Page 27 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)
So, he convinced us to take it and demanded that we throw it away.
Except we hadn’t, and Ace and his cronies had come after us instead.
Clarence had gotten away.
Ace was pissed.
“And that’s where I come in. Fuck my life.”
Echo whined but didn’t lift her head or open her eyes.
Clarence had obviously recovered from his injuries—the Consigliere confirmed as much—and he’d gone underground. If he was smart, he would skip the country.
Part of me wondered what the man had done to piss off Ace, but another part of me understood that it didn’t matter. It was none of my business. Finding Clarence was the key to getting out of this mess. What happened to him after I delivered him on a silver platter wasn’t my fucking problem.
I snagged my cell and drew up contact information for a man who might be able to help.
Jaxon Buren worked in the medical field as a mortuary assistant and had hospital privileges.
He also had a profound drug problem and usually did whatever I wanted for quick cash, even at the risk of his career.
How he’d managed to not get canned was beyond my understanding.
The phone rang once before an automated voice announced the line had been disconnected.
“For fuck’s sake.”
I slammed a fist against the desk, disturbing Echo again, who came to check on me. She rested a paw on my bouncing knee as though knowing it was a sign of agitation and wanting to make it stop.
I absently petted her for a few minutes before drawing up a map of Toronto on the laptop.
Over half a dozen hospitals in the city provided emergency care.
I had to assume the ambulance had taken Clarence to the one nearest where he was found, which turned out to be the Toronto Western Hospital.
Although the General and St. Joseph’s weren’t out of the question, either, since they were near enough to the vicinity to be possibilities.
I muttered another curse and unthinkingly scrubbed a hand over my face, hissing when sharp pain radiated through my nose and cheekbones, making my eyes water.
“Fuck.” I growled and hammered the desk three more times to mitigate the sting.
Echo whimpered and leaned against my leg.
“I know. Fuck. I’m sorry. I hurt myself.”
Cautiously, I prodded my tender nose to ensure it wasn’t bleeding. My fingers came back clean .
When the fresh injustice turned from a steady gong to a mild pulse, I picked up the phone again, figuring I would call the Western hospital in the capacity of a concerned family member and inquire if Clarence was or had ever been a patient.
Immediately, I put the device down, remembering that I didn’t have the fucker’s last name.
“—certain… predilections.”
Growling, I shook the intrusive thought away as my past crept up on me again, trying to slither out of the vault. Envisioning Tallus under the assault of a faceless stranger named Ace was enough to jack up my blood pressure.
Dr. Peterson constantly reminded me not to fret over things that hadn’t happened, but those battles were hard-won.
The pressure behind my eyes was not letting up, and I gently massaged my temple as I considered angles that didn’t include driving back to police headquarters and storming inside.
In the end, I looked up the number for the mortuary where Jaxon had last worked and placed a call.
At least I could discover if he was still employed.
Maybe his dead phone indicated he’d finally been canned.
Hopefully not. Hopefully, we could meet, and he could get me a last fucking name or address for dear old Clarence before I put my fist through a wall and ended up in another goddamned cast.
Or arrested.
Or single.
After grumbling a request to the snarky woman who answered, I was put on hold. Jaxon came on the line a few minutes later, sounding as gruff as ever. “Buren. What d’ya need?”
“It’s Krause. What the fuck’s wrong with your phone? I tried calling you, and the number is disconnected.”
Silence, then quieter, “I can’t talk right now. ”
“Fine. Six tonight. The usual spot. I need information.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I’m not doing that anymore. I gotta go.”
“Fifty bucks,” I said before he could disconnect.
Shuffling sounded on the other end of the line. When Buren spoke, his voice was so hushed I could barely hear him. “I said I’m not doing that anymore. What part didn’t you understand? Find. Someone. Else.”
“There is no one else. It’s nothing complicated.”
Buren didn’t speak, but he didn’t hang up either.
“I need the name of a guy who was treated in the emergency room about a week ago. I’m not sure which hospital, but my bet is on Western. That’s it. That’s all. A last name and an address if you can swing it.”
“A hundred bucks.”
“For a fucking name? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“I’m out of business is what I am. I don’t do this anymore,” Buren snapped, tone low. “A hundred or you find someone else.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Fine. Where can I send you the details?”
“Nowhere. I’ll get them from you in person at six.”
I wanted to argue that time was of the essence, and I needed answers at six, but I bit my tongue. “I’ll be there.”
“Money in advance.”
“Half. That’s how we’ve always done it.”
“All, or I’m retired.” He hung up before I could object.
Cursing, I slid my phone across the desk forcefully enough that it cascaded off the edge and clattered to the ground. “I fucking hate people.”
Echo laid her head on my lap, staring with sad puppy eyes.
“Not you, stupid. I like you. You’re not people.” I scratched her ear, but it didn’t bring my blood pressure down. I wanted a smoke so fucking bad my insides jittered with anticipation. I should never have bummed one the previous day. I knew I would regret it.
My head throbbed, tanking my mood further. If my limbs weren’t stiff and sore, I would have taken my frustrations out on a punching bag for an hour, but the gym wasn’t an option until I could stand up and sit down without groaning.
After examining my face in the mirror that morning, I realized my broken nose didn’t need to be reset. Had the Bishop fixed it? Who fucking knew? Either way, I was glad I didn’t have to do it on my own or go to a hospital where some nosy doctor or nurse might ask a hundred questions.
Although some top-notch painkillers would have been nice.
Rooting through a desk drawer, I came up with a generic bottle of aspirin and chewed three tablets dry, barely registering the acrid taste. Chasing them down with a couple of shots of the Consigliere’s bourbon would have been amazing. A nice blanket of numbness called to me on a cellular level.
The liquor store was three blocks away, taunting me. Then, I envisioned the disappointed look on Tallus’s face if he found out. He rarely verbalized his opinion outright, but he hated it when I drank to block out the world.
I petted Echo instead, fighting the cravings eating me alive. My skin felt too tight. My nerves twitched.
“—certain… predilections.”
Pinching my eyes closed didn’t help. The vault had opened. From the darkness of my mind, he peered back. Like I didn’t have enough problems without my past creeping in to haunt me. It had been a long time since his face had outranked my father’s.
Every muscle in my body coiled tighter and tighter. I needed to relax. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t focus .
The calming bliss of a cigarette or the detached pleasure brought on by a few shots of whiskey threatened my resolve.
For half a minute, I contemplated how difficult it might be to get hold of a few oxy.
For the pain , I told myself, but it was a lie and a goddamn slippery slope.
I knew the bliss of an oxy haze all too well.
Chances were, Buren could hook me up without flinching.
All I had to do was call him back and ask.
What was one more problem on top of the mountain I’d incurred?
Resisting the urge, I shuffled upright, shaking off the past and the lure toward old habits as I focused on the task at hand. Clarence. I needed to locate Clarence.
Except, locating Clarence would have to wait until after I chatted with Buren. Besides, Tallus might get pissed if I did too much without him, especially since I’d given him the impression he could help.
Shuffling that mission aside, I focused on a more personal issue: discovering who had kidnapped me, where they were hiding, and making a plan to fucking kill them for daring to threaten the only two people I loved and sending my fragilely happy life into a tailspin.
With the scant information I retained from my captivity, I drew up a street view of Old Toronto and a map of the subway lines. Slowly and meticulously, I virtually walked every path, zooming in on buildings that fit a certain criterion while trying to find a door that triggered a memory.
It would have been easier to get in the Jeep and drive the bloody roads, but since my captors were tracking my every move, I didn’t want them to question my motives. If they thought I was hunting them down, they might not be happy.