Page 29 of A Life Chosen

It wasn’t luck he had to thank. Blinded by Rayan’s status as an outsider, Junior had underestimated the man’s experience—and his dedication. He wasn’t some shiftless lackey content to sit around, killing time. And he’d accompanied Mathias on enough tedious collections to know exactly how long a handoff with the Russians should take.

“I’ll send someone to clean up. Paterlini’s going to want the body. And some kind of penance, I’d imagine.”

Mathias gave the councilman the address, staring at the smoke curling above his head. “And Belkov?”

“When Belkov catches wind his men were clipped unprovoked,” Giovanni said grimly, “my guess is it’ll start a turf war.”

Mathias watched the end of his cigarette burn between his fingers.

“Either way,” the old man continued, “it’s not good.”

No shit.Mathias could feel the blackness closing in around him.

“I’ll be in touch.” Giovanni hung up.

Mathias picked up the decanter from the corner of his desk and poured himself a drink. The next thing he knew, the room was dark, and several hours had passed. His mind kept slipping, trying to right itself. He glanced over at the decanter to find it empty.

Standing unsteadily, he made his way back to the living room, rubbing a palm across his face to clear the fog. He found Rayan on the sofa, head bent toward hischest, having fallen asleep sitting up. Mathias stared at him. He felt the thoughts coming, no longer subdued, worming past his defenses.

For an instant, Mathias had been sure—had known with absolute certainty—that it was the end. In the blur of disappointments that was his life, he’d wondered what had been worth it. And what had run through his head? Nothing but thoughts of this man.

Chapter Eleven

Tony nursed a cup of black coffee in one hand and a cigar in the other, alternating between bringing them to his mouth. Mathias sat across from him, his untouched coffee cooling on the table. They were at Gino’s, sitting by the window beneath the buzz of an infrared heater. Nick had turned it on to shield them from the chill that had settled over the city. His boss cocked his head at Rayan on the other side of the glass, standing by the entrance to the deli.

“Tied him up outside?”

“Can’t be too careful,” Mathias replied.

It had been three days, and he still couldn’t shake the paranoia—the feeling of walking on a knife’s edge, as though some lackey loyal to Piero was lurking in the lobby of his building, ready to jump him in the parking garage. That was why they were at Gino’s and not the office. The more people around to witness, the less likely there would be trouble. The encounter with Junior had rattled Mathias more than he cared to admit, the fact that it was an inside job heightening his distrust of the very people he’d spent years working alongside. He followed Giovanni’s logic about Piero lying low, especially in the wake of the fallout. But logic didn’t help him sleep at night.

“Let him take a load off,” Tony grunted, taking a swig of his brew. “I mean, Christ, he can’t sit for a fucking coffee?”

“What was it you wanted to discuss?” Mathias asked, ignoring the question.

It was Rayan who’d insisted on standing guard. He’d been just as jumpy as Mathias these past few days, no doubt gripped by the same fear.

“While the coffee isn’t worth it, I have missed seeing you,” Mathias said sarcastically.

Tony fixed him with a grim stare. “I don’t believe for a second that Belkov’s goons took a shot at you, so don’t peddle that bullshit withme.”

Giovanni had managed to keep things under wraps long enough for them to spin their version of the truth. It was already beginning to circle through the family. But there was no getting past Tony. Mathias should have known that.

The man leaned forward, lowering his voice. “It was the kid, wasn’t it?”

“Awfully keen to have him on the team, weren’t you?” Mathias said.

“Fuck’s sake,” Tony snapped, glancing around quickly. “I had no idea—got it?”

In truth, Mathias hadn’t been suspicious of Tony. He was a surly old bastard when he wanted to be, but his loyalty to Giorgio Russo ran deep.

“The gall—playing me like that,” Tony said.

“You poor thing,” Mathias said stonily. “What did Paterlini say, specifically, when he wanted you to take Junior on? You said he asked for me.”

Tony exhaled. “What I told you—he thought the kid was aimless, needed some guidance. Thought someone self-made would be the perfect mentor. He mentioned your name.”

Of course he did. I was the fucking target.

---