Page 68 of Power of the Mind

Tallus gently touched my arm and lowered his voice. “Relax, Guns. Let me do the talking.”

16

Tallus

What was meant to be a quick jaunt back to the Jeep came to an abrupt halt when one of the constables in the cemetery called us over. Worse, Diem threw up walls. A murderous look settled in his eyes at the summons. He didn’t gel with authority, so if I didn’t take control and defuse the situation fast, we’d be warming a cell for the night. I didn’t haveGo to Jailon my Bingo card this year, so I planned to avoid it.

“What are you two up to?” The constable’s bushy white mustache danced when he talked. With thumbs hooked in his belt loops, he puffed his chest to make himself look bigger and more daunting. Wearing the stern cop face I saw at the office daily, the man didn’t look impressed. I was convinced they taught severe expressions at the academy, maybe made them practice in a mirror. Diem had pulled the same face more than once in the few months I’d known him, but he made it look sexy.

“We were heading back to our vehicle. We’re parked on Beecroft.” I pointed unnecessarily. “Quicker to cut through the cemetery than to go around. Is there a problem?”

The constable scanned us, lingering longer on Diem, shining the flashlight in his face. “Where are you coming from?”

“We were at a friend’s on Park Home Avenue,” I answered, even though he was still focused on scrutinizing Diem.

“Uh-huh. Been drinking tonight?”

“No, sir.”

“How about you?” The constable hitched his chin at Diem, and I caught a hint of smugness in his tone. Did the guy recognize Diem? Had they worked together in the past?

Diem shook his head in the negative, holding the officer’s gaze like they were in a to-the-death staring contest. I wrapped my fingers around Diem’s arm, hoping the contact would keep him levelheaded or remind him to breathe.

“You take recreational drugs?”

“No, sir,” I said louder, hoping to redirect his attention from Diem to me. But it didn’t work. The officer’s gaze remained fixed on the rage-filled brick wall to my left.

“No,” Diem bit out, jaw ticking.

I lightly squeezed his arm, hoping he’d get the message. The fact he hadn’t pulled away from my touch yet was astounding.

Constable Cranky Pants scanned us once more and waved to the path we’d been following. “Go on. Get outta here.”

I tugged Diem’s arm, encouraging him to move since we’d been given the green light, but he planted his feet and wouldn’t budge.

To the constable, he said, “Tell Sergeant Quartier Krause said hi.”

The constable huffed. “Do it yourself. You should thank me for letting you go so easily.”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Yeah, I know your reputation, Krause. I could bring you in for any number of things, and no one would blink an eye.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Diem,” I hissed under my breath. “Do not call this friendly officer an asshole. I do not want to go to jail. Orange is not the new black. I don’t care who says it is. They’re wrong. Come on. Move your stubborn ass.”

I tugged his arm again. Still no juice, so I pulled a page directly from Diem’s book and growled under my breath.

The stubborn, surly man’s lips twitched as he flashed his still stormy gaze toward me.

“Did you just growl?”

“What? You can, and I can’t? Move your ass, you mule.”

Diem complied, and I didn’t release his arm until we were safely out of the cemetery and across Beecroft Road, standing on the sidewalk beside the Jeep.

“Fucking jerkoff,” Diem muttered under his breath, glaring back from where we’d come.

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