Page 66 of A Breath of Life
“I don’t…dance.” I added my own weak emphasis, my resolve incinerated by the inferno engulfing my system.
“Maybe not in our early days, but I bet you’ddancelike a dream now.”
“I… can’t.”
“I’ll teach you, sweetheart.” Tallus helped himself to an array of kebabs. “Easy peasy.”
How had we gotten on this subject?
Acting. Right. We were talking about acting. I did this.Fuck me.
I scrambled for a segue, a new topic, something to douse the flames when a thought occurred to me. “Did you know I was there?”
Tallus licked a saucy finger and quirked a brow. “Where?”
“At Gasoline.” I’d always wondered if he played up thosedancingencounters to piss me off.
Tallus chuckled as he pulled chunks of meat off a skewer with a piece of pita bread. He scanned the restaurant and lowered his voice. “Guns, Ialwaysknew when you were around. At Gas. When you followed me to work. When you sat outside my apartment. When Memphis and I were out shopping. Even when I ventured to the café for my morning latte. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought. Plus, I grew up an undersized twink in a conservative school. Out or not, I was the target of a lot of jock bullying. I grew eyes in the back of my head for safety.”
Befuddled, I absorbed his words. For years, I’d considered myself a skilled PI, particularly when it came to surveillance. To think Tallus had known about every instance I’d stalked him unsettled me.
“You seem surprised.”
I selected a few kebabs and transferred them to my plate, but I didn’t eat. I considered the hidden threat of Ace’s associates. The dozens of photographs taken of Tallus. The infiltration into Nana’s nursing home.
I’d been on guard, trying to locate Ace’s eyes since waking up in the alley. Was I that bad at my job, or was Tallus supremely observant? He didn’t realize he was being followed the night I was gone. Was that due to stress? Had his worry for me trumped his worry for himself?
He ate, watching as I rolled facts through my mind. Twice, he scanned the restaurant—something I should have been doing.
I briefly inspected the crowd. No one stood out. Everything was the same. “How did I give myself away? How did you know?”
Tallus filled his fork with meat. “Well, you weren’t that subtle. I knew your Jeep, and it was easy enough to spot from my window. I first noticed you out there on one of the nights you showed up at my door. I thought it was your vehicle, but your appearance confirmed it. I took note of your license plate. You kept a distance most of the time, but I picked up on a pattern. You never watched me from less than half a block away. Always a distance.
I cringed, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear. Those were the days of our hookups. The days of impersonal sex when Tallus would beg me to touch him, and I couldn’t. Those encounters were never good. Christ, it was… functional sex at best, and he’d said as much.
Functional sex was enough for a guy like me. Until it wasn’t. I hated disappointing Tallus. I hated walking away and seeing that look in his eyes. I hated the knot that grew in my belly every time I knocked on his door, certain he would tell me to fuck off. I had started to desire Tallus with a fervor I couldn’t ignore and wanted to be with him all the time. The obsession had made me stupid.
I picked at my food, still too nauseous to eat. “Why didn’t you report me?”
Tallus laughed. “Because I liked you, Guns. It didn’t creep me out. I was waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and admit you liked me too. And it worked. Here we are.”
“Here we are,” I repeated, brows knit. “Is the sex better?”
“Yeah, Diem. The sex is way better.”
But it wasn’t perfect. He still wanted things I hadn’t been able to give him.
He touched my hand. “Eat your dinner. It’s getting cold.”
For a while, we ate without speaking. My phone vibrated with a text before the platter was empty. The number displayed as unavailable. I angled the device so Tallus couldn’t see before opening it. I half feared it might be the Consigliere or one of his cronies, but it was Buren.
Clarence Audraine. DOB May 14, 1990. 200 Elm. Apt 312. Discharged himself Friday morning against doctor’s orders.
“Is that your buddy?” Tallus asked.
“Yeah.” I laid my phone flat and spun it to face him so he could read the message.
“Excellent. Let’s finish eating and make a house call, shall we?”
