Page 34 of A Breath of Life
“Bullshit. Then why are we talking about it?”
“I’m concerned about the man you took it from.”
“I told you. He was sent to the hospital. I don’t know what happened from there. He could have died for all I know.”
“He didn’t, and he’s not there anymore.”
“Well, that’s not my fucking problem.”
“But you see, Ace disagrees. That man is your fucking problem, Mr. Krause, because he’s supposed to be dead, and because of you, he is not.”
I glanced between the Bishop and the Consigliere with disbelief. “Who the fuck are you people?”
“That is not your concern.” The Consigliere rose and waved for the Bishop to return his glass. He paced the room and sipped his drink, examining the wall hangings as though seeing them for the first time.
When he spoke again, it was to a faded tapestry. “This is the situation, Mr. Krause. Ace wants blood. Either you deliver his original target so he can complete the transaction they agreed upon over a year ago, or we’ll need to find my boss a replacement, and the thing is, he’s a hard man to please.”
The man pivoted to face me, chin high as he flaunted his authority. He snapped his fingers at the Bishop. “Get me the tablet.”
The Bishop moved to a short table by a divan and retrieved the device. He handed it to the other man, who passed off his drink once again. For a long minute, the Consigliere’s focus remained on the tablet.
With a clearer head, I spent a second examining the room. No windows. One door. The air was cool but not in an artificial way. Dampness surrounded me, making me think we were underground. A basement, perhaps. An old building. A distant rumble caught my attention, and I swore I felt vibrations under my feet. It wasn’t the first time it had happened either. A subway? We were close to the subway line, but which one? Where?
The Consigliere found what he was looking for and cleared his throat. He plastered on a smug expression as he strolled toward me and turned the tablet. The moment I realized what I was looking at, the oxygen punched from my lungs in a drainingwhoosh. A different kind of pain surfaced. Not physical, but emotional. Crippling. A wave of fear knocked me over.
On the screen, Nana sat in her rocker, fingers tangled in mauve yarn as she pretended to knit, her gaze far away and not on the task. A dwindling square of stockinette remained on one needle. I’d made the swatch mere hours ago. Was it hours? How long had I been here? When had they captured me?
Nana wore different clothing. The sun shone from the window behind her, sparkling in her silver hair. It appeared freshly combed.
“This is real-time, Mr. Krause,” the Consigliere said, answering my unasked question. “We’ve temporarily planted a hidden camera in her room so that you might understand how serious we are.”
Fury like I’d never felt in my life raged inside me. I threw myself at the man, growling like a vicious, starved animal ready to tear apart their prey, but the ties around my wrists caught, cutting into my flesh. The chair didn’t budge. The man stood safely out of reach.
“You motherfucker.” I launched at him again, straining, tugging, and snarling. “You stay the fuck away from her, or I will fucking kill you with my bare fucking hands.”
“Calm down, Mr. Krause. You promised me a civil conversation. If you cannot deliver on your promise, I will walk out that door.”
I thrashed, trying again to reach him. I kicked, snapped my teeth, and spat profanities. “Fuck you. I will tear your fucking head from your fucking body, asshole. I will gut you like a fish. I will rip your intestines out of your belly and shove them down your goddamn throat. Let me go.”
A flash of blinding light shattered my vision into a million pieces. It coincided with the impact of the Bishop’s knee hitting my mouth. My already broken nose sang. I howled loud enough that my poor dog must have heard.
Echo’s frantic barking sounded louder. She whined and howled along with me, tugging at my heartstrings.
Ears ringing, I spat a wad of blood and saliva onto the floor at my feet as the world slowly realigned.
“I need you to calm yourself, Mr. Krause.” An edge of impatience crept into the Consigliere’s tone. “I’m not opposed to having the Bishop hit you again. The longer we take getting to the point, the less friendly I become, and the more battered you will be. I can tell by the scars on your face that you’re a fighter, but might I suggest sitting this one out? You won’t win.”
My lip stung and pulsed with a fresh injury. I prodded it with my tongue, discovering a wide gash. A steady stream of blood ran down my chin.
Finding strength, I lifted my head and blinked the Consigliere back into focus, wanting nothing more than to rearrange his face.
Before ourconversationcould resume, the Bishop moved in with his fucking washcloth. I bared my teeth and snarled, “Back the fuck off, asshole,” making him hesitate.
“Leave him alone.” The Consigliere kicked my foot to redirect my attention. “Are you listening, Mr. Krause? I’m fast losing patience.”
The Consigliere no longer had the tablet. I didn’t see where he’d put it, but a desperate need to see Nana again rose within me. Instead, he withdrew something from the inside pocket of his jacket. From my vantage, they looked like postcards or—
He flipped one around, displaying the front. Then he flashed another, and another, and another, discarding them on the ground at my feet as he went through over a dozen.
