Page 51 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

The Bishop moved to the sideboard and set the case down, snapping the locks and opening it to reveal an array of tools. My head buzzed with too much energy, nerves twitching and readying themselves for a level of torture I was all too familiar with.

As a child, when my father took the notion to beat me, I would do my best to sever the connection between my mind and body to escape the pain. I’d lost the skill as an adult. Part of me craved pain to a degree. It served as a stark reminder that I was alive.

The Bishop left the instruments untouched but in view. A visual threat. A warning. I’d been privy to those plenty as well. He lingered in the background, clearly not wanting to impose on what was meant to be the Consigliere’s show.

I glared at the fake religious motherfucker, remembering Tallus’s story of running into him on the street. If I ever got my hands on him, on any of them…

The Consigliere cleared his throat, drawing my attention away from the Bishop and his tools. He tsk ed disapprovingly as he stared down his long, beaky nose like he couldn’t quite decide what to do with me.

I held his gaze, challenging him the only way I could when restrained. He would not see my fear.

After a substantial amount of posturing, the Consigliere withdrew an item from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and tossed it on the floor. The decorative ace of spades clattered noisily, landing face up, the engraved skull in the center catching the light in a premonitory fashion.

I stared at it, my vision shrinking, my nerve endings shorting out.

“No.” I didn’t recognize my voice.

I’d left the card with Tallus. Oh god. If they had the card…

Too many words got caught in my throat at the same time, choking me. I couldn’t form a single sentence. I wanted to ask questions but was too afraid of the answers .

“We have a problem,” the Consigliere said, opening the conversation. “Do you know what that card represents to us, Mr. Krause?”

I didn’t respond and only stared from the card to the man, knowing he would go on without prompting, knowing I wouldn’t like what he had to say.

“In our industry, the ace of spades is a mark of death. In fact, its symbolism is widely recognized. You’re a smart man. I’m sure you discovered that in your research.”

“Where’s Tallus?”

“When someone in Ace’s employ fails to obey the rules, or if a bargain is struck but a person does not fulfill their end of the agreement, measures must be taken.

An example must be set. Otherwise, where would we be?

No one enters into a contract with Ace without first understanding the consequences.

He is a reasonable and generous man. He did not get this far by happenstance, Mr. Krause. ”

“Ace is a coward,” I spat. “Why doesn’t he come out here and face me himself? Why send a lackey?”

The Consigliere stepped forward, crouching to retrieve the card. “You’re not listening, Mr. Krause. We’re discussing something of vital importance. Under the circumstances, I suggest you pay close attention.” He displayed the card inches from my face. The monogrammed skull taunted me.

“A mark of death,” he repeated. “Do you understand? In the event that someone displeases Ace, they are brought to his office to rectify the problem. Sometimes, as is his generous nature, Ace grants a person some leeway. In most cases, that means more time to pay a debt or fulfill a promise. It is always a final warning. Clarence entered into an agreement with Ace. He didn’t fulfill his end of the bargain.

He was given an extension. Clarence missed the deadline.

He visited Ace again, pleading for leniency and requesting more time.

How many chances do you think a man should get? ”

The Consigliere waited as though expecting a response. I gave him none. The words A mark of death rang through my head over and over, and all I could think was Where’s Tallus, where’s Tallus, where’s Tallus?

“I feel like you’re not paying attention.” The Consigliere motioned to the Bishop.

“I am.”

The Bishop turned to his case of instruments. I snuck a glance, but the Consigliere continued talking, distracting me from whatever the Bishop was doing.

“It was determined long before Clarence returned to grovel that he would be awarded no further chances. Upon his arrival that evening, Ace granted him an audience, listened to his excuses, and had one of his men officially mark him.”

The Consigliere wagged the card in my face. “Any man who carries this card will not live to tell of it. Do you understand? I can’t be clearer on the matter.”

“Where’s Tallus?” I asked again.

Again, he ignored me. “On a rare occasion, like in your case, Mr. Krause.” He tapped the card on my knee.

“It is given with a different purpose. Death is deferred, provided that you comply with the demands placed on you at the time of the exchange. The sniper has you in his sight, but the order for him to pull the trigger must come from above. Tell me. What were the demands made to you the night we first met?”

“Where’s Tallus? Answer me that. I’m not playing this game with you. ”

“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Krause. This is no game.” He glanced at the Bishop and nodded.

The Bishop approached, carrying pliers and what looked like an intricate letter opener. He gracefully spun the latter in a flowing dance over his fingers, displaying its sleek lines almost gleefully. The handle was made of light-colored wood. The blade shone rich black under the overhead lights.

“Do you like it? Ebony and maple. Special order.” He used the pliers to tilt my chin, so I looked at him and not the blade. “I believe my friend asked you a question.”

I shifted my gaze to the Consigliere, whose brow remained cocked in anticipation.

“I… I was asked to deliver Clarence to Ace.”

The Consigliere rolled his hand. “And?”

“I was told not to tell anyone and to message the number I was given when I found him.”

The Consigliere sighed. “That’s not what I was looking for.”

Before I registered what was happening, the Bishop snagged one of my numb fingers with the pliers, pinching it at the last knuckle before wedging the tip of the letter opener under the nail far enough that an ungodly sting of pain shot up my finger.

Hissing and growling, I tried to pull away, but with my hands and feet bound and his firm grip crushing the digit in the tool’s pinchers, I couldn’t.

“Hurts already, doesn’t it. I haven’t even shoved it in yet. Believe me, Mr. Krause. It’s an ugly thing to have a sharp object stabbed under a nail.” The Bishop smirked. “I hate doing it, but it’s usually effective with people who are too stubborn to talk. I suggest you cooperate.”

“You’re a fucking sadist.”

“I’ve been called worse. ”

“Last chance, Mr. Krause,” the Consigliere said. “Focus. I’m seeking the important details surrounding the card itself. What were your instructions?”

I stared from the threat to my nail to the man waiting for an answer. I’d endured all kinds of torture growing up. My father’s creativity knew no bounds. He had shown no mercy, but this wasn’t something I had experienced, nor did I want to.

“You told me to keep the card on me at all times or else you would hurt one of my loved ones.”

The Bishop and his daunting threat stepped back with a smile, returning to his trunk of treasures to replace his tools, but my heart didn’t calm.

The Consigliere moved into my space again, crouching to be at eye level. “Correct. Those were the terms given to you. Yet you broke that one simple rule. It’s unfortunate, Mr. Krause. Honestly, I’d love to understand why you would leave the mark of death on a man you supposedly love.”

“Please. Where’s Tallus?”

“That is a very good question.”

The Bishop circled behind me as I waded through the meaning behind the Consigliere’s words. His stern expression gave nothing away. A cold darkness lived behind his eyes and sent a chill up my spine.

“What do you mean?”

“Your friend has slipped through our fingers, I’m afraid.”

My heart skipped. Tallus had gotten free. They had lost him. I was too afraid to hope.

“Yes. I figured that might please you.” The Consigliere stood and paced with his arms crossed.

“He’s slippery, that boyfriend of yours, but your stunt back at the courthouse has not done you any favors.

I feel obligated to remind you of your situation, Mr. Krause.

I’m afraid you haven’t taken Ace’s demands seriously. ”

“I have. I’ve been searching for Clarence.”

The Consigliere tipped his head to the side in disbelief.

“Have you? Because it seems to me that you have an ulterior motive. During our first meeting, we discussed the consequences of disobedience. You remember, I assume? You haven’t taken our threats seriously.

In fact, it appears that you have gone out of your way to completely disregard our instructions. ”

“No. I—”

“We will locate your friend, Mr. Krause, and when we do—”

“I’ll find Clarence. Christ. Let me go, and I’ll find him. No more fucking around. I swear.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“If I don’t do as you say, you can let this asshole behind me do whatever he wants. Ace can watch. Carve me to pieces. Tear my nails off. Break every bone in my body. I don’t care. You can put a bullet in my head if you want.”

“Ah, the sacrificial lamb. How noble. How sweet. No deal. As I explained. Ace gives one warning. Consider this it.”

He nodded to the Bishop.

I tensed, anticipating pain, but the Bishop leaned over my shoulder and presented a tablet.

On the screen, Nana rocked in her chair by the window. The warm late summer sun made her skin glow as it shimmered in her silver curls. A man in scrubs sat in front of her, shuffling a deck of cards. I knew all the day nurses at the nursing home, and he wasn’t one of them.

The two appeared to be chatting. At one point, the man reached inside a loose pocket on his scrubs and withdrew a phone, answering what must have been a call .