Page 33 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Diem turned off the engine and spent far too long checking mirrors as though waiting for his elusive stalker to show his face.

I scanned, too, but my target was more specific.

Hi Glitter Converse wasn’t around, or rather, if he was, I didn’t see him.

The arrival of nightfall meant he had shadows in which to hide.

Seemingly satisfied we were alone, Diem lugged a duffle bag from the back seat—disturbing Echo’s slumber—and rooted through it. He extracted a few random tools and pocketed them, including his trusty lockpicking kit.

I frowned. “Why do we need that?”

Diem refused to answer the redundant question. He tossed a pair of nitrile gloves into my lap before taking a second pair for himself.

“Why do I need these?”

“Fingerprints.”

I waited for more explanation, but none came. His intention was obvious, but his communication skills had gone out the window some time ago, leaving me floundering with puzzle pieces and no picture to help me assemble them.

I tucked the gloves into a pocket. “D, I love you wholly and completely but with full doses of aggravation mixed in most days. I’m fairly competent when it comes to reading your mind, but I’m going to need you to spell this one out for me. Why are we breaking into Clarence’s apartment? ”

He paused and glanced along the dark street as he worked his jaw. “Because… Clarence isn’t home.”

I waited.

Diem continued digging through the duffle.

I prayed for strength. “And you know this how?”

He withdrew two compact flashlights, tested them, and handed me one. “Clip it to a belt loop.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“No.”

“Why?”

No response.

The last thing Diem removed from the duffle was a thin, long-sleeved shirt. He shook it out and threw it at me. “Put this on. You’re too bright.”

Confused, I examined the garment. Black. My size, not his. The pale dress shirt I’d worn to work would stand out in the dark. “Wait. Do you keep this in there for me?”

“Yes.”

“It has tags on it.”

“Put it on.”

“Guuuns… is this because you anticipated I might tag along when you did your—”

“Shut up and don’t make it a thing. It’s a fucking shirt, Tallus, and you glow in the dark otherwise.”

“Aww, my cuddle bear planned for the eventuality of me joining him on a stakeout. Your love knows no bounds.”

“It’s not a stakeout. It’s B&E, and I didn’t plan for anything.”

“Did so.”

“Did not.”

I unbuttoned my dress shirt, smiling smugly. “Did. So.”

Diem growled under his breath. He could argue all he wanted. Why else would he have an emergency black shirt in my size in his grab-and-go bag? Nothing said love like ensuring your boyfriend was adequately dressed for breaking the law so he would hopefully avoid being arrested and sent to prison.

Diem zipped the duffle and tossed it into the back seat. He scratched Echo’s ear when she huffed her opinion. “You have to stay here, girl. You can’t go where we’re going. Have a sleep. Tallus and I won’t be long, then we’ll go home and get you some dinner.”

Diem sized me up and down, nodding at the shirt. “Much better.”

“You were afraid I was going to end up in prison.”

Diem’s face did a thing, but he chose not to address that comment. “Are you ready?”

“For a life of crime? Bring it.”

“This was a terrible idea. Let’s go.”

I should have been nervous. Someone was stalking us, Diem had recently been badly beaten by unknown men, and we were breaking into a guy’s apartment for reasons Diem wouldn’t explain, but I wasn’t.

I was giddy, but I smartly hid my excitement as best I could, lest I incur a lecture about the seriousness of the situation.

I would do as I was told. Take notes. Prove myself worthy. Then, maybe Diem would let me have those better jobs.

We went around the rear of the building to the dumpsters we had scouted earlier and the line of windows that ran to the top floor.

Without streetlights, the passageway was dark.

A tall fence ran the length of the service road, and more buildings sat on the other side, but if anyone was watching us from within, I couldn’t tell.

Diem didn’t seem concerned, so I tried not to worry about it.

As I’d earlier suspected, the windows that ran in a perpendicular line to the roof marked the ends of hallways on each floor. Washed-out yellow light shone from within. The main level didn’t have a window, but it did have an emergency exit with a slight overhang to protect it from the rain.

Diem checked the door. Locked. The mechanism was industrial and would have required more than a lockpicking kit to open. He seemed to know that and didn’t spend time trying.

Diem scanned the service road in both directions and examined the neighboring building for a long time before motioning me closer and boosting me onto the dumpster nearest the second-story hallway window. He climbed up after me.

“Cameras?” I asked, glancing about.

“No. I checked earlier. Inside might be a different story, but I doubt it. It’s a secure building.

If you aren’t hanging cameras outside, I doubt you give a shit about the inside.

Can you get over there?” He indicated the overhang above the door.

It was two feet away but several feet higher than my position on the dumpster.

“Um. I think so.” I was not an athlete, but I studied the gap and decided it was doable. There wasn’t much in the way of handholds, but I may not need them. If I didn’t make the jump on the first try, the fall wasn’t nasty. The worst I’d get was a skinned knee.

“Wish me luck.”

“You’re fine.”

I backed up, ran, and launched myself toward the overhang. The collision hurt, and I grappled desperately for somewhere to hold before I slid over the edge. The rough surface scraped my hands to shreds, but in the end, I managed to maneuver myself up.

“I think I ripped my new shirt.”

“It was six bucks at Walmart.”

I gasped. “I’m wearing a Walmart shirt? Ew. D. That’s… ew. Do not tell Memphis. I will never live it down. ”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought Diem chuckled. Bastard.

“Will the roof hold me?” Diem asked, my distastefully torn shirt already forgotten.

I bounced a few times, testing its sturdiness, and nodded. “It seems solid. Need a hand?” I offered it out, but he shook his head with a smug grin.

“You can’t hold my weight, Tallus. I’d pull you right over the edge.”

He was right, so I backed up as far as I could to give him room. “Don’t tear your shirt. Unless it, too, was six dollars at Walmart. In that case, I really need to take you shopping and introduce you to fashion.”

“You can’t afford to put gas in your car most days. Check your privilege. There’s nothing wrong with Walmart.”

Diem launched from the dumpster, crashing bodily beside me with a resounding thud. Before I could commend him on his success, he snagged my arm and pulled me down so we lay side by side.

“What are we doing? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I wasn’t exactly quiet. Lie still for a few minutes in case someone heard and comes to investigate.”

“Good call.”

“Take notes.”

“I am.”

Diem’s much larger body warmed one side of me. I pecked a kiss on his temple, startling him.

“What was that for?”

“For bringing me with you. For trusting me to be part of this—whatever this is. I want to make you proud, D.”

Concern marred his features. “You’re a good investigator, Tallus.”

I shrugged. “I’m improving. Learning from the best.” I held up my scraped palms. “All this physical work, and I’ll be sporting gnarly calluses like you in no time. ”

“Those calluses are from weight lifting.”

“Oh. Thank god. I was worried I would need to fit weekly manicures into my budget, and we both know I can’t afford that.”

Smirking, he took my hands and planted soft kisses on the abrasions. “Better?”

“Good as new, cuddle bear.”

The bear trapped behind his ribs growled with pleasure.

After a time, Diem got to his feet and helped me up.

The second-floor window was a pain in the ass.

Diem tested two or three tools before he managed to jimmy the lock and pry it open.

Even then, he struggled to get his six-and-a-half-foot, two-hundred-and-sixty-pound frame through to the other side.

From there, we found a stairwell and headed to the third floor and Clarence’s apartment.

“Shouldn’t we knock first?” I asked when Diem withdrew his lockpicking kit.

“I told you. He’s not home.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“He could have come back while we drove around the city.”

“He didn’t.”

I had a dozen more questions, but Diem offered me the lockpicking kit, effectively erasing them all. I took the kit, confused. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Open the door.”

“But—”

“Open the door. You haven’t shut up about getting the cabin open six months ago, and you’ve watched enough damn YouTube videos to drive me insane. By this point, you should be a pro. Let me see your hotshot skills. I’m timing you.”

“What? That’s not fair. Timing me adds pressure. It’s bad enough I’m wearing a fashion disaster of a long-sleeved shirt when it’s unseasonably warm, but I don’t need stress sweat as well.”

“One minute. Ready?”

“Wait. No. Don’t start counting yet. If I get that door open in one minute or less, what do I get?”

“An open fucking door.”

“Ha ha. And?”

“And nothing. You’re not a child. You don’t get a reward.”

“I need an incentive.”

Diem narrowed his stormy gray eyes, but I caught the hints of humor he was trying to hide. “Fine. If you open the door in under a minute, I’ll fuck you when we get home.”

I huffed. “You were going to do that anyway.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Um, yeah you were. I’m irresistible, and whenever I get naked for bed, you lose all self-control. I don’t mind. I love it, but I need a better prize.”

Diem growled under his breath and wet his lips, seemingly considering. “I’ll… Maybe I could… Christ, I don’t know, Tallus. What do you want? I’m not good at this stuff.”

“You mean I can pick the prize?”

“Yes. Hurry the fuck up. I don’t want to stand in the hallway all night. We’re exposed.”

“Hmm… What do I want?”

“Jesus fucking christ. Never mind. Give me the kit.”

“I got it. It’s a no-brainer.”

Diem paused, waiting.

I grinned. “I want you to mark me.”

“No. ”

“Teeth, hickey, scratches, slap my ass and call me a good boy. Take your pick. One of those.”

The horrified look returned to me spoke of exactly the kind of limits we had in our relationship, and I knew the answer before I’d even voiced the suggestion.

No aggression. No marks.

None.

Zip. Zero. Zilch.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not asking you to abuse me. It’s kinky.”

“Tallus—”

“You can get a little rough sometimes. I’m not fragile.

It’s hot. It’s a turn-on. I want to carry you with me.

Suck a hickey into my skin for once. Leave teeth marks on my inner thighs or fingerprints on my hips so I can look at them in the mirror and know I belong to you.

I consent. Do it. Give me a safe word if you’re truly afraid you’ll take it too far, but I know you won’t. ”

The closed-off look in Diem’s eyes told me I’d asked things of him he couldn’t deliver. That was not the definition of fun or kinky to Diem. I should have kept my mouth shut.

“No.” The single word came out strangled. “I won’t do that, Tallus. If you aren’t happy with the sex we’re having—”

“I love the sex we’re having. That’s not what I’m saying.”

Diem motioned to the lock. “Either open it, or I will. This conversation is over.”

“Can we revisit it later?”

“No.”

Sighing, I handed Diem back the kit. “Go ahead. I can’t do it in under a minute anyhow. I would never have won.”

He stared at the door and the tools for a long time, but Diem’s mind was far away.

Eventually, he turned to me and offered the kit back.

“ No bruises or teeth marks and I will not slap your ass. I can’t…

” A strangled note entered his voice. “I won’t…

hit you. But… Maybe… If you do it in under three minutes, I’ll… I’ll consider a hickey.”

“Really?”

He nodded but turned an ugly shade of green, and I felt bad for even suggesting something I knew he didn’t want to do.

“How about this instead. If I get the lock open in under three minutes, you owe me a dance.”

Diem quirked a brow, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You mean a bump and grind?”

I wiggled my brows. “Foreplay, Guns.”

“At home?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Deal.”

I lifted to my toes and planted a delicate kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I love you, D.”

His features softened, but a hint of distress remained. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Three minutes. I’ll keep watch.”

I popped the lock in one minute and fifty-seven seconds. Pride swelled in my chest when Diem softly whispered, “Good job.”