Jami stared at the ceiling and contemplated counting sheep to try and fall asleep. Dawn had arrived hours ago and still nothing. With her eyes open or closed all she saw was Sondra’s lifeless body. And if she closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax, Sondra’s facial features began to morph into her own.
She wanted to scream as her frustrations roiled beyond the boiling point. Her brain needed rest.
Hell, she deserved a few hours of peace that didn’t involve dead people or her stressing about what might come next. Didn’t she?
She rolled to her side, punched at her pillow to make it more comfortable and tried to conjure her happy place. What was that supposed to even look like? She’d moved to South Carolina in the hopes that she would find someplace to belong. Her mother had lived here way back when and Jami had always been curious about what her life had been like.
She snorted. Who was she kidding? She’d come here hoping to find some sort of information about the man who had fathered her. Except she had nothing to go on to even point her in the right direction. Before her mother’s rapid descent into her own prescription drug and alcohol addiction she’d shared next to no useful information. A one night stand with a gorgeous stranger she’d said.
A man who could see into her mind.
With thoughts of familial frustration occupying her mind, Jami felt the vestiges of sleep finally pull at her consciousness. Her limbs were growing heavy and holding her eyelids open became difficult.
She sighed, snuggling into her pillow. Finally…
Just as sleep overtook her, a loud crash filled her thoughts. She immediately wanted to cry. Why couldn’t her mind just let it go for a little while?
More loud banging startled her alert. What the—?
She jumped from the bed as she tried to process what had happened. Then the banging started again and she finally realized that the sounds were not in her head. Someone was pounding on her door.
Again, what the hell? She glanced at her bedside clock to find it was three o’clock in the afternoon. When had that happened? The sun had only just come up. Hadn’t it?
Disoriented, she staggered to the door and tried to look through the peep hole. Unfortunately, the person on the other side of the door chose that moment to bang so hard on her door it vibrated against her face. Jami jumped back on a squeak.
“I can hear you in there,” a strong male voice from the other side of the door said in a heavy accent. What was he? Russian, maybe?
“Stop banging,” she whispered, her brain still not fully processing the events going on.
“Open the door and I won’t have to bang on it.”
Jami’s mouth dropped open. How had he heard her? The only redeeming quality to this crappy apartment was the inches thick solid wood door.
“Who are you?” she asked, realizing right after the words left her mouth how idiotic she sounded.
“My name is Maxim Drago. I need to speak with Ms. Jami Raye. That is you, yes?”
He spoke his exotic sounding name as if it was supposed to mean something to her. Hmmm. She wracked her brain trying to remember how she might know that name. Was he a client? Her heart picked up speed.
“I’m not sure why you're here, or how you found your way to my door, but I don’t see clients outside the rec center. If you need something you can go there. Someone is always on duty.”
“Ms. Raye, I assure you I do not require your normal services. I simply need information. If you’ll open the door—”
“I’m not opening the door.” She shook her head as if to reinforce that thought to herself. She should absolutely not open her door. She glanced down at the locks and breathed a sigh of relief to see she had remembered to lock the deadbolt when she’d come in the night before.
Her brain had not been functioning at its highest level when she’d returned home from the mortuary. It would not have surprised her to find it unlocked.
“Ms. Raye,” he paused, as if just her name from his lips would have some affect on her.
And it did.
