Page 17 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Diem

W hen I agreed to cooperate, Ace’s number one—he had yet to properly introduce himself—glided to a sideboard where he poured himself a drink from a stoppered decanter. He swirled the rich amber liquid around the tumbler, admiring it under the low light of an overhead chandelier.

“Black Maple Hill,” he announced. “A sixteen-year-old premium bourbon whiskey. Absolutely delectable. Are you a whiskey drinker, Mr. Krause?” He filled a shot glass and handed it to the Bishop. “It might help dull his pain.”

The Bishop pressed the glass to my mouth and tipped. I swallowed indulgently, letting the smooth burn coat my esophagus and warm my belly. Fuck yes. I needed about fifty more of those.

The pompous man in the suit grinned. “Good, isn’t it?

It really should be savored, not slammed, but ah well.

” He aerated his own drink by swirling it in the glass.

Bringing it to his nose, he closed his eyes and deeply inhaled before humming with pleasure.

“Yes. Lovely. Nougat, honey, and brown sugar, with a hint of marzipan in the background. I’d offer you a proper tumbler to sip from, but alas, your hands are tied, and I don’t trust you enough to free them. ”

“Wise. I’d fucking kill you.”

The man tsk ed, angling the glass in a cheers motion. “To deals yet to be struck. Shall they come to pass without excess bloodshed.” He sipped as he paced. The leather pouch containing the card peeked from the pocket of his suit jacket, where he’d safely stowed it.

The Bishop resumed cleaning my wounds. I ignored him, doing all I could to not react when he hit an especially tender spot.

Any other time, I’d have told him to fuck off.

My face was a blistering bruise of agony, but it was nothing compared to the throb resonating from the back of my head.

The longer I was conscious, the worse it seemed to get, stealing the show and making it hard not to spit nails or growl.

My nerves popped and jumped, and the more I listened to Echo’s distress in the distance, the harder it was to keep my temper in check. I wanted to raze the fucking ground under these assholes and get my dog back. I wanted to put the smarmy bastard in front of me six feet under.

Mr. Pinstripe savored his drink as he watched the Bishop tend my wounds. The waiting was too much.

“Who are you?” I asked when the drinking and observing went on for too long.

“You may refer to me as…” He puckered his lips and examined the amber liquor as though considering something clever.

If he thought to impress me with his little act, he failed.

The answer rolled off his tongue a moment later.

“You can call me il Consigliere.” Smirking, he helped himself to another sip.

“Fancy enough for my position. Yes, I think I like that. ”

A curl of humor hooked the side of the Bishop’s mouth. His counterpart didn’t seem to notice.

“Now tell me, Diem Krause. Why are you in possession of Ace’s property?”

I flashed my attention to the card once again. “Give me another shot, and I’ll talk.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“I’m in fucking pain.”

The Consigliere considered and granted my request, using a proper tumbler and filling it with at least two fingers of the expensive bourbon. The Bishop poured it cautiously down my throat.

I sighed.

“Now, why are you in possession of Ace’s property?” the man asked again.

“Someone gave it to me.”

The Consigliere stared as though waiting for more.

“I don’t know who he was,” I added.

“He was a dying man behind the Niagara apartments.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If you already knew, why are you asking?”

“The thing is, Mr. Krause. You have interfered in our business, and Ace is displeased.”

“Speak fucking English. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The man tsk ed and sipped his drink one last time before handing the glass to the Bishop and shooing him away. Crouching so we were eye to eye—yet keeping smartly out of head-butting range—he continued. “What happened to the man in the alley?”

A thousand thoughts raced through my beaten brain, but I didn’t know where he was going with this. “He went to the hospital. He was hurt. I called for help, and an ambulance came. I don’t know anything else. ”

The man seemed to consider before tipping his head to the side in question. “Are you saying he was conscious?”

“Yes, at first.”

At this, the Consigliere, or whatever his stupid fucking name was, glanced at the Bishop with utter disdain. “Further failure on your part.”

“I was interrupted. I told you.”

To me, the suave gentleman asked, “And this man spoke to you, Mr. Krause?”

“Yes. He told me to take that card and get rid of it.” I motioned with a tip of my head.

“Get rid of it,” the man repeated, skepticism written all over his face. “What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“What else did he say?”

“Nothing. He could barely talk because someone had crushed his windpipe.” I lanced a hostile glare at the Bishop, who remained unaffected.

“I was following orders, Mr. Krause,” the Bishop said. “I told you. I punish sinners, and Clarence’s had caught up with him. You reap what you sow.”

To Ace’s number one, I said, “Look, I was about to toss the fucking card into a dumpster like the guy wanted, then I got jumped by you freaks. If I’d known who the owner was, I’d have given it back days ago.

You have it now. Untie me and go on with your merry fucking lives.

I don’t give a shit who you are or what you do.

I was never going to keep it. I don’t want it. ”

“This isn’t about the card, Mr. Krause,” Pinstripe said.

“Bullshit. Then why are we talking about it?”

“I’m concerned about the man you took it from. ”

“I told you. He was sent to the hospital. I don’t know what happened from there. He could have died for all I know.”

“He didn’t, and he’s not there anymore.”

“Well, that’s not my fucking problem.”

“But you see, Ace disagrees. That man is your fucking problem, Mr. Krause, because he’s supposed to be dead, and because of you, he is not.”

I glanced between the Bishop and the Consigliere with disbelief. “Who the fuck are you people?”

“That is not your concern.” The Consigliere rose and waved for the Bishop to return his glass. He paced the room and sipped his drink, examining the wall hangings as though seeing them for the first time.

When he spoke again, it was to a faded tapestry.

“This is the situation, Mr. Krause. Ace wants blood. Either you deliver his original target so he can complete the transaction they agreed upon over a year ago, or we’ll need to find my boss a replacement, and the thing is, he’s a hard man to please. ”

The man pivoted to face me, chin high as he flaunted his authority. He snapped his fingers at the Bishop. “Get me the tablet.”

The Bishop moved to a short table by a divan and retrieved the device. He handed it to the other man, who passed off his drink once again. For a long minute, the Consigliere’s focus remained on the tablet.

With a clearer head, I spent a second examining the room.

No windows. One door. The air was cool but not in an artificial way.

Dampness surrounded me, making me think we were underground.

A basement, perhaps. An old building. A distant rumble caught my attention, and I swore I felt vibrations under my feet.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened either.

A subway? We were close to the subway line, but which one? Where ?

The Consigliere found what he was looking for and cleared his throat.

He plastered on a smug expression as he strolled toward me and turned the tablet.

The moment I realized what I was looking at, the oxygen punched from my lungs in a draining whoosh .

A different kind of pain surfaced. Not physical, but emotional.

Crippling. A wave of fear knocked me over.

On the screen, Nana sat in her rocker, fingers tangled in mauve yarn as she pretended to knit, her gaze far away and not on the task. A dwindling square of stockinette remained on one needle. I’d made the swatch mere hours ago. Was it hours? How long had I been here? When had they captured me?

Nana wore different clothing. The sun shone from the window behind her, sparkling in her silver hair. It appeared freshly combed.

“This is real-time, Mr. Krause,” the Consigliere said, answering my unasked question. “We’ve temporarily planted a hidden camera in her room so that you might understand how serious we are.”

Fury like I’d never felt in my life raged inside me. I threw myself at the man, growling like a vicious, starved animal ready to tear apart their prey, but the ties around my wrists caught, cutting into my flesh. The chair didn’t budge. The man stood safely out of reach.

“You motherfucker.” I launched at him again, straining, tugging, and snarling. “You stay the fuck away from her, or I will fucking kill you with my bare fucking hands.”

“Calm down, Mr. Krause. You promised me a civil conversation. If you cannot deliver on your promise, I will walk out that door.”

I thrashed, trying again to reach him. I kicked, snapped my teeth, and spat profanities. “Fuck you. I will tear your fucking head from your fucking body, asshole. I will gut you like a fish. I will rip your intestines out of your belly and shove them down your goddamn throat. Let me go. ”

A flash of blinding light shattered my vision into a million pieces. It coincided with the impact of the Bishop’s knee hitting my mouth. My already broken nose sang. I howled loud enough that my poor dog must have heard.

Echo’s frantic barking sounded louder. She whined and howled along with me, tugging at my heartstrings.

Ears ringing, I spat a wad of blood and saliva onto the floor at my feet as the world slowly realigned.