Page 118 of A Breath of Life
Let your guard down, my inner voice screamed. I didn’t have a plan. I was outnumbered, and the risks were too high to do something stupid, but sitting and doing nothing reminded me too much of the days I’d submitted to my father’s abuse.
I was not a coward anymore.
With a hard-done-by sigh, the Bishop produced his phone and made a call. “The prisoner is requesting a cigarette.” He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not your call… I don’t care what brand. He’s not in a position to be choosy. Get whatever you can find.”
Another pause. The Bishop eyed me warily, glancing at my hands. “And see if you can locate a proper pair of handcuffs. I don’t want to hold the thing for him. He might bite my fingers off, and I’ll be forced to kill him before Ace gives the order.”
I snorted. Fucking right I would bite him if he got close enough.
The Bishop disconnected and glared as though expecting a thank you. It would be a cold day in hell. When he didn’t get what he wanted, he exhaled his frustration and wandered to the sideboard, refilling the glass. Excellent.
Cuffs, a cigarette, and another drink. I would take the wins where I could. “What’s your name?” I asked as the Bishop put the stopper in the crystal decanter.
“It’s not relevant.”
“If I’m going to be a corpse in twenty-four hours, what does it matter? Can’t tell your secrets if I’m dead.”
Sauntering over, he observed me with a tilted head as though the new angle might give him an inner perspective of my mind. “You have no faith in your partner.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re convinced you’re going to die.”
“I have full faith in Tallus. It’s your boss I don’t trust to keep his word. He has no intention of releasing me. I know how these things play out. Once he gets what he wants, I’m as good as dead.”
The Bishop held the glass to my lips, and I welcomed the distraction. It burned less that time, slipping smoothly down my esophagus and coating my belly with warmth. When it was gone, I sighed. “So, no name, huh?”
“No.”
“Are you really a Bishop?”
“I’m a man of God.”
I snorted. “Why do I doubt that? I’m not a subscriber, nor have I read the bible, but I feel confident in saying that he probably isn’t a fan of your extracurricular activities.”
The Bishop smiled. “Your opinion is duly noted.”
The door opened, and the gunman from the car entered, his pockmarked face more menacing with his scowl. He glared daggers in my direction as he handed the Bishop the items he had requested.
“Anything yet?” the Bishop asked.
“Still in the wind.”
The Bishoptsked as he examined the handcuffs. “Should have sent me instead.”
“Because you’re a miracle worker?”
“Yes.” The Bishop nodded to my bound hands. “Help me switch to these. I don’t trust him.”
The two made quick work of removing the wire and locking me into cuffs instead. With proper blood flow came excruciating pain. I growled and gritted my teeth as deadened nerves roared to life, screaming their protest at having been suffocated for so long.
At some point, as I recovered, the gunman must have left. By the time feeling returned to my hands, I was alone again with the Bishop. The white-hot rebirth of my senses brought fresh anger to the surface. Short of throwing myself against the bindings, knowing it would do no good, I breathed, nostrils flaring.
“Better?”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
“The words you are looking for arethank you.”
