Page 44 of Tell Me Your Desires

Chapter Twenty-Three

Anya was up and pacing again, but this time it wasn’t because of Jaime’s insane plan. No, this pacing was courtesy of the information Jaime had just given Anya. Information that had come directly from Max.

“I need to see the files,” Anya said, distracted.

“I haven’t even seen them yet.” Jaime looked up in time to see Anya’s expression.

This was a different side to the woman she was quickly becoming attached to.

It wasn’t Lady A or Anya. No, this was Dr. Anastasia Grant.

Special Agent, Jaime silently reminded herself, feeling only a little envious.

“I think, with your background, we could say you’re a consultant and get you those files.

But the plan can’t wait, Anya. You’ve given us a good profile to start with. ”

“What if I’m wrong?”

Jaime wouldn’t show it, but she was surprised by the sudden lack of confidence in Anya’s voice.

“And even if I’m right, everyone at that club knows you’re a cop, Jaime. You’re inherently untrusting. Your unsub won’t be able to use his charm on you the way he did the others. He will ambush you.”

“That’s why I’ll have backup. Max will be waiting outside the club for me, and he’s pulling a few bodies he trusts to sit on my place.” Jaime cleared her throat. “And here.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Anya shook her head and lifted a hand. “I don’t want anyone surveilling me. I’ve told you that, Jaime.”

“It’s not surveillance. It’s protection.” Jaime stood and blocked Anya from pacing any further. “We need to catch this guy. I understand what I’m proposing is unorthodox, but undercover cops have been doing unorthodox things for a long time to close cases.”

Anya lifted a brow. “Including having sex on camera with a dominatrix?”

Jaime’s insides ached hearing those words. Just the idea that they’d ever been intimate had her hands clammy all over again. “It’s less deadly than a lot of other shit that happens when UCs fall down those crazy rabbit holes.”

“The five women who have been killed and dismembered after having sex with me would probably disagree with you.” Though those words had been said without emotion, Anya felt the guilt along with an ache deep inside for their incredible loss.

“Hey,” Jaime whispered as she caressed Anya’s cheek. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Mm.” Anya pulled away from Jaime’s touch and again distracted herself with unnecessary work in the kitchen.

“Your hesitation, your…fear, isn’t just about this case, is it?”

“Jaime.”

Jaime reached out and took one of Anya’s fidgeting hands. “Talk to me, please. This whole listening thing goes both ways, and I’m actually quite good at it.” She squeezed Anya’s hand. “Let me in, please?”

The last person Anya let in had betrayed her, but Jaime wasn’t that person. Anya knew it deep down. She felt it as a psychologist and as a woman whose heart was quickly softening for a certain detective.

“More tea?”

Jaime laughed. “Now who’s stalling?”

“Now who’s psychoanalyzing?” Anya countered with a smirk. “And I’m not stalling. I just think better with something in my hands.”

“Fine. More tea. But I’ll need to use your restroom while you make it.”

Anya chuckled and pointed towards the bathroom door, mumbling ‘lightweight’ as Jaime passed her by.

When Jaime disappeared behind the bathroom door, Anya’s smile faded.

It was quickly followed by a heavy sigh.

This was a story she could have gone the rest of her life without repeating.

Yet, surprisingly, the idea of telling Jaime brought a strange sense of relief.

“Okay! I’m ready for another round of tea. Liquid and otherwise.”

Anya made it a point not to ‘doomscroll’ on social media, but that didn’t mean she was unfamiliar with the lingo young people used these days. “How old are you, Detective?”

Jaime hesitated in her step. “Thirty-six. Why?”

Anya shook her head. Age had never mattered to her. In her mind, age was nothing more than a number when it came to two consenting adults. She only thought about it when she heard those trendy terms that made her laugh… or cringe.

“Just curious.” Anya lifted a shoulder. “Come on. Let’s utilize my backyard while it’s a nice day. I’ll tell you why I left the FBI.”

Jaime had no choice but to follow Anya. She was already halfway out the back door before she had even finished her sentence. Derek zipped past Jaime, brushing her leg as he zoomed outside behind Anya. Since Anya hadn’t freaked out—like Jaime nearly had—she assumed this was an acceptable situation.

Anya crawled up onto a round, oversized porch swing and patted the space next to her for Jaime to join her.

Jaime stared, then blinked repeatedly before she managed to get her mouth working. “You have a floating bed in your backyard.”

Anya laughed. “I was going to correct you and tell you it was a hanging daybed, but—”

“But that’s exactly what I just said.” Jaime sat gingerly on the edge of the floating bed, bouncing slightly to test the strength of the ropes holding it in place.

“What are you doing?”

Jaime bounced again. “Making sure this thing will hold us.”

“It will.”

Jaime glanced over her shoulder at Anya with a raised brow. “You’ve tested it with two people then?”

“No, but the weight limit is at least three times what we weigh together, and I’ve definitely tested the bounce factor.”

Jaime had been so busy studying the hardware that held the hanging daybed that she almost missed Anya’s admission. “E-excuse me?”

“I can tell you that story or the FBI story. Pick one.”

“Oh, you are evil.” Jaime abandoned her irrational fear of falling two feet should the daybed crash to the ground and settled in beside Anya. “I pick… the FBI story. Only because I fully intend to test the bounce factor on this thing with you myself.”

Anya’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. She watched on as Jaime found a comfortable position, her long legs stretched out and crossed. Anya would admit that she enjoyed seeing Jaime so relaxed here. “You surprise me with how patient you can be,” Anya confessed.

Jaime snorted. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered by that.”

Since Anya wasn’t sure how she meant it either, she merely smiled. “I’m just saying that you must keep this side of yourself reserved for victims or witnesses because I’ve been on the other side, and you’re quite surly.”

“Surly,” Jaime repeated. “I prefer to think of it as unflinchingly committed to seeking justice for those who need help.”

“Oh my. That was…” Anya rolled her eyes dramatically, causing Jaime to laugh.

“It may sound cheesy, but it’s true.” Jaime clasped her hands behind her head and stared up.

“I guess I can be surly with suspects. I think I’m getting to know you a little, though.

Rushing you to talk is a good way to either get you to clam up or to walk out completely.

” Jaime turned on her side and gazed back at Anya.

“I already feel like I’m pushing too hard.

If I am, I’m sorry about that. Normally I’d wait until you were good and ready to let it all out, but I don’t think we have that luxury right now, Anya.

” Jaime stroked a fingertip up the inside of Anya’s wrist. “If we’re going to be on the same page with all of this, I need to know what’s holding you back. ”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not sure I’ll ever be on the same page with you regarding your plan to use yourself as bait. However,” Anya continued before Jaime could argue with her, “I do owe you my story.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Jaime never wanted Anya to think she had to do this. While Jaime desperately wanted to know what was going on inside Anya’s head, she couldn’t force it out of her. If this woman chose to clam up in the next few minutes, there was nothing Jaime could do about it.

“No, I do. Not because you told me yours, but because you deserve to know who you’re getting involved with.

Romantically and—if you get your way—professionally.

” Anya paused briefly. “I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to say to you, Jaime.

There’s an official account of what happened, and then there’s the truth. ”

“I’m listening,” Jaime said softly, echoing the words Anya had said to her earlier.

Anya took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth.

Derek must’ve sensed her anxiety because he’d abandoned whatever mischief he had been up to and jumped up into her lap.

He turned three times, made a few biscuits as cats did, and then lay down, purring softly as Anya scratched his head.

“We were working a high-profile kidnapping case—a sixteen-year-old girl.” Anya began. “Every kidnapping is brutal, but this one had the added pressure of being the daughter of a councilman. Who also happened to be a good friend of the Special Agent in Charge.”

“So the scrutiny was high, and the leash was short,” Jaime guessed.

“Exactly. As you know, the first 48 hours, in any case, are the most crucial. The councilman wanted that cut in half. It was his daughter. We obviously understood his desperation, but this kidnapper was very meticulous. Dead-end evidence, no DNA, no leads. None of that mattered, though. When you’re a politician and a friend of the boss, things tend to get fast-tracked. ”

“Including a profile, I’m assuming?”

“Yes.” Anya sighed. “What I do is based on many different aspects of a case. Some cases speak for themselves. But others?” She shook her head.

“I hadn’t even had time to investigate the crime before I was asked to identify a person who would or could do this.

Then, a file was thrown on my desk, and I was told the SAC wanted my profile by the end of the day. ”

“What was in the file?” Jaime asked, wholly engrossed in Anya’s story. She and Max had taken a few ‘shortcuts’ before to get to justice, but nothing that would compromise a case or their colleagues.