Page 20 of Declan

Then Tony adds, “Please don't get her started. If it's not a thing, she's gonna think she can make it a thing, and I don't know if that really needs to be a thing.”

I glance back over at the two women assessingly, then turn back to the two men and say, “I think it could be a thing. But I suppose a mask kink is a mask kink regardless.”

They’re once again staring at the two women, and then they kind of nod, but I drop it and change the subject. “Do you think they're gonna be done soon?”

They shrug, and Tony answers. "Who knows? They haven’t asked him any real questions yet, so I imagine it'll be a bit longer.”

“Or,” Dare interjects. “Antoinette is doing her little manipulative questioning tactic, which means she’s almost done.”

Tony makes a face and mutters, “I hate it when she does that.”

"What is she doing?"

“This newfangled psychological torture that she read about in one of her research documents,” Dare replies. “Somehow, she manages to extract pertinent information by asking seemingly innocuous questions. He'll end up feeding her exactly what she wants to know without even realizing that he’s singing like a canary. It’s likely he won’t even know what this was all about.”

Tony nods beside him and then adds, “Which may be a better option than us going out there and pounding the shit out of him, asking him direct questions as to why he's being a mean douchebag to his girlfriend. There’s a time and place for the whole art of subtlety.”

“I could be subtle,” Dare says rather huffily. “There's a time and a place for it, and I usually don't think that it's the time or place.”

“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face, maybe,” Tony mutters under his breath.

Dare narrows his eyes and retorts, “As if you're one to talk, Mr. Fuck Around Guy.”

I sigh and shake my head. “Are you sure you two aren’t blood-related?”

Both men laugh, and Tony answers. “Not likely.”

“Are you ever serious?” I ask patiently. “Because I’ve heard some people are completely over your tendency to use humor as a way to disassociate from the everyday stresses of your criminal lives.”

They both frown at me and then look at each other. Finally, Tony turns back to me and says, “How I decide to manage my own coping mechanisms isn’t anyone else’s business.”

“Yeah,” Dare adds, then pauses for a few moments, obviously thinking over his words before he continues, “Those people can fuck all the way off.”

“Hey, that was poetic, man.” Tony laughs.

Dare gives him a dirty look and punches him in the arm. I sit back and listen to the two men continue to joke about people minding their own business and all the reasons there’s no way we’re all blood-related.

I turn my attention back to the two women, still playing with the man tied up. I can't make out what Antoinette says to him, but I quite clearly hear him reply, “You bitches wouldn't be so brave if I wasn't tied to this chair.”

This makes both women laugh, and then Antoinette says clearly, “If you really wanna fuck around, we can fuck around."

Dare groans next to me, and Tony smiles fondly as I ask, “Would she actually let him loose?”

Both men nod, and Dare replies, “She certainly fucking would. She doesn't like being challenged, and it’s obvious that dumb fucker truly believes he could take both of those women, which means he’s more delusional than I thought.”

"If Nettie considered him a real threat to her life,” Tony explains. “She would never untie him. But I don't believe she's concerned that he could harm her, and I highly doubt he's overly skilled in the art of hand-to-hand combat.”

Taking that as my cue, I tug the mask Antoinette provided for me over my head, turning to check out my reflection in the mirror. I nod in appreciation, the overall effect not lost on me. I kind of get it.

I pull out the leather gloves Tony gifted me for my last birthday and slide my hands in, also understanding what he means by the feeling you get when you know you're gonna fuck around.

I walk around the outskirts of the room, then step out of the shadows so I'm walking directly toward him, and he can watch me coming. I'm dressed the part in a tailored suit, and the mask distorts my voice just enough it’s likely he won’t recognize my voice.

I stop directly in front of him, staring at his arrogant, prick face, and my urge to rip off my mask and wrap my leather-clad hands around his throat is overwhelming. He may not have hurt Issa outwardly, but I know he's hurt her emotionally and mentally, and as far as I'm concerned, that's a death sentence all on its own.

When we were growing up, Dare used to talk about the animal who gnawed at him, about how he had this other side of him, this dark beast that clawed to get out. I mostly understood what he was referring to, having felt it a time or two myself, but it wasn’t until recently it truly resonated with me.

I feel it now, that gnarly demon thrashing about, wanting to be freed from the constraints of morality, societal norms, and my own obsessive-compulsive need to remain in control.

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