Page 97 of Going Deep
Simon and Lola were likely still at the club, so knocking on Lola’s door wouldn’t get him anywhere. But Anna and Grant hadn’t been at Odyssey. Grant had been out of town for most of the week, and he often preferred the quiet of home after travel.
She could be there, and if she wasn’t, Anna might know where she was.
Out on the street, Michael dug out his phone and dialed Grant’s number.
After two rings, the line engaged and Anna answered. “Hello?”
“Anna,” he began, “it’s Michael. Can you?—?”
Click.
He frowned at his phone, the display showing the call had ended. Odd. He hit the button to place the call again.
“Hello?”
“Anna, I’m sorry. I think my phone?—”
Click.
Shocked, he stared at the blank screen. That wasn’t a dropped call. She was hanging up on him.
Torn between laughter and frustration, he brought up his rideshare app. If Anna was going to hang up on him, he’d just show up on her doorstep. “See how she likes that,” he muttered.
Twenty minutes later, he found out when she slammed the door in his face.
He burst out laughing, shaking his head. She’d moved so quickly he hadn’t even had time to wedge his foot in the door. And the look on her face? Flaming fury. Dragon at the gate.
He determinedly rang the bell again. He’d stand there all night if he had to, but he’d seen Grant’s car on the street. Eventually, his friend would get suspicious and come to see for himself what was going on.
When the door opened, he braced himself for a confrontation. But it was Grant, not Anna, on the other side, with the faithful Henry beside him.
Surprise flashed in Grant’s blue eyes. “Michael? What are you doing here?”
“Cutting my own throat, most likely,” he answered drily, and since Henry was shoving his head under his hand, gave the dog a pat.
Grant looked blank for a moment, then understanding—and amusement—flashed in his eyes. “I take it this isn’t the first time you rang the bell tonight.”
Michael shook his head. “Slammed the door in my face.”
Grant let out a bark of laughter. “She said you were Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“I called a couple of times, too,” Michael informed him. “Your number. She hung up on me.”
Grant’s eyes began to gleam. “Did she, now?”
There was no doubt a punishment in Anna’s future, but Michael didn’t care. “Do you know where she is?”
Grant didn’t pretend to not to know who Michael was talking about. “It's about time you got your head out of your ass. You’ve been to her place already?”
Michael nodded. “She’s not there, and not answering her phone.”
“Anna probably knows where she is. You want to ask her?”
“Can you keep her from gutting me with her chef’s knife?”
Grant stepped back. “Probably not, but I’ll tell her if she makes you bleed, then I get to make her bleed. That ought to take care of it.”
Michael’s lips twitched with reluctant humor. Considering Anna’s aversion to any kind of blood play, that just might work.
