Page 30 of A Life Chosen

“How far up does this go?” the old man asked furtively. “Paterlini? Higher?”

Mathias thought back to what Junior had said: “There are those of us who prefer things the way they used to be.” An old stalwart like Paterlini, in the boss’s pocket, an easy ally in Piero’s crusade… the son an extension of the father…

“What do you think?” Mathias asked.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Tony spat.

Mathias held up a hand, not wanting to cause a scene. “Nothing’s certain.”

“To take his personal grievance this far? I mean, you’re not old blood, but you’re ranked. It doesn’t make sense.”

Mathias pushed his cup away, now cold. “It’s bigger than that.”

“Bigger how?” Tony pressed, eyes narrowing.

Mathias hesitated, not sure how much to reveal. “Kid said I was the first of many.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth slackened. “Do you know what this means?”

“I know what it means,” Mathias said quietly. “But keep it close. All we have right now is what the kid was stupid enough to tell us.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, tossing his cigar in what remained of his coffee. “Stupid, that’s for sure. Couldn’t even pull off whacking you.”

Mathias smirked despite himself.

“No doubt, the man we have to thank for that is freezing his nuts off by the door,” Tony said, looking pointedly at Rayan. “Don’t let anyone catch wind of that.Paterlini, like our boy Piero, takes things personal. Your rank offers you some protection, but Nadeau might as well be dog meat.”

Mathias understood the warning. He’d already realized the wider implications of this. “Some protection,” he muttered.

“You and trouble. I swear.” Tony sighed. “You’re benched, by the way. Both of you. The Russians are up in arms. Belkov’s withholding payments, refusing to deal with us. I can’t have you out working with a target on your back.”

While it didn’t come as a surprise, it still made Mathias’s jaw tighten. “How long?”

Tony shrugged. “A couple weeks? A month? We gotta see how far they’ll take this.”

“I’ll go see him,” Mathias said. “Smooth things over.”

Tony scowled. “The fuck you will. It’ll do more harm than good. As far as he’s concerned, you clipped two of his men unwarranted. He’ll be well within his rights to put one between your eyes.” He stood to leave, pausing to toss a few bucks down on the table. “Lay low for a bit. Look out for yourself.”

Mathias clenched his teeth, holding back the fury of words that threatened to overcome him.

Rayan woke with a jerk, his body lifting off the mattress. For a moment, he didn’t recognize the darkened room and felt his pulse skip, paralyzed by the same fear he’d felt all those nights on the street—the unknown threat looming as he slept, never sure what he’d find when he awakened.

After climbing unsteadily out of bed, Rayan made his way to the window, unfastened the catch, and heaved up the old wooden frame. A gust of freezing night air buffeted his face, and he leaned into it, relishing the feel against his clammy skin. He didn’t recall falling asleep. He’d come home in the afternoon, his head foggy, and lain down for just a second. Turning to the clock on his nightstand, Rayan saw it was past ten.

He closed his eyes, hoping to erase the images from his dream. His first kill, Barry Olman, had been several years ago, but the man’s face was permanently etched in his brain. The way his eyes had widened to reveal the whites… Rayan remembered thinking about the blood pumping around his body and how his bullet punctured Olman like a pin, allowing it to gush to the floor at his feet. In the dream, the man clawed manically at his ankles, a distorted cry coming from his mouth as Rayan shot him again and again. In reality, Olman had fallen like a stone as though by magic. Ifthe gun hadn’t felt so heavy in his hand, Rayan could have almost pretended he’d had no part in it. It had taken Mathias’s hand on his shoulder to snap him out of it. Otherwise, he would have remained there, frozen.

He sat down heavily on the end of his bed. It was an old nightmare, one he’d thought himself rid of. But it had resurfaced after the incident with Junior. Now it came most nights. Sometimes the dead man morphed into his brother. Sometimes Mathias. Rayan would feel the same jolt of terror he’d had at seeing Junior’s gun pressed against his boss’s forehead. But this time, he would be too late.

He reached for his jeans and a faded sweatshirt then pulled on a pair of sneakers and laced up. Nights like these, nothing helped but to walk the city, the thud of his feet on pavement enough to quiet the incessant hum of thoughts. He grabbed his phone and a handful of cash from the nightstand, slipped into his coat, and locked the door behind him.

Rayan jogged down three flights of stairs and emerged onto the street. He ducked his head against the cold, burying his hands in his pockets as he crossed the road and headed down a side alley toward Saint Denis. From there, he turned onto des Carrières, stalking along the darkened street. Propelled by nostalgia, he crossed the empty parking lot on his right and followed the fence line to where he knew the wire had been cut. Rayan pushed through it and walked down a small slope, the highway roaring overhead. His feet cut across the maze of scrap metal, discarded bottles, and old tires. He’d spent enough time out here to know the terrain from memory.

As he approached the darkened area under the overpass, Rayan began to make out several figures. Some were lying huddled together, trying to sleep through the cold, while two men with their hoods pulled up stood around a rusted-out barrel that had been converted into a firepit.

“Christ! Rayan?” One of them stepped back, staring at him, the glow from the flames illuminating his face. “I thought you were dead!”

Even from where he was standing, Rayan recognized Evan—the paranoid flick of his green eyes, his nose uneven, broken more than once during scuffles he was too high to remember. Seeing him again made Rayan think of Tahir. It was impossible to return to this life and not be reminded of his brother. Tahir had been good friends with Evan, especially when he became one of his regulars.

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