Page 23 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Tallus spun, and the soft padding of footsteps marked his retreat. A moment later, sounds of rummaging through cupboards and the crinkle of a box of cereal being opened came from the kitchen.

Echo huffed and readjusted her weight, turning her back and burying her nose under a paw. She was either vocalizing her opinion at having her sleep disturbed or, perhaps, empathizing with Tallus’s irritation.

“What am I supposed to tell him?” I hissed at the dog.

Of course, she offered no help with my dilemma.

Fighting my battered body and pounding head, I rolled from the bed and followed the sound of slurping to the kitchen.

Tallus scrolled on his phone while savoring a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, the sugariest cereal in existence.

I’d recently learned it was one of his favorites.

A good boyfriend noted those things because buying them on grocery day earned points.

When you were me and always at risk of putting your foot in your mouth or causing an argument, you needed to accumulate all the points possible to stay afloat.

I squinted at the clock on the microwave. Two sixteen. Christ, it was the middle of the night.

“Can I join you, or are you still mad at me?”

Tallus glanced from his phone with an expression I couldn’t read.

Cold eyes behind dark-framed glasses, their color obscure in the dark.

“I’m not mad, Diem. I’m worried. You look like you went ten rounds in the ring and lost. Your nose is broken, you have a goose egg the size of a cantaloupe on the back of your head, and you’re littered with cuts and bruises you won’t explain. ”

I prodded the lump in question at the base of my skull. “It’s not that big. I’ve had worse.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve always had worse. That’s not the point.” Returning to his cereal, he scrolled and ate and scrolled some more.

Still unsure if I was welcome, I grabbed a bowl and spoon and sat at the table, helping myself to cereal. As I added milk, Tallus’s steady scooping and scrolling stopped. He stared at my wrist where the leather pouch dangled not so inconspicuously.

I’d forgotten all about it, which was exactly why I’d tied it there in the first place, so I wouldn’t absently leave it behind.

I didn’t know how astute those men were to my location or how closely they monitored the card, but until I could analyze the feasibility of their surveillance with a clearer head, I would keep it attached to my body.

They implied disastrous consequences otherwise, and I wasn’t taking chances.

“Why do you have that tied to your arm?”

“Safety,” I said noncommittally.

Tallus scoffed and dropped his spoon with a clatter. “You don’t trust me.”

“No, it’s—” Not pivoting fast enough, still tangled in finding an excuse for the card, I didn’t immediately notice Tallus’s concern shifting elsewhere.

“What the fuck?” He reached across the table and yanked my unadorned wrist toward him. Only then did I notice the cause of his expletive. Angry purple bruises shone on both my wrists. I had been secured so tightly that the indent from the rope fibers was practically tattooed into my skin .

Gaping, Tallus turned my hand one way then the other, tracing a finger over the mark. He glanced at the other wrist, where the drawstring barely covered the matching bruise.

“It’s not—”

“You were tied up.”

I clamped my teeth together and didn’t respond. It wasn’t a question.

Tallus relinquished my hand, shoved his cereal aside, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. I couldn’t tell if he was hurt or angry or frustrated. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his silence made me want to crawl out of my skin.

I should say something, but what? Half the time, when I found words, they were the wrong words, and it always made things worse. It caused arguments, and the last thing I wanted to do was fight again.

When I didn’t fill in the blank, Tallus’s tension drained. He pouted and glanced at the card. Hurt? Frustrated? He was definitely one of those things, if not both.

I needed to speak before he created his own narrative and convinced himself I didn’t trust him. Why else would I have tied the card to my wrist? The card he’d so adamantly wanted to sell. The card that had caused our initial disagreement and sent me fleeing the other night.

I scrambled but drew a blank. Words. Find fucking words. Don’t ruin this.

“We shouldn’t throw it away,” he said as I fumbled uselessly for something to say. He scornfully met my gaze as he continued. “It’s worth too much to toss in the garbage. We’ll find the man from the alley and give it back. Let him deal with it. If it’s stolen, it’s his problem, not ours, right?”

I opened my mouth but closed it again as a fresh surge of panic buzzed over my skin. It was exactly what I had been told to do. Sort of. My instructions weren’t to give it back to Clarence but to report his location to the Consigliere, who had every intent on killing him.

Not my problem , I reminded myself when my conscience whispered in my ear.

Tallus slapped the table, making me jump. “Christ, Diem. Can you not be mute right now. Please. Use words. Say something. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I’m trying to be agreeable.”

I faltered, stammered, and said nothing of substance.

“Fuck my life. Did you change your mind? Am I calling Costa?”

“Um…”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t do this right now. You’re giving me a headache. Speak, for fuck’s sake. Contrary to what you might think, I can’t read your mind.”

He was mad. I’d done it again. Fuck.

Tallus wasn’t supposed to know the truth, but what if finding Clarence was his idea? Would acknowledging his plan go against my instructions? Would I be accused of telling him too much if I agreed? Would it put his and Nana’s lives in danger?

My persistent inability to communicate my thoughts earned a huff of indignation. Tallus was ten seconds from telling me to go fuck myself. I’d upset him enough over this goddamn card. Over shady excuses for my injuries. How many more battles until he gave up and walked away for good?

I couldn’t lose him. Not like this. It would destroy me.

“Never mind.” Tallus collected his dishes, tucked the cereal box under an arm, and snagged the container of milk in his free hand before storming to the kitchen. The dishes landed in the sink with a clatter. He slammed the cupboard and fridge doors as he put the other items away.

Then, he marched off in a huff .

I stared at the soggy, sugary cereal congealing in my bowl before shifting my gaze to the pouch and card tied to my wrist. It supposedly tracked me, but was it also embedded with a listening device? I had no idea.

Glancing toward the bedroom to ensure Tallus was out of earshot, I leaned closer to the device and hissed, “Listen, assholes. If you can hear me, then you must have heard the conversation. I’m following your fucking rules to the letter.

Got it? I will say nothing of your plan to him, but if it’s not okay to accept his help in locating Clarence, you’d better tell me right fucking now.

He’s under the assumption we’re doing nothing more than giving the card back, which was an idea we had before you fuckers kidnapped me. It’s innocent. Can we agree on that?”

I paused, unsure how they might possibly respond to let me know the right course of action—assuming they could hear me at all.

“If you don’t want me to allow this, then call my cell, let it ring twice, and hang up. Otherwise, I’ll assume this falls within your parameters of allowable.”

I waited, ear cocked, listening for a ring. I’d left my phone in the bedroom, volume high, so I wouldn’t miss potential instructions.

A minute passed. Two. Five. Ten.

Nothing.

“Fine. If you can hear me, I take that as permission to proceed.” I shoved from the table and went in search of Tallus.

He lay in bed on his side, stroking a sleeping Echo.

The tension across his shoulders radiated an unapproachable vibe.

I lingered by the door. Confrontation was not my strong suit with Tallus.

He was a powerhouse, and I could never keep up with his verbal comebacks.

One of these days, I would stammer for too long and end up on the street.

Alone. I couldn’t go back to who I was before.

That man no longer existed. Tallus had changed me on a molecular level.

Without his love, I would be cleaved in two, emptier than I’d ever been in my entire life.

“Help me find him,” I said, my voice low.

“You wanted to get out from behind the desk, right? Consider it a final exam. We locate… the man”—I almost said Clarence—“return his property, and split the more investigative jobs from here on out. Hell, you can take your pick. Have all the best ones if you want them. I don’t care.

I never said you weren’t capable, Tallus.

You’re a good PI. I’ve never regretted bringing you into the business.

I just…” worry about you , I didn’t say, leaving the sentence unfinished instead.

When several minutes passed and I thought he would do nothing more than pet the dog and ignore me, he shifted. Even in the shadowy depths of the room, his moodiness showed. Tallus was the definition of sass and snark, but he was rarely sullen. I’d hurt him, and I never wanted to hurt him.

Tallus wore simple boxer briefs—always black—and his award-winning come-fuck-me glasses.

Nothing more. He was sex personified, and I could never get enough of looking at him.

Touching him, taking him to bed, and calling him mine were things I still hadn’t gotten used to.

In no universe did our relationship make sense. Yet here we were.

The thought of losing him was a constant ache I couldn’t shed. It had dulled slightly in the past couple of months, but when we argued—which was far too often—it throbbed anew, warning me how fragile happiness could be.

“Who hurt you?” he asked after a time.

“Tallus—”

“No. That’s not fair, Diem. If it was me, you’d lose your shit. I’m allowed to worry about you. It goes both ways. Tell me.”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. These… men caught me off guard and messed me up.” It wasn’t a lie, but Tallus also knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

“Were you drunk? I could smell it on you, so don’t fucking lie.”

I shrugged, letting him take from that gesture what he would. In fact, at the time of my attack, I was stone-cold sober. The alcohol had come after, thanks to the Consigliere.

“I figured.”

Although wishing I could dispute his conclusion and tell him he was wrong, I didn’t.

Tallus knew I struggled with alcohol addiction.

As much as it pained me, I would ride the excuse for all it was worth if it meant he stopped questioning my whereabouts from the previous night.

Drunken bar fights made sense to him. It was the man I used to be a long time ago, so why not now?

I wasn’t a fighter anymore, and I thought Tallus knew that, but maybe I was wrong.

I was about to revisit the issue of returning the card to Clarence when my phone rang. My heart jolted, landing in my throat as Tallus whirled around in confusion. “What the hell? It’s, like, three o’clock in the morning. Who’s calling you?”

As he reached for the device, I lunged, grabbing it first. Unsurprisingly, the name flashing on the screen read Asshole . I connected with a quiet “What?” as I turned my back.

“Hello, Mr. Krause. I’m glad you got home all right.

I hope I didn’t wake you. It’s terribly late.

A good test, though, huh? If you’d slept through my call, we might have had an issue.

Anyhow, Ace has informed me there is an alteration to your timeline.

It appears he has unexpected business out of town next week, so our seven-day timeframe no longer works.

You understand. Five days should be sufficient.

Let’s call it Sunday at midnight. That is all, Mr. Krause.

Forgive me for interrupting your night. Ta. ”

The phone clicked, and the Consigliere was gone.

Five days. Sunday. We were in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Was it enough time? Fuck.

“Who was that?” Tallus asked with a frown as I dropped my phone back on the side table.

“Wrong number.”

I didn’t know if he bought it or not, but he let it go and patted the spot beside him. “Come on, Guns. It’s late.”

A fraction of my stress lifted, hearing the nickname he’d given me on the day we met. Since my return home, it had been absent. The affectionate moniker gave me hope that I hadn’t ruined everything.

Not yet.

“Are you sure you want me…” I motioned to the bed, unsure of what I was trying to say.

“Beside me? Always, D. Even when you drive me up the wall.”

I crawled in beside him, and Tallus shuffled over until his long, lean body pressed against mine. He rested his head in the crook of my shoulder and placed his hand over my heart. The organ thudded under his touch, a pounding pace I couldn’t calm.

Tallus felt it—he must have—and deduced its cause. “We’re okay, Guns.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah.”

Why didn’t I believe him?