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 hellisthat?” 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 topunish 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 didnotsay 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, Iwillbe 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 routewhen you can take a straight shot home and shave off fifteen minutes?”
