Page 25 of A Life Chosen

It was oddly sentimental, a trait he hadn’t attributed to the man, who appeared content as his life was blown from one extreme to the next.

His second shrugged. “When I was young, I wanted to be a pilot.”

Mathias raised an eyebrow. “If I remember, it’s not so much about flying as it is about survival.”

“Right,” Rayan said, a strange look flickering across his face. “Maybe she knew me better than I thought.”

Mathias watched Rayan change shape before him, streaks of color filling in what had been an empty outline. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of the cheap cognac. “You would’ve made a shitty pilot.”

Rayan laughed. “I figured it was the fastest way out of Maskinongé.” He leaned against the wall, observing Mathias. “Tony said you went to university.”

“In another life.”

“What did you study?”

“Finance, economics.” Mathias paused. “Some literature.”

“Modern?”

“French.”

Rayan smiled knowingly. “Which is why you can’t standHouellebecq.”

“That man is rotten.” Mathias swallowed another mouthful. It wasn’t half bad if you were a newly minted eighteen-year-old looking to get wasted. “What’s with the books?”

Rayan stared at the water in his hand, stalling. “I didn’t finish school,” he said finally. “Thought reading might make up for what I missed.”

“What you missed?”

“You know, an education.”

Rayan was smart—that wasn’t hard to glean from even a passing conversation. If you could pull the words out of him. It was strange to see him discredit himself over something so trivial.

“I’ve worked with men who couldn’t figure out the tax on a bagel,” Mathias scoffed. “You didn’t miss much.”

Rayan brought the glass to his lips, and Mathias watched the mask return. He could tell the man didn’t believe him.

Chapter Ten

Tony stopped him on his way out of the office. Rayan was waiting in the parking lot with Junior while Mathias stepped in to give his boss the adjusted figures for the Russian payment they were due to collect that afternoon. He hadn’t forgotten—he was going to make sure Belkov paid for his disrespect.

“Kid’s complaining he’s not doing anything,” Tony said, downing the last of his coffee.

“He’s done plenty,” Mathias retorted.

“Bit of roughhousing maybe, but he wants in on some real action,” the Collections head grumbled. “Throw him a bone, Mathias.”

“Or he’ll run to Daddy?” he snapped. “He’s impulsive, careless. It’s bad enough having him out on jobs, let alone trusting him with anything important.”

“Then give him something low stakes. Tell Nadeau to hang back and let the kid lead for a change—wave his gun around, talk some shit.”

Mathias scowled. “This isn’t a fucking game.”

“Tell Paterlini that.” Tony crumpled up his cup and gave Mathias a look, his word final. “In the meantime, give him something to do, for Christ’s sake.”

Rayan was standing alone by the car when he returned.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked.

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