Page 39 of Fixation

HARPER

I ’m using my finest metal file to smooth the silver pendant I’ve been working on over the past four hours. All that’s left is adding the gemstones. Black and red.

I’m so focused on it that when my doorbell rings, I yelp.

I don’t think anyone could blame me. The last few days have been nerve-wracking. My body is wrung out. I’m on edge constantly.

At the second ring, I take a deep breath, place my now-warm ice pack on the floor and get up to answer the door.

I’m being thoughtful, taking care of myself as if Anderson were here to do it for me. Like he’s watching over me even when he’s gone.

I wish he were here.

If only to put a hand on him for support. To be comforted by his scent. To look at him and know I’m being taken care of.

“No,” I whisper to myself. I can’t lean on him, metaphorically or physically. Can’t trust him without having the full picture.

I’ve got this. I’ve had it for years.

So what if I miss him?

You want me to bend you over the table? Spank you raw until you eat?

The wetness in my pussy is unbearable. Unacceptable.

The door rings a third time while I wobble.

Who could it be?

Darla never drops by without calling first. Anderson would’ve been in my doorway instead of waiting outside.

I’m not expecting any deliveries.

“Miss Arlington.” A woman’s hoarse voice reaches the second floor. “NYPD. We’d like to have a word with you.”

I’m already on the first floor when I freeze up.

A long, bone-chilling moment passes. Last month, I wouldn’t have hesitated before opening the door to the cops.

My business is as ethical as they come. I pay my taxes on time. My family is as law-abiding as I am.

Last month, an unhinged, maddeningly gorgeous, and criminal doctor wasn’t a part of my life.

That I was aware of.

“Hello?” She waves at me through the frosted glass.

“Coming.”

I steady my breath, resolve settling over me. I won’t tell them a single thing about Anderson. Nothing.

“I’m here,” I announce, opening the door.

My eyes adjust to the bright light. Two people wait for me on the other side.

One of them is the woman who called out to me. She’s tall and slim, her hair as black as her pants and blouse, twisted into a tight bun at her nape.

The man at her side is about the same height as me. We even share the same eye color and hair, except his is curly and cropped close to his head.

“NYPD detectives, Englewood and Rockdale,” the woman with eyes as blue as the ocean states, flashing me her badge. Athena Rockdale .

The man at her side shows me his. Jerry Englewood .

I examine both. They’re legit.

“Hello.” I notice that the only ring Athena has on her hands looks very familiar. A smile curves my lips. I gesture to her hand, blushing. “One of my favorites.”

“Ha. It really is you.” Warmth seeps into her throaty voice. “I’m a huge fan. My husband got this for me last Christmas.”

“I…um. Thank you.” I tuck a loose strand behind my ear, patting the messy bun on top of my head. It’s another thing I’ll never get used to. Compliments. “Can I help you with anything?”

“We’re here about Werner Jade,” Jerry quips, stepping forward. His cologne isn’t pleasant. His sweat is equally unappealing. “We’d like to ask you a few questions if now’s a good time.”

Frankly, it’s the worst time. Inspiration had eluded me for what felt like forever. Now that I have it back, that I’m about to finish this piece I’ve been working on, I resent the interruption.

Unless it’s work-related or Anderson-related, I’d rather be left alone.

“Sure.” Because let’s face it, telling NYPD detectives they can’t come in could look incriminating. I step aside, letting them through, then follow them into my home. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing, thank you.” Athena steals a glance at my feet, catching me trying to put as little pressure as possible on my bruised ankle.

Anderson was right about the injury. I hardly feel any pain. It can’t be broken or sprained. I admire and loathe him for being the best at…everything, basically.

“What happened to your leg?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.

My complicated emotions about Anderson get filed away into a secret drawer.

“It’s my ankle.” Smiling apologetically, I gesture toward my living room for them to continue. “I stumbled and fell this morning. I”— promised Anderson I’d be careful with it —“I’m fine.”

“This morning?” Jerry whips around at my explanation, squinting at me. Suspicion bleeds from him and my stomach twists. “Are you sure?”

I see where this is going: they suspect me, not Anderson.

“Of course I’m sure.” I let out my party laugh.

When I opened my business and gained fame, I was invited to numerous events. Mingling and meeting the right people is the push every young artist aspires to have.

And I grabbed it with both hands.

“You are?” His eyebrow quirks.

“I think I’d remember.” Doing my best to put the detectives at ease, I sit on the couch, holding back the grimace since my ass is still sore.

I beckon both of them to sit.

“Yes, yes.” The first to lower herself to the other couch is Athena. Jerry follows begrudgingly. “Werner Jade, then.”

Since Emersyn told me about Werner this morning, I’d have to assume they know I know.

“Terrible, what happened to him.” The corners of my mouth turn down as I sigh. “We’ve worked together since they first year of Harper’s.”

“Athena wanted to put it to rest as soon as the coroner’s report arrived.

Not me. I have reasons to suspect Mr. Jade was murdered.

” Jerry leans forward, placing his forearms on his knees.

“It seems highly unlikely that his heart just gave out. Without any medical or family history. No narcotics in his system or home. No alcohol abuse. The coroner suggested we close the case, but I insisted we should keep digging into it.”

You’re right. Werner tried to flirt with the wrong woman. My stalker wouldn’t have that.

I stifle a laugh. This isn’t funny, it’s insane.

Wonderful and insane.

“No one should get away with murder,” I agree. Other than Anderson, who’s justified, in that warped way of his.

“Where were you two nights ago?” the man prods.

“Jerry,” Athena scolds him. “We talked about this.”

Her eyes are too wide with shock.

His face is red with anger.

It doesn’t feel like a good cop, bad cop act.

What did I ever do to him?

“You were upset.” He brushes Athena off, focusing his anger on me. “You didn’t appreciate the email he’d sent you.” Jerry’s fury takes on a sharper edge. Spit flies out of his mouth. “Rich, spoiled girl?—”

“Englewood, cut it out.” They’re definitely not acting. I see it clearly now. Her shoulders are tense; her face blanches and reddens within seconds. “What the fuck, man.”

“The computer nerd had the nerve to think he could date you .”

I pray to God Anderson is sleeping through this. I mean, he has to be. Otherwise, he would’ve bulldozed his way in here. Would’ve put this detective in his place.

He’d defend me and become their number one suspect.

“When he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Englewood continues, “you went over there before he could come here. You showed him what people with money are capable of.”

“Jesus Christ,” Athena cuts in. “We didn’t discuss any of this. Stop it.”

“Look at her!” he bellows, and wow. “The miserable excuse of I tripped ! She must’ve jumped out of the fire escape and landed badly on the ground!”

“We came here for an interview.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Releases it. Turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Miss Arlington. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“When she lawyers up! They all do! Don’t you remember our case from three years ago? The one that got away on a technicality?”

Okay. Now I get it. He has issues that have nothing to do with me. I can work with that.

“Listen.” I raise my palms, waiting for both detectives to hear me out.

They’re quiet, though there’s nothing to do about the volatile energy in the room.

“I’m recovering from the worst flu ever.

I’m working on my new collection. I jogged once, then messed up and tripped this morning. I wasn’t anywhere near his place.”

At my explanation, Athena’s lips quirk. Her posture is a relaxed one.

Englewood shifts uncomfortably on the couch, murmuring to himself.

“The city is wired with cameras,” I remind them, knowing full well that they won’t catch Anderson.

Anderson, who was wearing a mask.

Holy shit. The night he fucked me against the wall. He killed him then.

Thankfully, he had the gaiter hiding his face. They’ll never find out it was him, no matter how much CCTV footage they go over.

He’s safe.

“You can see for yourselves that I’d been here. In my own neighborhood.”

“Then it wasn’t you,” the way Jerry says it, a chill runs up my spine. As if he doesn’t believe me. “You have family or a boyfriend or someone in the Bratva. You sent them.”

My eyebrows scrunch together. “The Bratva? What’s that?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Athena shakes her head.

Jerry doesn’t stop for a second. “You have the head of the Russian mafia coming out of the grocery store around the corner, and you want us to believe you didn’t pay him or someone in his organization to deal with your problem?”

No heartbeat. No pulse. No blood in my veins.

My chest tightens, panic flooding every nerve.

The head of the Russian mafia. Here, in my peaceful neighborhood. Well, relatively peaceful.

Anderson lives here.

And now this.

Oh God. Oh my God.

“I don’t have any ties to the mafia.” My lips are parched, my vision blurring around the edges. Impossible. Im-fucking-possible. I couldn’t date a mafia man or whatever Anderson does for them. I won’t—fuck. What a mess. What the hell. “Any mafia. I swear, I don’t.”

Athena jumps to her feet. “Let me go get you some water.”

I must look as fucked up as I feel. Face pale. Eyes unfocused.

Water won’t help me. No amount of water in the world could make me feel better right now.

“No, no. It’s okay.” Will my heart ever beat again? Doubtful. “You just—the mafia? Here?”

“Yeah. Well, this is an ongoing investigation.” I guess I’m pale enough, shocked enough, for Jerry to believe me. He gets up, smoothing his crumpled shirt. “Stay in the city where we can reach you.”

“Sure.” Stand up. Show them out. Do what any other innocent person would.

At the door, Athena hands me her card. “Call me if you remember anything. Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome.”

I shut the door in their faces. Put my forehead against it.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

I’m about to count to a hundred. Then I hear the lock on the back door.

Boots stomp across my hardwood.

A large hand rests on my shoulder. The scent of a woodsy cologne filters into my nose.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

His lips brush along the crook of my neck.

“I’m yours.”