Page 2 of My End
Not one of the staff.
And not part of the game I’d planned to play.
But something about her stuck.
I turned my head when I heard the front door open.
Jim stepped out and buttoned his jacket like I’d shown up five minutes early and ruined his groove. “Jake,” he called and walked toward me with measured steps. “You made it.”
Jim was all angles in his suit tailored within an inch of his life. He had a military stance and a jaw so sharp he could’ve cut drywall with it.
“Right on time,” I replied and shook his hand like I was grateful to be here.
“Yes, you are. Things are starting to brew with Boone and Gibbs; they want everything locked down. Tightened up. No surprises.”
I nodded. “Glad to be here. I’m ready to help however I can.”
He gave me a once-over. “You come recommended by Max.”
Max.
The only reason I was standing here.
We’d gone to high school together.
Max had a hate for the government. Just politicians in general. He wanted to see them all taken down.
I wasn’t going to screw it up.
“Come inside,” Jim said, already turning. “I’ll give you the tour. You’ll be staying on-site.”
I nodded again, but my eyes flicked up.
She was still at the window.
Watching.
Unmoving.
There was something about the stillness, like she wasn’t just watching me. Like she was trying to figure out what I was doing here.
I followed Jim up the steps and into the mansion. The heavy door shut behind me like the lid on a coffin.
I was in.
And now, it was only a matter of time before the whole house of cards came crashing down.
The scent of polished wood, cold marble, and old money hit me all at once. The foyer was straight out of some kind of glossy architecture spread, with double-height ceilings, a staircase that split halfway up like a forked tongue, and a chandelier so massive it looked like it needed its own support system.
The walls were creamy white with gold accents, and the floors were smooth stone. Everything gleamed like someone had been through with a toothbrush and a damn laser level.
“This way,” Jim said and turned left.
I followed as my boots thudded softly on the tile.
We passed through an archway into a sitting room the size of a school gym, with couch clusters arranged with military precision. There was a baby grand piano and a fireplace that looked like it had never been lit.
“All of this is open access,” Jim said. “You’ll see other staff around, housekeeper, grounds, chef, a couple of floaters. You don’t answer to them, and they don’t answer to you.”
