Page 20 of A Life Chosen

Tony blew a cloud of smoke between them, squinting. “Fine. But no complaints, you hear me? Or I dock your commission next month.”

Mathias smirked. “Deal.” He didn’t need a cent of the money, but he’d be damned if he did Tony a favor for free. His time was worth something at least.

Tony finished his drink and cleared his throat. “Heard about your old man.”

Mathias felt a familiar clench in his stomach. He worked hard to keep his face neutral. “Anything interesting?”

Tony gave him a level stare. “You can be cocky all you want, but there ain’t no shame in a man mourning his father.”

“Who said anything about mourning?” Mathias said with a snicker, pushing away the thoughts of his father. “Good riddance.” He stood and pocketed his smokes before Tony could say something more. “So, what’s this kid’s name?”

His name was Silvano Paterlini Junior, and he was a short, stocky twenty-one-year-old with a nose that flattened across half of his pockmarked face. He had an entitled smirk but was mindful to show Mathias the proper respect when he appeared at the Collections office on Wednesday morning.

“Call me Junior,” he said, holding out his hand.

Mathias could think of several other names he’d have preferred to call him. He shook the kid’s hand reluctantly, and they walked out to the lot, where Rayan stood waiting by the car.

“Who’s this?” Junior asked, cocking his head in Rayan’s direction.

His second remained silent, looking warily at Silvano, who sported a gold chain and sunglasses. Mathias had briefly mentioned the favor to Tony on the drive back to the office the previous evening. They hadn’t spoken much since the day of the hospital, a coolness settling over their regular interactions. Rayan, to his credit—or more to Mathias’s training—had said nothing.

“Does he talk?”

“Exactly. You should take some pointers.” Mathias pulled open the passenger door as his second got in behind the wheel. Junior’s face darkened as he climbed into the back seat. Rayan started the engine and began reversing out of the parking lot.

“Wait—so theestraneosits up front?”

“Stop the car,” Mathias instructed.

Rayan thumped the brake, and the kid smacked his head on the seat in front of him. Mathias turned to look at him.

“Silvano, this is Rayan. He sits up front because his job is to get between me and a bullet. You sit in the back because your papà paid me to babysit. Clear?”

Junior scowled, nodding slowly. Mathias cracked his neck, and they rolled out onto the street.

Rayan pushed Eugene Waith’s head into the murky water that filled one of many rusted oil barrels stacked behind the mechanic’s workshop at Beaubien Auto Service. Waith’s fingers scrabbled at the metal and at the grip around his neck, but Rayan held firm. Mathias studied his second’s blank expression. So practiced was he at masking what lay beneath, yet Mathias had seen Rayan’s face when he allowed that mask to slip. He could not get the image out of his mind.

Junior stood beside him, grinning. He had the air of a kid who’d been jacked up on sugar all morning. Rayan pulled the man up. Waith coughed and spluttered as he sucked in a wracked breath.

“We can do this all day,” Mathias said. “Though I’ve got better places to be.”

Waith owned several automotive repair shops around the city and had borrowed a not insignificant amount of money from the family to open a new garage after the banks turned him down. For good reason, apparently. He was two months behind on interest for the loan.

One month, Mathias could handle. Two months left him looking a fool.

Waith shook his head in panic. “Honest to God, I don’t have it, but I’ll get it. Tomorrow. Give me until tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to come back tomorrow,” Mathias said, walking toward him. “That’s why I’m here today.”

He stooped to pick up a discarded crowbar, brushing the dirt from his Armani pants. Waith’s eyes widened, but Rayan’s grip on his arm held him in place. Mathias swung fast before he could protest and brought the metal bar down on the man’s right foot. Waith howled like an animal, his leg collapsing as Rayan kept him upright. Behind him, Junior let out a hoot.

“Where’s the money?”

Waith’s eyes jumped from him to Silvano then back to Mathias. “In the safe. There’s some in the safe. Not everything, but it’s all I have. There’ll be more. I just need time.”

Mathias spun the crowbar, and the man flinched. “Give us the code. Careful—I don’t want my associate here to have to go in twice.”

Waith rattled off a series of numbers.

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