Page 24 of Ends of Being

With how resourceful the true bad guys are, I find it hard to believe that somebody out there hasn’t managed to connect some dots between Chief Matt Shields and me. Which makes me wonder why anyone would even attempt to sign in with a false name, considering we all have eyes, and everyone and their mother would recognize that face. And since I know that all of these evil crime-lord people do everything for a purpose, I have to take a minute to try to contemplate what purpose that may be.

Some people use intimidation, but I highly doubt they believe intimidation tactics would work on me. I understand no one is infallible; however, when it’s my time, it’s my time, and I won’t go out begging.

Dickwad appears smaller in person. And older. That doesn’t detract from the deadness in his eyes as he stares at me. It takes all of my self-control not to smirk at the air of superiority surrounding him, and I know it’s not even intentional after decades of being the head honcho of a lot of dangerous people.

Dickwad doesn’t truly know me, though he may have heard of me. He may have seen me around here and there, maybe even found a calling card of mine a time or two. But he doesn’t actually know me.

All I know is that when all of this comes to light, if the truth ever comes full circle, he’ll have no choice but to drop a hammer on all of us for what we did. It doesn’t matter if it was accidental, and it doesn’t matter if it was deserved. In fact, the circumstances that led up to the end don’t actually matter at all. He will have no choice.

He levels his gaze at me. He isn’t smiling, but he also isn’t posturing or acting aggressively. He looks tired. “Why did you have to let him go?”

I’ll admit, I’m startled. Is this the first question he’s going to ask me? I’m not even entirely certain who he is referring to, though it is a pretty short list of men I have ever let go. I’m almost certain he’s referring to pissant. Someone who I did not intend to let go, but once he finished spilling all of his dirty secrets, I felt I had no choice but to use him to deliver my message. A little bait and switch, if you will.

I’m not normally thrown off. I’m very rarely surprised. However, right now, I’m at a loss for words because never in a million years would I have seen those words coming out of his mouth.

I cock my head, raising my eyebrows almost like a question. “I haven’t the foggiest idea who you’re referring to.”

He stares at me, his arms coming up to cross over his chest as he snorts, “Like fuck you don’t, Dare. You intentionally let that little asshole go so he could deliver me a message. If you’d just kept your fucking mouth shut, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Okay, now I’m definitely flummoxed. In what fucking alternate universe would a head honcho, like dickwad, meet with me to tell me that I should’ve kept my mouth shut. It’s a pretty well-known fact that when something is done to the family, restitution will be sought regardless of circumstances, and what dickwad seems to be saying to me right now is the opposite of that.

I glare at him, my hackles rising as I say, “And how would I know that? What you’re insinuating right now goes against everything you all have ever said about loyalty, family, and the job.”

He strolls over to the table and pulls out a chair, turning it around backward and sitting down with his arms crossed over the back. He levels a serious look at me, shaking his head. “All you did was show them your weakness. Now they have a weapon to use against you, just like they try to have a weapon against all of us.”

This conversation keeps getting more and more insane, and I’m almost afraid to keep on with it for fear of what other insights might come to light. Having no other choice, I continue, “Who is it you’re referring to? Because I was under the impression you were the person I had to worry about.”

He looks me dead in the eye as he softly replies, “The Dead.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as a chill runs down my spine, but I remain outwardly unfazed, unblinking as dickwad stares at me knowingly.

Well, fuck.

Toni

I was right. Tony Andersen is kind of a fucker. But he’s the kind of fucker that grows on you. You get so accustomed to having him around you almost don’t even notice he’s a fucker anymore—he’s just Tony. It’s all fucking weird, just like this fucked-up situation.

When Tony said he was going to stay with me, he was not at all exaggerating. Somehow, stuff just started magically appearing in my apartment until he had basically moved himself right in. It wasn’t anything we discussed or anything I agreed to; it just happened.

I haven’t heard a peep from Dare or that prick Chief Shields since I saw Dare carted off in cuffs. Tony did show me where Dare had been booked on kidnapping charges and that he was denied bail, so he’s still in jail. Which makes me chuckle a little because Dare insinuated it would be impossible for me to get him thrown into jail, but there he sits.

I can’t decide if I feel bad about it or not. Every now and then, I get a bit morose about him being in there, but then usually, I get right back to furious because he basically begged for it with all his kidnapping and stalker-like antics. Never mind the fact he’s quite likely a murderer, but I try not to think about that part too much.

I’ve decided, though, I’d rather he not end up in jail for a long period of time because I kind of miss messing with him. My favorite pastime used to be giving the boring accountant down the hall a hard time. I’m entirely certain that winding up the bad-boy accountant down the hall would be even more fun, once he has adequately explained exactly what has happened and what will happen, of course.

But back to this fucker, Tony.

It’s frightening how much information Tony can withhold while it feels like he’s openly sharing information with you. It isn’t until long after the conversation is over that you realize he didn’t tell you anything.

Tony is also a master at getting you to do whatever he wants without you even realizing that you’re not doing what you wanted to do. It’s infuriating. Then he convinces you that it’s in your best interest to do what he says, to such an extent that you truly feel like you can’t argue with him about it. I don’t understand it. It’s like hypnosis. It’s just fucked up.

The first thing Tony convinced me to do was to work from home for the week. He has literally been my shadow, which should’ve been extremely annoying if not for him being such a great roommate. He cleans up after himself, cooks, and even does the laundry. Like, who does that?

And even after being cooped up with this guy for three or four days, he still isn’t super irritating. I mean, I often get on my own nerves after three or four days, so it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I live alone. I like things a certain way, and very few people have ever liked things the way I’ve liked them before.

Unfortunately, Tony is a closed book whenever I mention anything about Dare. His past, present, or future—nothing at all. I mean, I totally get it. It’s obvious they’ve known each other for a long time, and “bro-code” aside, you don’t talk about your friends behind their backs, even if said friend has kidnapped, restrained, locked up, and possibly murdered people.

I’ll admit to being a little envious of that kind of loyalty. I’ve always been more of the lone wolf, mostly content to find my own way, but I suppose having a strong support system would be beneficial overall. On the other side of that, it sounds like a lot of work. So far, I haven’t found a lot of people who were too keen on putting up with my shit unless it was going their way. People love a good-time girl, but surprise, surprise, they’re not so keen on the shut-the-fuck-up girl.

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