Page 22 of Tell Me Your Desires
Chapter Thirteen
Anya rolled over, lifting the covers over her head. Even with the sleep mask on, she could tell the sun was shining brightly. What she didn’t understand was what the hell that noise was.
Knock, knock, knock. Chime.
“Derek, is that you? If so, stop.”
“Meow.”
Knock, knock, knock. Chime.
Anya threw off the covers, sat up, and yanked her sleep mask off.
“What in the hell is that?” She picked up her phone and saw an alert on her video doorbell.
Since she kept her phone on silent and ‘do not disturb’ until she was good and ready to wake up, Anya had no clue someone had been standing at her door.
And apparently, they were still there doing that incessant knocking shit.
She swiped up, unlocked her phone, and went straight to her security app. If this was some door-to-door salesman or some religious zealot, Anya swore to herself that she would turn on the sprinkler system. When the video came up, it was worse than she imagined. Detective Baros.
“Come on! What is she doing here? How the hell did she find me?” Anya contemplated turning on the sprinklers anyway to punish the detective for waking her up at this—she checked the clock. Eight a.m.—Godforsaken hour! Who the hell knocks on someone’s door so fucking early?
“Meow, meow.”
“Don’t start with me. Your breakfast isn’t for another couple of hours. Just because I’m sitting up and talking doesn’t mean I’m awake.”
“Mew.”
“Shh. Maybe if we ignore her, she’ll go away.
” Anya continued to watch the video of the beautiful detective.
I wonder if her hair gets even curlier when wet.
Great. Now I’m thinking of her wet. Been there, done that, Anya.
Time to move on. Still, Jaime was here. At her home.
Why? Anya yawned and decided she was too tired to care why.
Or how. If Detective Baros wanted to talk to Anya, she could come back at a decent time.
Like in the evening, preferably with takeout. Some tacos or something.
Anya’s tummy growled, and she mimicked it with a scowl. “Great. Now I’m hungry and she’s not going away.”
Knock, knock, knock. Chime. Jaime leaned close to the camera on the doorbell. “I know you’re home, Ms. Grant. I just have a few questions. Let’s make this easy, shall we?”
Anya stared at Jaime’s features. “Did she just call me Ms. Grant?” She glanced over at Derek, who was making angry biscuits next to her. “You heard that, right? She did not say Lady A.” When Derek ignored her, Anya huffed. “Fine.”
Anya got out of bed—very reluctantly—and jerked on her robe.
She didn’t think it would be appropriate to answer the door in the nude.
Though it was tempting just to see Jaime’s reaction.
As she passed by a mirror, she checked her face to make sure she didn’t look like a raccoon and ran her fingers through her hair to tame the pieces sticking up.
This certainly wasn’t how Anya wanted to present herself to a former… client, but what could she do?
Knock, knock, knock. Chime.
“I swear to all that is holy, if she knocks and rings my doorbell one more time, I will be a murderer!” Anya stalked towards the front door but stopped short of opening it. Instead, Anya pushed the button on the intercom. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
Jaime’s head whipped up at the sound of Anastasia’s voice. It was lower than she remembered. Perhaps she had woken Anastasia up. And now that image was in Jaime’s head. She shook herself, trying to get rid of that thought. Anastasia…a bed…no! Stop! “You can open the door.”
What the hell are you grumpy for? I’m the one who was awakened from a deep sleep and pleasant dreams. “I don’t know why you’re here. Do you have a warrant?”
“I don’t need one just to talk to you, Ms. Grant.”
There it was again. Her name. “Did you follow me home?” Anya asked abruptly.
“If you open the door, we can discuss…”
“How do you know my name?”
“I’m a detective, Anastasia. May I call you Anastasia? I’m trained to ask questions and detect. And one of the questions I have is why your address on your car registration doesn’t match your physical address.”
So that’s how Jaime found information, Anya thought with another scowl. “Technically, it does.”
Jaime scoffed. “Yeah, I went there. You weren’t there, and they’ve never met you.”
“You…went there?” Great. Now my tenants think I’m some sort of criminal. Well, that’s spreading like an untended rash. “And when you didn’t find me there, you what? Followed me?”
“What are you hiding from, Anastasia? Why the fake address—which is illegal by the way? Why do you take a longer route when you can take a straight shot home and shave off fifteen minutes?”
Anya gestured to the door even though Jaime couldn’t see her. “Because of this! I don’t need my clients following me home and harassing me at my front door at a time when it should be illegal to be awake!”
Jaime physically recoiled at the word ‘client’.
She didn’t want to be thought of as Lady A’s client.
“I’m a cop, Anastasia. And despite my earlier discretion, I’m investigating a murder.
” Or five, Jaime corrected silently. But until she knew more about Anastasia’s involvement—or lack thereof—she would keep that to herself.
Anastasia also didn’t need to know that this wasn’t an official visit, and Jaime was here without Max’s knowledge. The less she knows, the better.
“I told you, Detective, I had nothing to do with Maisie’s murder. Now, if you would please leave.”
“I’m supposed to take the word of someone who lies about where they live?” Jaime didn’t want to grow annoyed with Anastasia; she just wanted to see that beautiful face.
Anya clenched her hands into fists, ready to beat the door in frustration. This woman was the most infuriating and stubborn person Anya had ever met.
“Are you going to arrest me for having the wrong address on my registration, Detective? You can’t pin a murder on me, but, hey, as long as I’m behind bars, you’re fine with that?”
“That’s not… I’m not here to arrest you, Anastasia.” Jaime blew out a breath. God, she didn’t want to arrest this woman. She prayed she’d never have to. “Can you open the door, please? I feel like a fool talking to you through a slab of wood.”
“Steel,” Anya corrected absently. “And if you’re not here to arrest me, there’s nothing more to say.”
Panic rose inside Jaime. She needed Anastasia to open the door.
She needed to see the woman behind Lady A.
Jaime hoped that by removing the mystery of Lady A, it would eliminate this ridiculous obsession she had with her.
But then the alternative floated into her mind.
What if Jaime only grew fonder of what she found here?
“I may not be here to arrest you, but I still need to verify your alibi, which means I will need to see that security video you mentioned. And I’ll need to talk to Derek.”
Anya froze. Did she just hear what she thought she did? “I’m sorry?”
“I’ll need to speak to Derek,” Jaime repeated. “You mentioned him the first time we spoke. If he was here that night, I’ll need him to corroborate your story. If not, I’ll need his whereabouts at the time of Maisie’s death.”
“You… you want to talk to Derek. My Derek.” Anya felt the corners of her mouth twitch. She didn’t even remember mentioning Derek to Jaime. Then again, each time they’d seen one another, the situation had been quite overwhelming.
“Yes.” Jaime didn’t particularly want to breathe the same air as the guy who was lucky enough to live with this woman, but still, she needed to speak to him.
Anya gritted her teeth to keep herself from laughing. “Ahem. He’s not very sociable. He’s talkative, but what he says doesn’t always make sense.”
“Anastasia, please stop stalling. Either I talk to him here and now, or I can take you both down to the station.”
“Oh!” Anya laughed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of Derek with tiny handcuffs being hauled down to the police station tickled her funny bone. “Well, I’m sure Derek wouldn’t appreciate that. He hates going outside.”
Jaime was bewildered by Anastasia’s amused tone. But whatever was perking Anastasia’s attitude, Jaime would take it if it meant she was going to get in the house.
“Fine, we can do the questioning here. Are you going to let me in, or do we have to do this in the front yard with your neighbor’s looking on?”
Anya knew Jaime was baiting her, but the truth was, Anya didn’t want her neighbors to know her business.
Even after more than four years of living in this house, she hadn’t made an effort to know them.
It was an unnecessary stress in Anya’s life.
She was perfectly fine with having only Derek for company.
He rarely judged her. And when he did, Anya only had to bribe him with treats to change his mind about her.
With a heavy sigh, Anya disengaged the locks on the door. “Stand back,” she requested before she fully opened the door. When Jaime took a step back, Anya stuck her head out, glancing around before giving Jaime a once-over. “Take your shoes off when you come in, please.”
Jaime nodded, turning her slim frame sideways to make it through the small opening Anastasia allowed.
None of the security measures escaped Jaime’s attention.
First, it was the misdirected address. Then the small declaration that the front door was steel.
Not to mention the video surveillance Anastasia had brought up before.
All of it, including Anastasia’s reluctance to let anyone into her home, piqued Jaime’s curiosity about the woman even further.
Was she hiding something or from something?