struggling with interpreting the data.”

“You mean he wanted to get home for his hot and heavy weekend.”

He didn’t smile. “That too.”

“How did your research go?”

“Bad, Ms. Walsh. If you include Natasha, all the Russian empaths are dead.”

“And no one noticed?”

“Since the fall of communism, the various governments have been busy dealing with a lot more important issues than the lack of empaths.”

“There’s no need to be so patronizing. I do know what’s going on in the rest of the world.”

He didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the call button for the elevator.

She couldn’t think of anything else to say, and turned instead to the stairs. “Damn it.”

“What?”

She pointed at the yellow and black tape festooned over the entrance to the stairwell. “How did I miss that? The stairs are shut for maintenance.”

“The elevators are working.”

She shivered. “I hate small spaces.”

“It’s only one floor up.” He pressed the illuminated call button. “You can hold my hand if you like.”

“I’m not quite that pathetic.” The elevator doors opened and she forced herself to step inside.

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