Page 18 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

“I need you to calm yourself, Mr. Krause.” An edge of impatience crept into the Consigliere’s tone.

“I’m not opposed to having the Bishop hit you again.

The longer we take getting to the point, the less friendly I become, and the more battered you will be.

I can tell by the scars on your face that you’re a fighter, but might I suggest sitting this one out? You won’t win.”

My lip stung and pulsed with a fresh injury. I prodded it with my tongue, discovering a wide gash. A steady stream of blood ran down my chin.

Finding strength, I lifted my head and blinked the Consigliere back into focus, wanting nothing more than to rearrange his face.

Before our conversation could resume, the Bishop moved in with his fucking washcloth. I bared my teeth and snarled, “Back the fuck off, asshole,” making him hesitate.

“Leave him alone.” The Consigliere kicked my foot to redirect my attention. “Are you listening, Mr. Krause? I’m fast losing patience.”

The Consigliere no longer had the tablet. I didn’t see where he’d put it, but a desperate need to see Nana again rose within me. Instead, he withdrew something from the inside pocket of his jacket. From my vantage, they looked like postcards or —

He flipped one around, displaying the front. Then he flashed another, and another, and another, discarding them on the ground at my feet as he went through over a dozen.

Not postcards but photographs. The images were a reflection of the ones I took when investigating someone’s private life without them knowing. Clandestine shots, taken from a distant car window or the other end of the street, zoomed in on the party, who were none the wiser.

Tallus was the central focus of each.

As the Consigliere displayed them one by one, he narrated a timeline that must have spanned several hours.

“Taken last night at your apartment. See him in the window? Yes, I know your address and unit number. This one was taken in the parking garage at your building. Yes, I know what you both drive. Here is one of him making a phone call. One of dozens last night, presumably to your phone. He must be worried about you, Mr. Krause. Here he is driving around the city. He stops for gas once and pays with a bank card from an account in overdraft. Yes, I know that too. He drove for many hours. Here he stopped by your office, ran inside, but didn’t linger.

Here he went to your gym. Same thing. Here he visited the dog park you frequently visit when out with your mutt. ”

And another, and another, and another. By the time the Consigliere ran out of photographs, they decorated the floor in a scattered pile. I stared at them, hollowed out, unable to take a full breath, skin hot and cold at the same time.

My world tilted, and a fear I’d never known tried to drown me. “Tallus,” I whispered, choking on his name.

The Consigliere put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his fancy loafers. “I have eyes on him even now, Mr. Krause. At any point and with a single phone call, my man will take him out, and you will never see him again.”

Trembling, I shifted my attention to the Consigliere. “What do you want?” The words came from around a lump in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it down. It stuck there uncomfortably, stirring nausea.

“Ace wants Clarence dead. Simple as that. You interfered with the plan. Now Clarence is in the wind. He is a risk, and Ace is angry. You either find him for us so the Bishop can finish the job he started, or you pay with the blood of your loved ones.”

A strangled swell of emotions squeezed my heart. I battled to keep my voice calm as I asked, “You want me to kill someone?”

I’d kill for Nana. For Tallus. But the act would destroy me.

“No. You didn’t listen, Mr. Krause. Ace wouldn’t ask that of you. We want you to find Clarence. You’re an investigator. Your record is decent. You have the means and hopefully enough motivation now for you to carry through with our request.”

“I have faith you will succeed,” said the Bishop, speaking for the first time in a while.

The Consigliere sauntered to the side table, where he poured himself a fresh drink. Before returning, he plucked the tablet from a shelf nearby where he must have placed it earlier.

He sipped. He stared. He said nothing.

Assuming he was waiting for me to accept or acknowledge the task, I fumbled to comprehend the full extent of what he asked. “Find Clarence. That’s what you want?”

“Yes. Despite his irritation at the situation, Ace is feeling generous. He’s not an unreasonable man.

He’s given you seven days, Mr. Krause. No more.

If you try to go to the police or play any sly games to worm your way out of this, we will assume you aren’t serious, and we will retaliate accordingly. Understand? ”

To drive his point home, he turned the tablet, presenting the live feed from the nursing home.

My head raced with information as I watched Nana.

A nurse made her bed before moving in beside her and gently removing the mangled knitting, setting it aside.

He helped her from the rocking chair and steadied her on his arm.

Together, they left the frame. She was gone.

To breakfast or lunch or who knew where.

Gone. I wasn’t ready for her to be gone.

Not from the frame or my life. Not like this. Not to these people.

I met the Consigliere’s hard gaze, a slick of oil coating my belly.

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Krause?”

“Yes,” I rasped, barely recognizing my own voice. “I’ll find him.”

“Good. Let’s go over the finer points, shall we?”

“Finer points?”

He handed the tablet to the Bishop and paced with his drink. “We must implement some rules to ensure you don’t try to fuck us over.”

“No police. I get it. I’m not fond of them anyhow.”

“More than that.” He plucked the leather pouch from his front pocket and displayed it.

“You will keep this card on you twenty-four hours a day. When you work, when you sleep, when you use the toilet. If I discover you exceed a ten-foot radius of this card at any point, she dies.” He motioned to the Bishop and the tablet. The she was not in question.

I frowned. “The card’s a tracking device?”

The Consigliere smiled. “Smart man. The card is a symbol, but yes, it will track you, Mr. Krause. Don’t be fooled. We will constantly check in to ensure you aren’t playing games. I have eyes everywhere, so don’t think about stepping out of line. I will know.”

“What else? ”

“You will not go to the nursing home. You will not call there, and you will not send anyone in your stead. If I catch any hint that you’re trying to relocate the old woman or warn the authorities that her safety is in jeopardy, she dies.

Don’t think you can get to her before me.

I have inside people who will move faster than you can blink. ”

Red clouded my vision, and it took all my self-control not to react. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It was a dream. A nightmare. I was having a stress-induced nightmare because I’d argued with Tallus.

But the copper taste of blood in my mouth and the pounding headache behind my eyes defied logic.

Dreams were a cesspool of rotting emotions, but they never physically ailed me.

The lashes from my father’s belt never stung.

His punches never throbbed. The gashes he inflicted might bleed, but they never ached or burned or pulsed with their own heartbeat.

This was real.

“I will leave you with a phone number,” the Consigliere went on.

“Tracing it will get you nowhere, so I suggest not wasting your time on trivial matters. You will use it to communicate with me when you find Clarence. We will discuss the exchange at that time. Like the card, you will keep your phone on you at all times. Should I need to contact you for any reason, you will answer without delay. If you do not.” He glanced at the tablet, his meaning clear.

“Lastly,” he continued, “You will not breathe a word of this to your partner.” He kicked at the mess of photographs strewn across the floor.

I frowned. “But Tallus can help me.”

“No. Mr. Domingo will remain oblivious of our transaction and your duty. Do you understand? You will carry on as normal, giving no hint that anything is amiss. ”

I chuffed and shook my head. “Impossible. You clearly don’t know my boyfriend. He has a sixth sense for shit like this. He knows my moods before I do. He reads me like a fucking book even when I don’t want him to. He’s going to know something’s up.”

“Then you have an extra responsibility to ensure he doesn’t find out.”

“I’m not the fucking actor in our relationship.”

“I suggest you learn fast. No one is to know about our deal, Mr. Krause. Do I make myself clear? Is the life of your grandmother and boyfriend not enough incentive?” His volume rose with his temper.

“I think we’ve proven how easy it is to infiltrate your life.

We have eyes on everyone you love. If this man—” Again, he kicked the pile of photographs.

“—proves to be an issue, we will be forced to eliminate him from the equation. This is a delicate situation. Be sure he remains ignorant. Can you do that, Mr. Krause, or should I remove the obstacle before we begin?” He unearthed a cell. “One call is all it will take.”

“No. I can do it,” I stammered, my gaze catching on a picture of Tallus with his phone pressed to his ear.

A worried expression creased his brow, pale cheeks gleaming under the low parking garage lighting.

The photographer had zoomed in close enough that it caught the glassy sheen of his hazel eyes.

Tears. Tallus was distraught at my absence.

How long had I been gone? What must he be thinking?

Our argument came back to me. Every nonsensical detail. How irrelevant it all seemed. How stupid. He’d gone out looking for me when I hadn’t come home. Danger had followed in the shadows. The thought of anyone getting that close to him made me sick.

And Nana. Oh Jesus . What had I gotten myself into?

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Krause?”

Bile rose up my throat. I trembled with shot nerves and undiluted fear. Lifting my gaze from the scattered photographs, I met the Consigliere’s cold stare. I didn’t have a choice. I either did what he said, or the only two people I loved would die.

“Deal.”

I didn’t see the hit coming, but I felt the impact at the same moment my world went dark.