Page 50 of A Life Chosen

“But you figured that out already, didn’t you? De Luca says Tony’s been in touch about granting the Reapers port access.” Giovanni raised his eyebrows. “Now, that’s a big gamble.”

“You said it yourself—we need allies,” Mathias said. “I’m not picky. And I need the leverage.”

“Truman is a loaded gun.”

“So is Piero. But Truman hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”

The pickup accelerated, the wings of the motorized gate folding up as the vehicle moved aside to let the horses and their drivers take off down the track.

“Russo built this business by putting his faith in competence,” Mathias continued. “What do you think will happen when Piero clears out those standing in his way? The family will be reduced to a bunch of spectators—men who’ve forgotten how to work, who run divisions like their own personal slush fund. Everything we’ve built will be ripe for the taking. Try to keep the Reapers away then, the Russians, the Batos. Montreal will be carved to pieces.”

“So you figure, hand them the keys before the castle falls?” Giovanni asked sarcastically.

“Who’s talking keys?” Mathias said, his voice hard. “It’s a combination. One Truman is too fucking stupid to crack.” He watched as a driver in red silks steered his horse toward the front of the pack.

“What makes you think he won’t stand back and watch us kill each other?” the councilman asked.

Mathias smirked. “Finesse. Or lack thereof. Montreal has been ours for decades. We have a hand in every pocket of society—judges, politicians, customs, law enforcement. Even if the Reapers took the city, they wouldn’t know what to do with it. The powers that be don’t want to deal with them. They’re sitting on a fortune of untapped product they can’t shift through the Hamilton port. Strangled by red tape.”

“And that’s where you come in.”

“If we’re going to lose territory, we might as well do it on our terms. And get them to pay for it with their backing.”

“You’re willing to trust them?” Giovanni asked.

“It’s not about trust. It’s about what they stand to gain. If it’s big enough, they’ll do what it takes to cash in. Our numbers in Quebec are enough to crush the Reapers if they revolt—less so if we’re divided. But if it comes to that, their numbers would give us a significant advantage.”

Giovanni began to laugh. “He underestimated you.”

“No,” Mathias said grimly. “I’d say he sized me up pretty good when he sent Junior to clip me. But he underestimated what I’d do when that didn’t work out.”

They listened as the race was called. The winning horses flashing across the giant screen above the track. There was a collection of groans and cheers from the crowd—winners and losers alike.

“It’s all well and good in theory, provided I can get Truman to cooperate,” Mathias continued.

“Hence the leverage?”

Mathias nodded.

Giovanni rapped his leather-gloved knuckles against the bench beneath him, thinking it over. “I’ll green-light the access. But I don’t know whether you’ll get any traction with the Reapers. Truman doesn’t like the family.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Arrangements are being made for when the time comes. There’s a place for you in the future of the family, Mathias. Perhaps higher than you expect.” Thecouncilman gave him a knowing look. “But honor your blood. When the dust settles, there may be greater tolerance for difference, provided that difference looks the same.” Giovanni reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square of paper. He held it up, checking the numbers against the names on the screen. “Would you look at that?” he said, retrieving his hat and standing. “I’ve picked a winner.”

Mathias watched as Giovanni made his way slowly down the stands and disappeared behind the betting kiosks, where a line was already forming, a few queuing to collect their winnings, the majority hoping for another chance to offset their losses and win it all back.

Chapter Eighteen

“Take those new wheels of yours for a spin,” Tony said, dropping a sealed white envelope on the desk in front of him. “I need to get this to your boss.”

It was late Friday afternoon, and Rayan had been moments from leaving the office. “He’s not my boss.”

“Tell him that. Seems to think you’re at his beck and call.”

He wasn’t wrong. Rayan scowled. “What is it?”

“Some good news from De Luca. It’ll cheer him up.”

---