Page 32 of A Life Chosen

Rayan knew that tone. He knew what Mathias was considering. “Meeting with the Russians is not a good idea right now,” he said carefully.

There was a long pause. “I’ll be outside in fifteen.”

“Mathias—”

“I liked it better when you kept your mouth shut.”

There was a click, and the call ended. Rayan swore under his breath. He stared at the gun on the counter, his mind whirring. Then he put down the phone and stalked off to the bedroom to change back into his suit.

Chapter Twelve

They drove in silence, the city around them cloaked in darkness. Mathias’s first instinct had been to heed Tony’s advice and refuse Belkov’s invitation. To meet the man on his turf, with things as they were, was brazen, to say the least. Following the incident with Junior, the family was on thin ice with the Russians, and for all he knew, they were walking right into a setup.

Yet his gut told him Belkov knew more than he was letting on, and Mathias was willing to take the risk if it meant getting the answers he needed.Was Piero courting the Russians?They were always greedy for more territory and had never been content under Russo’s thumb. It would explain the information Belkov had on the boss. The shoot-out was a perfect excuse to provoke the Bratva into war and get rid of Mathias in the process. Then Piero could swoop in with a guarantee of spoils and smooth things over whenever it was convenient, finally getting the respect he wanted from the Quintino, right around the time they were discussing succession plans.

The question was, what had Belkov been promised in return for his cooperation? Two soldiers seemed a high price even for him.What is Piero dangling that has proven so enticing?

Mathias had been turning these thoughts over for days, but they’d solidified during the phone call with his second—somewhere between the spike of anger at hearing that Rayan had been followed and the realization that Belkov was forcing his hand. It was better to get it over with before the Bratva boss resorted to other means to get his attention.

Rayan pulled into the parking lot outside Château Suzdal. He took out his gun then checked the chamber, clicked off the safety, and stowed it back in the holster beneath his jacket. He looked at Mathias, his face grim.

“Not a word of this, understood?” Mathias said. He was in enough shit as it was, and Tony had told him, in no uncertain terms, to lay low.

His second nodded, though Mathias could tell there was more he wanted to say. They stepped out of the car and walked around the back of the restaurant to where a tall man with a bloody gash on his forehead was waiting. The man glowered at Rayan, muttering as he led them to the office. Belkov sat behind his desk, with half a dozen Russian soldiers stationed around the room. Rayan’s hand moved toward his jacket.

“I don’t like these odds,” Mathias said.

“Now you want to play fair?” the older man sneered. He barked out something in Russian, and all but one of the men retreated into the hallway, closing the door to the office behind them.

“Igor wants his gun back.”

The remaining Bratva soldier crossed his arms with a frown. Mathias watched as his second reached behind him, pulling what appeared to be Igor’s weapon from the waistband of his slacks. He stepped forward and placed it on the desk.

“Fair enough for you?” Belkov scowled.

Mathias pulled out a seat and sat across from him. “Knowing you, there’s a room of heavily armed gorillas hidden back here. How many M16s did you smuggle in the last shipment? I should know—I collected the tariffs.”

“Let’s not forget it was you who made the first move,” Belkov said, his eyes glinting. “Though from the shit you’re spreading, I must have imagined picking up the bodies of my men.”

Mathias felt a chill of trepidation. This was a bad idea. Belkov had always been difficult in a manageable way. Applying force usually worked until he reverted to his regular antics. But Mathias had never crossed the man. Like him, the Russian mobster had a reputation for exacting retribution in brutal and bloody ways.

“I’m used to being called a liar, so it’s quite funny—don’t you think?—when I’m telling the truth.” Belkov placed three shell casings down on the desk. “Two of these are from your young friend’s gun, which you left behind with his body. Maybe not such good friends after all? My guess is this one,” he said, pushing a single spent shell toward Mathias, “belongs to your dog over there.”

Beside him, he saw Rayan stiffen.

“Now, I’m curious. Why kill one of your own? And why did I find myself burying two good men?”

Mathias picked up the empty casing and rolled it between his fingers—a tiny piece of metal that had come between him and death. He placed it down, leaning back in his seat. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re working with Piero after all.”

It was a gamble, but Mathias kept returning to how the Russian head had known about Russo’s ailing health. Insider information likely gleaned from someone as intent on causing a complete upheaval as Belkov was.

A slow smile spread across Belkov’s face. “What gave you that idea?”

Right on the money.

“That meeting was a setup,” Mathias said. “What do you gain by getting rid of me?”

The smile disappeared. “Not a setup,” Belkov corrected tersely. “But he wanted it to be one. In the end, we couldn’t come to an agreement.” He frowned. “Seems that didn’t matter to Russo’s boy.”

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