Page 16 of Ends of Being

I have a couple of options here. I could call for rescue, which seems a bit extreme given I don’t believe the dickhead is trying to kill me or anything, and obviously, him doing dirty things to me isn’t exactly a horrible idea. He really could work on his approach, though.

Given no other immediate alternatives, I guess I’m going to have to hoof it out of here, and thankfully, I’m once again wearing comfortable shoes. I pinpoint a location I would like to exit the forest from and slowly start picking my way toward the road. Other than some dense underbrush and a few pricker bushes, it’s pretty uneventful, though I’m not too keen on being lost in the woods ever again.

Of course, once I make it to the road, I have another decision to make on where to go from here. I’m not too far from town, so calling an Uber is probably fine; however, where to have an Uber bring me is the real question. My first inclination is to go right to Dare’s house and stab him for leaving me tied up in a bunker in the woods, but since I don’t actually know where he lives, that potential plan has to be put on hold.

This brings me to plan B; back to the local PD to get some fucking answers.

Dare

I didn’t want to leave her alone in the bunker. The last fucking thing I wanted to do was to leave that delectable morsel tied to a chair without me there. I don’t think I have to explain any further.

When the first call came through, I was hoping I could just ignore it, but that hope was quickly dashed when the second ringtone came through. We have this code when something is important enough to stop whatever we’re doing and check-in. I was still hopeful that the check-in would just be a quick conversation for orders, but unfortunately, that was not the case. Having to deal with this bullshit when I have much more delicate priorities really pisses me off.

And I know leaving her down there is going to set me back a few paces or a dozen because she’s not a forgiving type of woman. She will make a thing out of this for days, if not weeks, and since I can’t tell her the details of why I had to leave her there, she will definitely drive it right into the ground. Even if I tell her my having to go was to benefit her, she still won’t believe me without proof. I can’t give her proof without divulging a lot of information that she’s just not ready to hear. Honestly, she may never be in the right place to hear it, and if I have to keep taking the hits because of it, then I will.

I meet Tony—another reason I always use Antoinette—in the basement of a warehouse downtown. Most warehouses don’t have a basement, but this happens to be a warehouse I own, so I may have added a basement. Blueprints can be deceiving, and that’s the point.

Tony called to let me know there was some information I needed to attain from a person in his custody that could put somebody I care about in danger. I know Tony wouldn’t have called me unless he believed this to be true, but I also know he wouldn’t have told me it needed to be now if time was not truly of the essence.

So here I am, in the basement of a warehouse with Tony, one of his unnamed henchmen, and a crier chained to a wall, instead of in a bunker in the woods, teasing one furious hellcat.

Needless to say, I’m grumpy.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask with a good dose of sarcasm.

Tony laughs outright as he asks, “Did I interrupt a hot date or something?”

I scowl at him and say blandly, “Define hot date.”

His eyes widen, a look of excitement in his eyes as he cackles, “You finally did it!”

I tilt my head at him, leveling him with my most serious gaze. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

He throws his head back and laughs even harder. “You dirty dog, you finally went ahead with the—”

I reach out and cuff him in the head, cutting off whatever he thought he was going to say about Antoinette. He takes a step back and stops trying to speak, instead continuing to laugh at me while shaking his head in amusement…at my expense.

I’ve known Tony Andersen for a very long time. He may as well be a brother to me since he’s certainly as annoying as a blood relative, though maybe a bit more reliable. He knows everything about me, and I mean everything. That guy has so much dirt on me, I should probably marry him just to be protected by spousal privilege. I might even do so if I didn’t also have all the dirt on him. We are equals in dirt. We are dirt brothers.

The best thing about Tony is he’s ex-military, which means he is still military; he’s just not on the official roster anymore. He has all the skills, connections, and no-fucks to basically get done any job you could ever think of. And I have done some thinking over the last few years in an attempt to find a hard no for him, and so far, nothing. He’s all go, all the time. At least, for me.

But right now, he is still laughing at me.

“Seriously, Tony,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at him. “You’re being childish in front of our guest.”

Tony slowly gets control of his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. He gives me a sympathetic look, pats me on the shoulder, and says, “I’m proud of you, man. Finally taking that big first step toward your goal. It must have been scary to finally let go of the side of the pool like that and swim for the first time.”

Yes, Tony knows about Antoinette. I rue the day I had to tell him the sordid tale, and I wouldn’t have told him anything if not for needing his particular skill set to maneuver through some precarious situations that had come up since she flew into my life and blew it up entirely. Tony may josh me at every turn, but I’ve never doubted he has my back at any given moment, and in turn, would also have Antoinette’s if her safety were ever to become his responsibility.

Don’t get me wrong, I have every intention of staying alive so that job shouldn’t ever be a real issue for him, but I take some comfort knowing I have a backup plan for her if things go extra shitty. She would be even more pissed since he would likely have to give her all the information I withheld from her, but hopefully, she would see the truth behind it and allow him to help keep her safe. I would tell her everything myself if I thought she would be receptive to the cold hard facts, but I’m relatively certain she would only see the truth behind it if I was dead. More’s the pity, I guess.

Tony is grinning at me expectantly, likely waiting for me to take another shot at him. I shake my head at his antics, pointing at the crier as I ask, “What’s the story with the pissant?”

Tony turns serious quickly, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the crier as he explains, “This here is one of dickwad’s men. Got word he was overheard running his trap about a certain someone down at the local pub the other night. And from what I heard; it was not appropriate verbiage. About this particular someone, anyway.”

I stare at him stonily as I ask, “You called me out here over some hearsay?”

He squints at me, then in the most condescending voice he can possibly muster, says, “No, Darius. I called you out here over some pissant telling his cronies he has orders to snatch an Antoinette from a parking garage over near 6th. I just figured the likelihood of his Antoinette and your Antoinette being a different person were basically nil, so here he is, you ungrateful fucklicker, ready to answer your questions.”

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