Page 10 of Tell Me Your Desires

Chapter Six

With her blazer slung over the back of her chair, Jaime kicked her feet onto her desk, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee.

Not only was it lukewarm, it was terrible.

Cafeteria crap. She dropped the paper cup into the trash can next to her desk, deciding to tackle the jam donut Jackson had left unattended on his desk. Rookie mistake, she grinned.

Detective Richie Jackson was new here, but that didn’t stop Jaime from treating him the same as everyone else.

Whether it was ten minutes or ten years, she stole your food.

Standard. Except for Max. They had an unspoken rule when it came to one another’s food.

There were only two things Jaime trusted him with. Her life… and her fries.

“Fraser!” Jaime chomped on the donut as Max came into the room, jam spilling out of the side as she rocked back in her seat. “I wanna know what you thought of Frankie ten bellies!”

Max grinned. “I’ll tell you when you get the powdered sugar off your nostrils, Baros. Need a napkin?”

Jaime shrugged, scarfing the rest of the donut when Jackson entered only a few seconds after Max.

“Oh, and Jackson is here.”

“Y-yeah.” She almost choked on the sweet treat, turning her head away as she gulped the chunk. Fuck. She almost hadn’t managed that. “So, fat Frank. Thoughts?”

“I don’t know about him.” Max scratched at his chin. “He’s a character, that’s for sure.”

“He’s a pervert.”

“Hey! Where did my donut go?” Jackson shot up from his desk, eyeing Jaime and Max. “It was you, Baros. And don’t deny it!”

“I…would never.” Jaime feigned offense.

“Tell that to the shit on your nose.” Jackson scoffed, dramatically throwing himself back down into his seat. “I was looking forward to that.”

“My blood sugar was off. I…felt woozy.”

Max lifted a brow at that. Yeah, Jaime knew it was a poor excuse, but she’d get Jackson another if it meant so much to him. Jeez.

“Frank is your average creep who owns a brothel, Baros.” He took the case file from his desk, flipping it open to the crime scene photos.

“You really think he’s capable of that?” Max turned the file, almost sending Jaime’s jam donut back up her throat.

“He’d probably have a heart attack before he managed to restrain her. ”

Oh, Jaime wasn’t sure about that. People were capable of anything when they really put their minds to it.

“I’m not saying he did it. You’re right, he’d have probably sweated all over the body, and we’d have him cuffed by now, but answer me one thing.

When we walked in and saw the place, did you expect him to greet us? ”

“I don’t—”

Jaime swung her legs from her desk, spinning in her seat as she rested her elbows on her knees. “Come on. There’s no way he’s the sole owner of that place. Maybe not even the owner at all. A guy like that does not look after a brothel so well. Nah, no way. I’m not believing it for a second.”

“Would a different appearance have made you feel better?”

Jaime lifted a shoulder. “Actually, it would have, yeah. Frank looks like something from a seedy eighties porno. The ’stache, the shit shirts, the whole darlin’ bullshit. I bet he’s sat behind a desk in a dark room with a spotlight above his head, cigar resting in an ashtray, too.”

“So, what are you saying?” Max sat on the edge of his desk, giving his full attention to Jaime.

“I don’t know. He’s just a creep. Maybe using the club as a front for something else.

Drugs, money laundering, that kinda thing.

” Jaime cleared her throat, her mind drifting to Lady A.

Her mind had been there since they first locked eyes.

But Jaime wouldn’t admit to that and wouldn’t allow it to mean anything.

“Anyway, I’m far more interested in this… Lady A.”

Max nodded slowly. “She’s interesting, I guess.”

“Mmhmm. Interesting is one word to use,” Jaime muttered to herself when she turned back to her computer. “She’s our number one suspect, right?”

“Is…she?”

Jaime cleared her throat. She had yet to understand Lady A and the feelings she somehow seemed to rouse within Jaime, but she didn’t get the same vibes with Lady A that she did with Frank.

“Her reaction to the news that it was Maisie would suggest that she isn’t involved, but everyone is a suspect right now.

We have absolutely nothing to go on. No leads…

no names, no fucking nothing.” Jaime hated not having one tiny shred of something.

Finding a lead today would have helped with her mood and what this day meant.

“And I’d like to say it’s early days, but we have multiple dead now, Max.

We have to find something soon. If we find another—”

“We’re going to come across something.”

“Hope so.” Jaime lowered her head to her hands, exhaling a deep breath. “I’m dreading going back to that place. Doesn’t it give you the creeps?”

“You know,” Jackson cut in, loosening his tie.

“You shouldn’t knock those places or the women who work them.

Prostitution is one of the oldest professions in the world.

It ain’t going anywhere. Someone will always be willing to pay for sex.

” He grinned, tipping his head towards Jaime.

“Maybe you could do with a night there. Loosen up.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jaime shot to her feet and scowled. “You got something to say, then say it!”

Jackson held up his hands. “Relax, Baros. I’m just fucking with you.”

Max stood between Jaime and Jackson’s desks. “Guys…”

Jaime stepped towards her partner. “You better tell him to shut his mouth before I do it for him.”

Max placed a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “He’s not wrong about knocking those places. I know you have your opinions and why you hate going to them, but he doesn’t… and again, he’s not wrong.”

“What?” Jaime folded her arms across her chest.

“This case may take us to that brothel more often than you’d like. You need to get your head together and put your personal reasons to the back of your mind. For the women, okay?”

For the women? Did her colleagues really think she hated sex workers?

No, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

It was the people behind the women, the gangs, and the pimps who brought trouble to the streets and the women’s lives.

Jaime had massive respect for any woman who chose to go into sex work.

Whether that was to strip, to provide sex, or to cam, so long as they were safe and they were not being forced into it by some bastard on a street corner, Jaime had no problem with those women at all.

“I’m headed home. Call me if you find anything that we’ve missed.” Jaime snatched her blazer, scoffing as she shook her head. When she lifted her eyes to Max, she frowned. “You’re way off the mark. I don’t have an issue with what they do.”

“You want some company?” Max asked, his eyes soft. “I have a few hours.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m headed home for a few rounds on the bag.”

None of this made any sense. Jaime landed a fist on the punching bag in the corner of her apartment.

No, this was all kinds of fucked up. Lady A.

Jaime’s unexpected attraction to the woman…

their suspect. You don’t know that she did it.

Tonight, Jaime prayed it was Lady A who had killed those women.

It beat the consequences of the alternative reality. The consequences of attachment.

Jaime didn’t have it in her to become attached to another woman.

Taylor was still there, deep down and hidden away.

She always would be. As would the guilt of that dreadful night.

And it was that guilt that kept Jaime awake most nights.

The brief therapy sessions she had, well, they’d insinuated that over time the responsibility would fade.

Still, on days like today… when Jaime was thinking about another woman on their anniversary, the guilt grew stronger with every breath she took.

With each punch she landed on the bag. With every beat of her heart.

Fuck this. She hit harder, faster, her arms burning along with her lungs.

Jaime didn’t need this shit in her life right now.

She had a job to do, and holding a place for Lady A in her mind would prevent her from doing it to the best of her ability.

Okay, that was bullshit. Jaime could handle whatever life threw at her.

Hadn’t she proven that already? Jab, jab.

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in time with each punch.

This was the only time she felt she could think.

While she was alone and able to take her anger out on a sack.

Honestly, today she’d been close to taking her anger out on anything she could.

That included a woman who appeared distraught by Maisie’s death.

Max had been right…again. Jaime had to get her head together. This wasn’t healthy.

Neither is thinking about that fucking woman, yet here you are.

She bent at the hip suddenly, tears threatening to spill out.

Jaime had no time for tears. She had no time to dwell on the past or worry about the future.

The public needed her, Max needed her, hell…

she even needed herself. A clear mind and a sound conscience.

If she even dreamed of thinking about Lady A as anything more than a person of interest, her conscience would be far from clear.

That murky water she didn’t dare dip her toe into had to recede. For her own sanity, if nothing else.