Page 48 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Tallus

C osta texted back right away, and I easily read the snap in his tone. Where did you hear that name?

My hackles rose, and I stilled. My cousin wouldn’t ask that type of question if the name meant nothing. Unsure how to respond, I cautiously typed, A little birdie whispered it in my ear. Why?

His response was immediate, edging toward hostile. Don’t bullshit me, Tallus. Where?

Knowing I was onto something big, I countered with, Why??? adding enough question marks to reinforce my irritation.

My phone rang.

“Mother—”

I hedged, unsure what to do. My bathroom visitor might have left, but I had an uneasy feeling he hadn’t gone far. What if he was in the hallway listening? What if he came back and caught me talking on the phone ?

Hesitantly, I answered, keeping my voice low. “Hey, cuz. Why won’t you answer me?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Spontaneous case of laryngitis?”

“Tallus. Do not fuck around. This is serious.”

“Why is it serious?”

“Are you in trouble?”

I pff ed. “No. Not at all. I’m hiding. It’s a new game that Diem and I are playing.

It’s called Don’t Get Fucking Caught. He’s off galivanting around the city in plain sight, and I’m tucked away in a gross bathroom stall.

So far, I’m winning, but if you don’t answer my question in the next two seconds, I might scream, then I’ll be caught for sure, and it’s game over. Royal Whispering Ace. Talk to me.”

Costa, the prick, did not talk to me. “You are in trouble. I knew it. I freaking knew it. How do you always land in the middle of a mess?”

“I’m gifted like that.”

“I’m going to start duct-taping your ass to the floor.”

“Sounds kinky, but do not go overprotective cousin on me right now. You had your chance when we were kids, and you blew it. Besides, one suffocating man in my life is all I can handle. Now stop evading and answer the fucking question.”

Spanish curses came through the line before Costa said, “The Royal Aces are a syndicate that our intelligence division has been monitoring for years. They’re wanted for a slew of financial crimes, including money laundering, extortion, and theft.

We suspect they’re involved in drug trafficking as well. ”

“Huh. Interesting. That’s it? Not murder? Your intelligence division is slacking. Tell them to add murder to the list.”

“You had better start talking.”

“Do you know what the Royal Whispering Ace is? ”

“No, but I assume it’s related.”

“I assume so too. My birdie friend claims it’s an underground illegal gambling establishment, but my concerns go deeper.”

Voices arose from outside the bathroom, and I almost dropped the phone as I froze and listened. Sweat coated my entire body, and I could barely think straight from fear that my visitor would return and kick the door in to prove I wasn’t Diem.

“I can’t talk,” I hissed. “This is… not good.”

“Where are you?”

I whimpered, knowing Diem would kill me for telling my cousin anything. But where the fuck was Diem? Why hadn’t he texted me? Why wasn’t he back? “At the courthouse, but I can’t leave.”

“Why?”

“Because… Diem’s gone, and I have the tracker, so they’ll think he’s still here.

It probably doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure the gig’s up.

I texted him and told him I was in trouble and to get back here, but he didn’t respond, so I don’t know if he’s coming, if they caught him, or what’s happening.

Plus, there was a creepy guy who came into the bathroom not that long ago, and it was not to pee. It wasn’t Frank, either.”

More Spanish cursing filled the line, and I heard what sounded like a car door slam. An engine revving to life confirmed my suspicion that Costa was barreling headfirst into the center of our mess. Oh, man. Diem was going to kill me.

As though by fate or perhaps sensing my increased panic or deception, my call waiting beeped. I drew the phone from my ear to see who it was. Diem’s name flashed on the screen.

“Oh, thank god. Costa, hang on. Diem’s calling. ”

I switched lines, and it took everything to stay calm and not sound the alarm. “Diem,” I hissed. “Where are you? I texted you, like, ten minutes ago.”

A muffled noise was followed by a click.

“Hello?”

Dead air, no street sounds, no breathing, no anything. Had he disconnected?

“Diem?”

No response. A moment later, a cycling tone sounded, indicating the call had dropped.

I stared at the phone like it had betrayed me, urging it to ring again. It didn’t.

I switched back to Costa, a lump forming in my throat. “I have to let you go. Diem called, but the line went dead almost immediately. I have to call him back.” But something told me he wouldn’t answer. Something told me bad things were happening.

“Tallus. Listen to me. Get out of there. I’m on my way to you. Stay on the phone. Head to the rear of the building. Do you know the doors where prisoners are admitted after being transported from the jail? Go there.”

“I can’t leave. They’ll know.”

“How? We went through your phone.”

“We went through Diem’s phone, but that’s not it. They’re here, and I have the card.”

“What card? What are you talking about?”

I stared at the leather pouch with the uniquely crafted ace of spades nestled inside. If everything was going to shit, if they knew Diem had abandoned the card, then why take it? The ruse was up, wasn’t it?

Was it?

Why had Diem hung up ?

“Tallus, these people are dangerous. They’ve somehow managed to slip under police radar for years. If you think you’re in trouble, you probably are. You need to get out now.”

“Never mind. I’ll leave it.”

“Leave what?”

I didn’t have time to explain.

I jumped down from the toilet lid and spun.

Carefully and silently, I removed the lid from the tank.

Old building, old toilets. Thank fucking god.

I carefully placed the pouch and card inside, wedging it in a spot that wouldn’t hamper the flushing mechanism.

They would find it, but it might take them a hot minute.

I replaced the lid and faced the stall door.

“Fuck me. Costa, I feel sick. What if they’re waiting for me outside the bathroom?”

“I’m with you. Don’t hang up. No one will hurt you in that building. It’s swarming with cops and security. The most that will happen is that you will be followed. Stay alert. I’m almost there.”

On Costa’s instructions, I barreled from the bathroom, half-expecting to be grabbed.

I wasn’t. The secluded corridor was vacant, so I bolted for the main lobby, all too aware of the goose bumps climbing the back of my neck.

Halfway to my destination, I chanced a glance behind me and scanned, looking for anyone suspicious.

No one had popped through a closed office door.

No one trailed behind. Was I wrong about the bathroom visitor?

In the vast lobby, I slowed to a fast walk, not wanting to draw attention.

I aimed for a different wing, one that would bring me to my destination.

The entire time, I noted faces and reactions, studying both the conspicuous and the inconspicuous.

It was impossible to tell if I had been spotted or was being followed.

The lobby bustled with thick crowds at that time of day, and my anxious brain couldn’t decipher the good people from the bad.

Everyone looked like a villain and innocent at the same time.

I weaved through groups of men and women, apologizing as I went, offering smiles I didn’t feel, and shying away from anyone who looked at me for longer than a heartbeat.

“I’m here,” Costa announced as I barreled through a set of restricted doors someone had just exited and into a long hallway. His voice in my ear startled me. In my flight and with roaring panic as a companion, I had forgotten he was on the other end of the line.

“I’m coming.”

The door behind me slammed, and I was greeted with more offices and an empty hall. It was an administrative section of the building I wasn’t familiar with. I ran, knowing only that I needed to get to the rear as fast as possible. Prisoner transport doors. I had a vague idea of where to go.

A second later, a gravelly-voiced man shouted for me to stop. I glanced back to find I’d been followed by a courthouse security guard. “Sir, you can’t be down here,” he yelled. “Authorized personnel only.”

“I have a meeting with someone,” I yelled back.

“What?” Costa asked.

“Nothing. I’m almost there.” I picked up my pace when the slap of shoes on tiles sounded from behind me. I didn’t have to look to know the guard was on my heels.

“Shit.”

“Are you being followed?” Costa asked.

“By a security guard, yes. By a creepy fucking syndicate member? No idea. I didn’t stop to take notes or ask questions.

Fuck, I hate running.” My lungs burned. Twice, I nearly wiped out when my shoes slid on the polished floor.

I came to a juncture and hesitated, unsure which way to go.

With no time to decide properly, I swung left .

“I thought you wanted to be a cop at one time. You know that includes some element of cardio, right?”

“Fuck off, Costa. I don’t need your anecdotal report on my fitness level right now. I’m being chased, and this place is a fucking maze with no way out.”

I wound another corner at random, and an exit appeared a dozen or so meters ahead. The security guard was hot on my tail and closing in. His shouts echoed against the walls, demanding I stop.

“I’m… almost outside. Not sure if it’s the right door… Fuck me… Be prepared… to fly,” I warned, barely gasping the words out.

Costa cursed as I shouldered out of an emergency exit and into an alley.

I half expected an alarm to sound. For a moment, I couldn’t see Costa’s car and thought I was in the wrong place.

The beep of his horn jolted me, and I found him parked twenty yards away behind a white transport van near a different set of doors.

“Fuck me.” I ran toward him and dove into the passenger seat as the guard burst outside.

“Drive. Go, go, go!”