Page 88 of A Breath of Life
Diem’s entire body went rigid. For a long moment, he didn’t move or breathe. Silence prevailed, and all I could hear were the birds chirping outside the covered window and the traffic on the street below. Slowly, Diem turned his attention from the computer. All the color drained from his face, leaving him a sickly gray under the overhead lighting. I instantly regretted speaking.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but Diem’s hand flew up in a universal sign for stop. The wide-eyed panic on his face was more effective than the gesture.
I clamped my mouth shut as he held a finger to his lips. He moved to stand, seemed to think better of it, and dropped heavily into his seat, gears visibly spinning. Sweat prickled his forehead and upper lip. I’d never seen him so unhinged, so undecided.
So afraid.
He collected both our phones, used his teeth to untie the card from his wrist, and moved to a filing cabinet he kept in the corner. He touched the drawer handle as though to open it, but stopped short and glanced around. Snagging a discarded hoodie from the back of his deskchair—it had been hanging there for months—he wrapped it around the items and tucked them away at the back of a cabinet drawer before closing the squeaky door with as little noise as possible.
He faced me, fear painting deep lines beside his eyes. Warily, he glanced around as though someone might materialize from nowhere. At the window, he double-checked that the curtains were drawn seamlessly. When he returned to the desk, he sat cautiously on the edge of his chair. Rigid. Alert.
Again, I opened my mouth to speak, figuring it was safe now, but Diem shook his head. He unearthed the hidden notebook from under Clarence’s and turned to a fresh page.
Don’t talk, he wrote.They might be listening.
I waved for him to give me the pen. Reluctantly, he slid both it and the notebook toward me.
Who are they?
He shook his head.
Frustrated at his stubbornness, I flipped back to the page where he’d compiled notes and pointed at the three monickers he’d written at the top.Ace. The Consigliere. The Bishop.I cocked a brow, asking the question again without the need for words.
Diem’s nostrils flared, but when I refused to back down, his shoulders slumped. He scrubbed a hand over his face before wincing and hissing with pain. Fisting a hand, he cracked his knuckles and looked like he wanted to slam it against the desk but resisted.
His meaningful glare accused me of snooping.
I shrugged, crossed my arms, and waited.Yeah, the gesture said,So what? You lied to me.
Defeat drained Diem’s resolve. He took up the pen.I don’t know who they are.
They want Clarence, I wrote.
Diem nodded.
Why?I asked.
Diem hesitated before writing,He had some kind of deal with Ace and broke it. Ace wants him dead.
I stared at the words, absorbing them. When I didn’t immediately reach for the pen, Diem pointed at his wrist and wrote more.The card is a tracking device. I’m to keep it on me at all times, or else. It was planted on Clarence the night we found him. He was followed and attacked by the Bishop in the alley. He was meant to die that night. We interfered. Clarence is in the wind, and Ace wants blood. If I don’t deliver him by Sunday at midnight, he’ll find a substitute.
It took a hot minute to absorb all he wrote. The card was a tracking device. Intricate fucking tracking device. Jesus.
I waved for the pen.I assume they’re listening, too?Why else were we communicating like this?
Diem pressed his lips together, brows knitting.I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but I can’t risk it. You aren’t meant to know any of this. My phone could have been tapped. They took it while I was being held. Maybe the card does both. Either way, if they discover I told you anything…
His hand stilled, pen hovering over the paper. He seemed unable to finish the sentence, but I had a feeling I understood.
They threatened to hurt me if you didn’t do as they said, I wrote.
For the second time in five minutes, Diem looked on the verge of throwing up. When he took the pen, it trembled in his oversized hand.Not just you. Nana too. It’s no joke, Tallus. They’re serious. You saw what they did to Clarence in the alley. He was meant to die. They showed me Nana. They planted a camera at the home. They have eyes everywhere. If they hurt her…
Again, he stalled.
It was my turn to pale. Who the fuck threatened a ninety-year-old woman? A woman in the advanced stages of dementia. It was beyond cruel, and it would utterly destroy Diem. She was all the family he had.
I wrote again.Tell me everything.
