Page 30 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Diem

T he host had to consult his manager before allowing us in with Echo. I didn’t grumble or have anything negative to say as much as I wanted to. I would be agreeable. Respectful. I would play the part of a doting boyfriend and erase whatever concerns Tallus had over my absence and injuries.

I was not an actor, but I would try no matter how deceptive it felt.

The kid—he was not a day over nineteen—seated us at a table in a far corner away from other customers. It suited me fine. I positioned myself so I could watch the door and our surroundings.

Tallus didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Echo curled up under the table and closed her eyes.

A waitress brought water and menus, eyeing my battered face more than once before leaving us alone. Tallus studied the selections while I studied him. Why did the distance of a single table feel like a canyon? I could reach out and touch him, and yet he was too far away .

“You’re staring, Guns.” He peered over the top of his come-fuck-me frames and hit me with the sultry smirk that turned my insides to liquid. “Do you know what you’re ordering?”

“No.” I couldn’t focus on the options. A queasy twist of anxiety still soured my gut. Hunger pains or not, I wasn’t sure I could eat.

Tallus closed the menu and pushed it aside. “I’m getting the kabab platter. It says we can upsize and make it shareable. Want to do that?”

I grunted and stacked my menu on top of his. It saved making decisions.

“Don’t grunt. Words, Guns.”

“Sounds good.”

“You seem anxious.”

“I’m fine.”

Tallus had an uncanny way of dissecting me and drawing far too accurate conclusions based on little evidence.

It took effort not to squirm. His evaluation threatened to turn me transparent, and there was too much I didn’t want him to know.

Keeping a mask in place was proving impossible. Not when he was so astute.

“So.” Finished with his analysis, he sipped his water. “Aside from torturous , how was your day? Anything I should know before tomorrow? Did you find those girls?”

“Girls?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“The teens you were supposed to be looking for.”

“Oh. No. I worked on other stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“The… Patrolli case.” I hadn’t touched the Patrolli case. My entire day had been spent trying to find the people who kidnapped me and threatened my loved ones.

“Did you respond to Hill? ”

Hill? “Um… no.”

“Am I still doing that work for him?”

Hill. The lawyer. Right. Fuck me. “If you don’t want to, I can—”

“I’ll do it. Best we build a solid rapport. He pays well.”

“It’s a lot of computer work. You said—”

“It’s fine, D. I was being a brat.”

“You weren’t. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shrugged and scanned the restaurant.

My big fat mouth was to blame. I didn’t want to end up in a fight again. I had enough going on without rehashing yesterday’s drama.

Sweat peppered my forehead, and I darted my attention to the door as a couple walked in.

The waitress arrived and took our order. The minute she was gone, Tallus steered the conversation in another direction, taking us from shit pile one to shit pile two. “How’s Nana?”

Fuck my life. Of all the things he could ask.

My skin itched like I’d developed a sudden case of hives, and I squirmed.

The blood drained from my face, leaving it cold and tingly, and it took a beat too long to find my voice and an answer.

“Um… She’s… the same.” I cleared my throat.

“You know. Rambling nonsense like usual. Didn’t know me from Adam.

Talked about random people who probably don’t exist or died in the sixties.

” I stared at the cutlery, at a scuff in the table, at anything but Tallus’s face.

Two women entered the restaurant. I watched the host seat them.

I didn’t want to talk or think about Nana. Or the motherfucking card around my wrist. Or my disappearance . Or the reason I’d been an overbearing asshole since waking up concussed in an alley.

Fuck me. A good actor would know how to maneuver this situation with skill, but I was a shitty actor like I’d told Mr. Pinstripe. I would kill for a drink or a smoke, but neither was possible, not with Tallus around and his concern already off the charts .

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I chugged water, draining the glass in two gulps, suddenly parched. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

“You’ve gone pale.”

“I’m… not feeling so hot.” It was the first truthful thing I’d said. My brain screamed, Find Clarence! Find Clarence. Find fucking Clarence!

“Have you taken anything?”

“Aspirin. This morning.”

“Nothing since?”

I shook my head and wiped my damp palms over my jeans. Echo bumped my knuckles with her wet nose, and I scratched her ear. “Lie down, girl,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”

Tallus peered under the table at the dog, questions on his face. If Echo was reacting, it meant one thing. My blood pressure was on the rise, and I most definitely was not okay.

“The lump on the back of your head.” Tallus indicated the spot on himself. “I still say you could have a concussion. Are you dizzy or nauseous?”

Yes, to both, but I lied so he wouldn’t worry. “Nah. Nothing like that. Just a headache. Some aches and pains. My face hurts, but I’ll live.” Before I internally combusted, I took control of the conversation, sputtering, “Tell me about acting.”

Tallus had been reaching for his glass of water and paused. He tipped his head to the side, a mild quirk appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Acting? That was… random. Why?”

“I…” Need a crash course , I didn’t say. “You acted in school, right? Plays and such. Performed. On stage. We’ve never talked about it. I’m curious.”

“You want to know about my acting days. Now. Here.” It was more of a statement than a question. “Okaaay. ”

“I want to have a normal conversation, Tallus. I want to learn more about my boyfriend.” An idea occurred to me, and I added, “It’s one of your strengths. The ability to act can be beneficial in our line of work. It’s come in handy before.”

God help me. I wished I had an ounce of skill.

Tallus sat taller at the compliment, his scrutiny vanishing as the cocky, effervescent man I knew and loved returned. It was the right thing to say.

“Well, I’m not nearly as amazing as you think.

In high school, I dreamed of making a career in acting.

Not Hollywood. I wanted to rule the stage.

Broadway style. I’d have moved to New York in a heartbeat.

I mean, not now, but back then, definitely.

Performing in front of an audience gives you a high unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Forget drugs. I craved the spotlight.”

“It suits you.”

His bashful smile hit me in the chest. “Always the flatterer.”

“So why didn’t you follow that dream?”

Tallus rotated his water glass and shrugged. “Too many ticks against me.”

“Your father?” His was as bad as mine. Words could be as powerful as fists, and they, too, left lasting marks.

Tallus rolled his eyes and huffed. “I didn’t give a shit how many times that sperm donor called me a faggot for loving the stage.

It only made me want it more. Costumes. Glitter.

I ate it up just to piss him off sometimes.

You didn’t have to have much skill in high school.

You could suck and still get cast in a lead role so long as you had stage presence.

I had that in spades. However, I soon realized that I had no talent for singing or dancing.

Both are huge assets when it comes to professional theater.

Without those skills, your opportunities are basically cut in half. ”

“You dance like a dream, Tallus. I’ve seen you.” The words were out before I could clamp my teeth and stop them.

Tallus’s brows rose, a wicked grin overtaking him. “Ohhh? And when did you see me dance, Guns?”

A flush raced up the back of my neck and burned my cheeks. “I… at Gasoline. When I used to…”

“Stalk me?”

Shamefully, I nodded. After twice witnessing his erotic moves on the dance floor with other horny men who couldn’t keep their hands off him, I’d learned to wait in the parking lot for Tallus’s nights to end lest I commit violent acts that would land me in prison.

Tallus’s hold on me was powerful, even back then, and those gyrating moves, the fluidity of his sexy body, was imprinted into my mind in bold Technicolor.

I’d jerked off to the memory more times than I could count, wishing those strangers were me.

Tallus leaned over the table and lowered his voice.

“PS. That’s not dancing, Guns. I mean, not truly.

That’s a bump and grind. It’s foreplay and takes zero skill.

Not exactly what I would put on a resume when auditioning for Les Mis , but that’s not the point anymore.

You watched me?” He slowly perused my body. “Did it turn you on?”

“It made me fucking homicidal. I wanted to tear those other men off you and break every one of their goddamn fingers for daring to touch you.”

“Aww. My sweet and ferocious cuddle bear.” His smile lit me up inside, erasing the shadow of remembered jealousy. “You could have joined me. I’d have ditched whatever guy had my attention for you in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t dance.”

“I told you. It’s not dancing.” He bit his lower lip seductively. “I could teach you. ”

I snorted. “Not a chance. Gasoline isn’t my thing.”

“Our living room would work for a tutorial.”

“No.” The single word didn’t carry much conviction.

“Come on, Guns. It feels good rubbing up against a compact, willing body. Are you afraid you might enjoy yourself?”