Page 26 of Tell Me Your Desires

Jaime shook her head. “He wasn’t facing the camera.

” She closed her eyes, reminded of the look on Taylor’s face when the bullet had ripped through her chest. That image would be seared on Jaime’s brain for the rest of her life.

“Taylor saved that woman’s life and got killed for it.

That’s what it’s like out there. The women are beaten into submission, beaten into betraying those who try to help. ”

Now it all made sense. Jaime’s reaction to Lady A.

Her guilt and her need for punishment. And even her need to get Lady A out of her system.

Without closure, Anya wasn’t sure Jaime could move on.

But if Jaime really wanted Anya out, what Anya was about to say would probably help speed that up.

She could keep her mouth shut and let Jaime remain on the destructive path she was on, but Jaime was right.

Maisie deserved the detective’s full attention.

“Jaime, I’ve heard you blame yourself, Taylor, and the woman being assaulted.

You’ve even blamed me.” Anya held up her hand.

“It was easy for you to see me as a killer because of the trauma you’ve been through.

But I haven’t heard you blame the one person whose fault it is.

The person responsible for pulling the trigger. ”

“That’s… I did…” Jaime frowned. Surely, she had blamed the fucker who did this. It was futile to try and remember everything she had just said. It was a story she’d told before, but this was the first time anyone had ever called out a huge omission. “Obviously, he’s guilty, too.”

Anya shook her head. “Not too. He is the only one in this that deserves blame laid at his feet.” She didn’t miss the weariness in Jaime’s eyes and had to wonder how long it had been since Jaime had allowed herself a good night’s sleep.

She kicked herself for not offering Jaime a more comfortable place to sit while airing out her troubles. Anya stood and held out a hand.

“Come with me.”

Jaime’s weariness turned into anxiety. “Um, where?”

Anya smiled softly. She still doesn’t trust me. “Just to the sofa, Jaime. I’m not the type of woman who takes advantage of someone when they’re vulnerable.”

Jaime bristled at being called vulnerable.

She was a freakin’ cop. But as she looked up at Anya’s unwavering gaze, Jaime realized it was true.

She got up—against her better judgment—and took Anya’s hand.

This woman was still a person of interest in a murder investigation.

Even if Jaime didn’t think Anya was guilty, that didn’t mean she wasn’t somehow involved.

And that’s your prejudice talking. You think that because the woman Taylor saved did nothing to help, Anya is the same way.

She hasn’t kicked your ass out yet. Shouldn’t that prove she’s different?

“Sit,” Anya ordered.

“Do you always order people around?” Jaime teased.

“Only when they need it.” Anya tossed Jaime a blanket.

When she received a questioning look, she laughed lightly.

“There’s a reason for the term security blanket.

Being wrapped up in a soft, warm embrace of a fluffy blanket does wonders for the psyche.

Don’t you have something that makes you feel… safe?”

It was on the tip of Jaime’s tongue to say Taylor, but that would have been a lie.

She made Taylor feel safe. At least that was what Taylor told her all the time.

And though Jaime could relax around Taylor, she was always on alert.

She draped the blanket over her and settled back onto the comfy couch.

Oh, it’s weighted. Jaime felt instantly soothed, but she shouldn’t have been surprised.

This entire place was soothing, and she’d only ventured into the kitchen and the living room.

“No, I guess I don’t. I’ve never thought about things like this.” Jaime surreptitiously sniffed the soft blanket. It smelled cleaner than anything in her apartment. The scent was as calming as the blanket itself. And it was a scent Jaime now associated with Anastasia.

“You should. As silly as it may seem, it helps.” Anya cuddled under her own blanket, briefly wondering if she should have made some tea before settling in.

What was silly was Detective Jaime Baros sitting on a plush couch, wrapped in the softest blanket she’d ever felt, with a suspect. Person of interest, Jaime corrected silently. What was absurd was that she felt… safe. And comfortable. And really fucking tired.

Anya watched Jaime’s eyelids get heavier.

Her goal in bringing Jaime over to the couch was so Jaime could relax.

She had been so tense while talking about what happened, Anya wanted to relieve some of that tension.

Why she cared after being accused of murder, she didn’t know.

But she did. And instead of continuing a conversation where Anya was completely aware Jaime didn’t fully address the skewed blame, she sat quiet.

If Jaime needed to speak, Anya would listen.

However, Anya suspected what Jaime really needed was to close her eyes and let go of her past, if only for a few minutes of inner peace.