Page 148 of A Breath of Life
“What about the men who shot him? There’s a tunnel.”
“We discovered it on a floor plan. Every exit was covered. If they haven’t been nabbed yet, they will be.”
“They—”
The man clasped my shoulder. “We’ve got this, bud. Head to the hospital with your friend. We’ll send someone along to talk to you.”
He’s not my friend, I wanted to growl.He’s my blood and skin and bones. He’s the reason my heart continues to beat. He’s the glue that keeps me from shattering. The reason I’m still alive. He’s my savior. My salvation. My own personal paradise. Without him, I am nothing.
But the man would never understand.
I hated cops and wanted nothing more than for this whole ordeal to end, but I nodded, agreeing to whatever he needed because it was easier than trying to make words.
Before they moved Tallus into the ambulance, he reached for my hand.
A word moved his lips, but no sound accompanied it.
“I don’t understand.”
“Work on breathing, buddy,” the paramedic said. “Don’t try to talk just yet.”
Tallus shook his head and tried again regardless. That time, he put enough air behind it, a faint sound escaped. “Nana.”
My heart skipped, and I fumbled the Bishop’s phone from my pocket. “Evergreen Estates nursing home,” I said to the officer. “They had a guy planted there, dressed as a nurse. He was going to—”
“We got a call a little while ago. The home is secure. All the residents are accounted for.”
“And the man?”
“In custody.”
How? I wanted to ask. Who?
“Sir, maybe you should have someone look at your injuries.”
My injuries? What the fuck was he talking about? “I’m fine.”
I had so many questions, but none of them mattered. Nana was okay. Tallus was alive. I returned to his side. He seemed to be anxiously awaiting a response. “She’s safe.”
He grinned from behind an oxygen mask and gave me a thumbs-up. Christ, even with chest trauma, he was a breath of life.
36
Tallus
“Then bam!” I clapped my hands together for effect, grinning when my mother startled. “The guy shot me right in the heart.” I proudly displayed the deep, angry bruise taking up half my chest as I recounted our dramatic escape: Running along a crypt-like hallway that connected the church and the building owned by the Royal Aces and concluding with my heroic sacrifice as I protected Diem from a horde of malicious gangsters, wielding nothing more than a penknife.
I called it brave. My audience—Memphis, Joshua, my mother, and my stepfather—called it stupid. They skeptically listened to the embellished tale, eyeing Diem more than once as though seeking confirmation that the retold facts were indeed facts.
Diem, clearly uncomfortable with the crowd gathered in the undersized hospital room, remained quiet and withdrawn, absently petting Echo, who sat loyally at his side. He hadn’t spoken since I was admitted the previous night, but he was present for every test and everyreport issued by the doctors, never taking his eyes off me for a second. When I say never, I mean the guy didn’t blink like he feared I might vanish the minute he wasn’t looking.
The only time he left my side was to take Echo out for potty breaks and to smoke himself calm. He’d hidden a flask of alcohol somewhere. The glassy sheen in his eyes was a result of more than exhaustion. I was familiar with his need for crutches. Since this one was epically deserved, I didn’t bring it up.
Earlier that morning, I woke with my hulk of a boyfriend beside me in the tiny hospital bed. At some point during the night, he must have grown weary of keeping his eyes open and crawled in beside me. The bed was barely wide enough for one, never mind the two of us, but I didn’t care. The protection of his arms circling my body was a comfort as much for me as I suspected it was for him. To think, at one time, sharing an enormous king-sized bed was too daunting. Oh, how far we’d come.
The police came and went in the early dawn, disturbing our slumber, much to Diem’s displeasure. If either constable thought it strange or offensive to find two men cuddled together, they didn’t vocalize it.
I gave them a brief statement with more holes than Swiss cheese, and they informed me that they would be back later when I was more rested and clearheaded, prompting me to think about the details of the events while I recovered. In other words,your story is bullshit, and we know it.
