Page 25 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Tallus

I wasn’t permitted to unlock the door or exit into the hallway first. Diem’s anxiety peaked the moment we left the apartment. In the parking garage, he scanned every nook and cranny. On the drive to headquarters, he checked the rearview mirror no fewer than seventy-five times.

Echo must have sensed his anxiety, because she whimpered, poking her face between the front seats to repeatedly lick his ear. Diem patted her and assured her he was fine.

The card remained tied to his wrist.

I tapped it, trying to shift his attention to other things.

“After I finish work today, we should start on this. Finding that guy shouldn’t be too hard.

We can check the hospitals. Find out where he was sent.

See what we can learn about what happened to him.

I can call the officer who took our statement and inquire about the man’s health.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can get a name. From there, we can do a search for his address. ”

Diem grunted noncommittally.

“What does that mean?”

“We’ll see.”

“Are you changing your mind?”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re done with work.”

I stared at the side of his face but couldn’t read the expression. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“Later, Tallus.”

I bit my tongue to refrain from arguing. The rest of the drive passed in silence.

When we arrived at the headquarters building, Diem didn’t pull up out front to drop me off. He parked and physically escorted me to the records department like I was an ornery teen being dragged by the arm to the principal’s office.

His scowl was back, and everyone we met on the way earned the Diem Death Glare.

Inside, I flicked on the lights as he made rounds, checking under the counter, behind the desk, and inside the dusty crypts as though someone might be lurking within. Again, I refrained from commenting. It was a secure building full of armed men and women, but he knew that already.

Seemingly satisfied, Diem hesitated by the door as though knowing he should go but was unable to convince himself.

“D, I’m fine.”

“Don’t leave the building.”

I stopped short of rolling my eyes. Don’t provoke a fight. Don’t provoke a fight. “I won’t.”

“Not even for coffee.”

I guffawed. “How am I supposed to last all day without a second coffee? I didn’t plan for this. I have needs. ”

“I’m serious, Tallus. Do. Not. Leave. The building.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah. Fine. I hear you, but I feel the need to reiterate that I am not a helpless heroine, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Tallus.”

“I’ll stay put. I promise.”

The look in his eyes suggested he had more to say, but my tongue-tied boyfriend simply nodded. “Five thirty?”

“That’s what time I lock the door every night.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“It’s ingrained into my personality. I really can’t help it. Sarcasm is about all I have right now.”

He glared.

I forced a smile. “Yes, Diem. Five thirty. That is when I’m done working. I’ll wait out—”

“In here.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a brisk nod and no affection to be found, he left. The door slammed, but before I could let out a resigned breath—or a pterodactyl scream of frustration—he powered through it again and barreled toward me.

I startled at the abruptness of his advance and didn’t have time to find words before he grabbed my face between his oversized palms and kissed me with bruising force.

Diem backed me against the counter, lifting me with ease until I sat on top, and drew my legs around his waist. The possessive aggression turned me stupid, stealing oxygen, reasonable thought, and every remaining ounce of snark that had surfaced with his miserable attitude and demands .

When he finally let go, the look in his eyes made me fumble. Torment, fear, and something like desperation peered back.

He clung to my face like he couldn’t let go. With a raspy, “I’ll see you tonight,” he spun on his combat boots and vanished.

The door banged shut with a resounding thunk .

It didn’t open again.

I stared at it for a solid five minutes, processing all that had happened over the past forty-eight hours. I couldn’t decide if I was angry, frustrated, or simply confused. When I regained control over my limbs, I jumped from the counter and retrieved my phone, hitting Connect on Memphis’s number.

He hadn’t responded to my earlier text, and I had a sinking suspicion it was his day off and he was still asleep, but I didn’t care. This crisis required immediate attention.

The line clicked, followed by a groggy, “Whoever this is, if you aren’t willing to come over and suck my cock, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Eww. It’s me, and that’s not happening ever again.”

“Tallus?”

“Don’t you check to see who’s calling before answering the phone?”

“That would require opening my eyes, and that is a task I couldn’t manage if I wanted to.” The last part of the sentence ended with a yawn.

“What if I was your mother?”

“Then she would have learned her lesson about calling me at the ass crack of fucking dawn. Bitch, what the fuck time is it? Why do you hate me? ”

I checked the wall clock over the door. “It’s a quarter after nine. Good grief, stop being lazy and get up. I’m having a level ten emergency, and I need you.”

“Babe, I don’t work today, and I didn’t get home until after two. I’m hungover, and my ass hurts. Remember that acoustic guitarist from the café?”

“I told you he wasn’t straight.”

Memphis hummed with pleasure. “The man is a cock sucking god, among other things. I’m fucking wrecked after one night with him. Girl, I swear to you, I don’t think I can walk.”

“As much as I’d love all the deets—”

“Liar.”

“I’m having a mini-crisis. Scratch that. A major crisis, and I need you.”

Memphis groaned. The shuffling on the other end of the line suggested he was burrowing deeper into the blankets. “Talk. I’ll try to stay awake, but I’m literally just an ear right now. The advice center is closed until further notice.”

I rounded the counter and powered up the computer as I explained about Diem’s and my fight, his disappearance and reappearance the following day, battered and bruised and acting suss as shit.

“It’s sketch, isn’t it?” I typed my password when the login screen appeared.

Memphis hummed noncommittally.

“Are you listening? He’s in full combat mode today. Outfit and fucking concealed knife notwithstanding, he’s shadowing me like I’m someone’s target and won’t explain anything.”

“Did he report it? ”

I scoffed. “Are you serious? This is Diem we’re talking about. He didn’t even go to the hospital, and the lump on the back of his head is the size of a watermelon. What do I do?”

“Honestly, if a bunch of guys managed to subdue your tank of a boyfriend and used him as a punching bag, maybe he has every right to be concerned for your tiny twinkish ass, and you should listen.”

“I’m not a twink. The point is, if he would explain it to me, I’d be more apt to stop arguing, but he won’t tell me shit.”

“It will blow over, Tallus. The wounds are fresh, and your man is his own flavor of psycho.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“He’s probably acting paranoid because he’s still shaken from the incident. Someone got the jump on him. Whoever it was—”

“They. He said men , not man .”

“Whoever they were probably made idle drunken threats. He’s still buzzing.

Let him play the overprotective boyfriend for a few days as the adrenaline wears off.

He’ll get over it and realize there is nothing to fear, and your life will return to normal…

or whatever normal looks like when you date a guy like Diem. ”

I sulked as I clicked on the email icon to see if there were requests for files I would need to dig out of the crypts and deliver.

I wanted to tell Memphis about the card, but Diem would have my head.

Besides, if I wasn’t allowed to find a buyer, what was the point?

I didn’t feel like listening to my best friend give me shit for not standing my ground and snatching an opportunity to make a shit ton of cash.

“Can I go back to bed?”

“No. I need you. I’m emotional, and Diem was not a cuddle bear this morning.”

Memphis groaned. “I don’t know how to help you, and I’m tired.”

“Tell me about your guitar player. ”

“Mm… That I can do.” I heard the smile on my best friend’s face. “His name is Benjamin. He’s twenty-four and a marathon runner. You know what that means, right?”

“Stamina for days.” I chuckled, and Memphis continued, giving me all the details I didn’t want to hear about his most recent hookup.