Page 36 of A Breath of Life
“You will not go to the nursing home. You will not call there, and you will not send anyone in your stead. If I catch any hint that you’re trying to relocate the old woman or warn the authorities that her safety is in jeopardy, she dies. Don’t think you can get to her before me. I have inside people who will move faster than you can blink.”
Red clouded my vision, and it took all my self-control not to react. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It was a dream. A nightmare. I was having a stress-induced nightmare because I’d argued with Tallus.
But the copper taste of blood in my mouth and the pounding headache behind my eyes defied logic. Dreams were a cesspool of rotting emotions, but they never physically ailed me. The lashes from my father’s belt never stung. His punches never throbbed. The gashes he inflicted might bleed, but they never ached or burned or pulsed with their own heartbeat.
This was real.
“I will leave you with a phone number,” the Consigliere went on. “Tracing it will get you nowhere, so I suggest not wasting your time on trivial matters. You will use it to communicate with me when you find Clarence. We will discuss the exchange at that time. Like the card, you will keep your phone on you at all times. Should I need to contact you for any reason, you will answer without delay. If you do not.” He glanced at the tablet, his meaning clear.
“Lastly,” he continued, “You will not breathe a word of this to your partner.” He kicked at the mess of photographs strewn across the floor.
I frowned. “But Tallus can help me.”
“No. Mr. Domingo will remain oblivious of our transaction and your duty. Do you understand? You will carry on as normal, giving no hint that anything is amiss.”
I chuffed and shook my head. “Impossible. You clearly don’t know my boyfriend. He has a sixth sense for shit like this. He knows my moods before I do. He reads me like a fucking book even when I don’t want him to. He’s going to know something’s up.”
“Then you have an extra responsibility to ensure he doesn’t find out.”
“I’m not the fucking actor in our relationship.”
“I suggest you learn fast.No oneis to know about our deal, Mr. Krause. Do I make myself clear? Is the life of your grandmother and boyfriend not enough incentive?” His volume rose with his temper. “I think we’ve proven how easy it is to infiltrate your life. We have eyes on everyone you love. If this man—” Again, he kicked the pile of photographs. “—proves to be an issue, we will be forced to eliminate him from the equation. This is a delicate situation. Be sure he remains ignorant. Can you do that, Mr. Krause, or should I remove the obstacle before we begin?” He unearthed a cell. “One call is all it will take.”
“No. I can do it,” I stammered, my gaze catching on a picture of Tallus with his phone pressed to his ear. A worried expression creased his brow, pale cheeks gleaming under the low parking garage lighting. The photographer had zoomed in close enough that it caught the glassy sheen of his hazel eyes. Tears. Tallus was distraught at my absence.
How long had I been gone? What must he be thinking?
Our argument came back to me. Every nonsensical detail. How irrelevant it all seemed. How stupid. He’d gone out looking for me when I hadn’t come home. Danger had followed in the shadows. The thought of anyone getting that close to him made me sick.
And Nana.Oh Jesus. What had I gotten myself into?
“Do we have adeal, Mr. Krause?”
Bile rose up my throat. I trembled with shot nerves and undiluted fear. Lifting my gaze from the scattered photographs, I met the Consigliere’s cold stare. I didn’t have a choice. I either did what he said, or the only two people I loved would die.
“Deal.”
I didn’t see the hit coming, but I felt the impact at the same moment my world went dark.
10
Tallus
By ten in the morning, utterly sick with worry and convinced Diem wasn’t coming home, I reluctantly dressed and went to the office.
Nothing had changed. It remained as lifeless as it had been the previous night when I’d checked. No sign that Diem had been on the computer. No new garbage in the pail. Every pen and paper clip was in the exact same spot. His chair hadn’t moved positions. The shade on the window remained pulled, and he only did that when the afternoon sun made a glare on his screen. He opened it in the morning because Diem liked the birds who perched on the windowsill and sang. I suspected he fed them, but when asked, he vehemently denied it.
Diem hadn’t come home.
He wasn’t at work.
His Jeep sat cold in the parking garage at our apartment building.
Something was wrong. I felt it in my bones. Diem was moody and prone to instability, but this wasn’t like him.
Numb, I sat at the reception desk and stared at my phone, wanting to call someone but partly convinced I was overreacting. Diem had often told me that I needed to slow down, think, and stop jumping to instant conclusions. I could hear him inside my head, and I missed him with unexpected urgency and desperation. Over the past year, the surly guy burrowed into my chest and made a home in my heart. I would rather he bitch and moan about my irritatingly childish behavior than vanish without a word.
Our argument was clearly more serious than I realized. Had he gone to a motel? Was he drunk and passed out in an alley somewhere?
