Page 51 of A Life Chosen

So Mathias had pulled a favor with the Narcotics head. Rayan wanted to press further but could tell Tony was being purposely evasive. And knowing the old man, there was something in it for him as well.

Rayan slid the envelope off the desk and tucked it under his arm.

“Tell him this had better work,” Tony said. “And that he owes me. But he knows that already.”

Rayan wondered what the two of them were planning. In the chaos of the move, he’d heard little from Mathias. He’d figured Mathias was still grappling with starting over in a new city, but now he knew better. When had his former capo taken anything lying down?

As Rayan left the office, he glanced at the clock on the wall. If traffic was decent, he could make it to Hamilton before midnight.

Rayan pulled the car into a spot on the darkened street. Directly opposite stood a high-rise boasting fifteen floors of luxury condos. It was newly built, with a sheer glass facade looking out toward the harbor. He’d been here once before, on his first visit to Hamilton. Mathias had come to view one of the top-floor suites and had paid the deposit in cash.

Rayan hadn’t called ahead, not sure what he would do if the man wasn’t home. He punched in the number on the buzzer and waited as the intercom rang, his breath coming out white in the cool evening air. After a series of rings, there was a click then a loud beep as the door to the lobby unlocked. He rode the elevator to the fifteenth floor, where he waited for approval before the doors opened and he was released into a lavish entranceway.

“This is a surprise.” Mathias stood in the doorway to the apartment, sounding neither pleased nor annoyed. He was in a stripped-down version of his everyday uniform, the top button of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up. He looked tired.

Rayan followed him inside, and Mathias returned to the dining table, which was strewn with sectional maps and lists of what appeared to be names and figures. He dropped the envelope from Tony at the end of the table as Mathias picked up his smoking cigarette from the ashtray by his elbow.

“That’d better be what I think it is.”

“Tony said it was from De Luca. And that you owe him.”

Mathias glanced up, studying him for the briefest of moments before returning to the map in his hand. “You his errand boy now?”

Rayan shrugged. “I’m back on probation. I do what I’m told.”

“Nothing new, then.”

“Still no second?” he countered.

Rayan had spoken briefly to Mathias the previous week when he’d called to clarify the terms of an old contract. Apparently, Cesare was long gone, and Mathias had dispatched the man assigned as his second after just a day on the job.

The frown on Mathias’s face deepened. “I’m working on it.”

“Let me come out here for a few weeks, until you find someone.”

“No.”

Rayan quelled a rising frustration. The thought of Mathias operating on his own in an unfamiliar city made his stomach turn. “You can’t keep working like this. It’s dangerous.”

“Your concern is touching,” Mathias muttered, not looking up.

Rayan knew that when he got like this, there was no moving him. It was a bad time, and he was proving an unwelcome distraction. “I’ll be going, then.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Mathias was staring at him, stabbing out his cigarette. “Come here.”

Rayan hesitated, meeting his gaze, the wall of restraint they both kept up—the coldness—slipping so quickly. He walked toward him. Mathias reached out and pulled him close. He smelled the same. He tasted the same.

Mathias pushed Rayan against the table, deepening the kiss. Rayan felt his mind slow, his skin flushing with warmth. The want coursed through him as a hand reached for his zipper.

Rayan awoke in a strange room. Most of Mathias’s possessions were still in boxes. He wondered if the man’s reluctance to move in was part of his resistance to the position, as if unpacking meant an acceptance of his new reality. Mathias was doing what he did best: bending the world to his will. But something was off. Rayan had seen glimpses of self-doubt when Mathias thought he wasn’t watching. And there was something else—a quiet fury simmering constantly below the surface. Mathias had been slighted, exiled to clean up some higher-up’s mess—cheated of his rightful place in Montreal.

Rayan rolled over to find the bed empty and the sheets crumpled. He dressed and made his way to the kitchen, where he flicked on the coffee machine. From the alcove window, he could see into the living room. Mathias was prone on the couch, one arm dangling off the side, touching the rug, where an empty glass lay overturned.

He wondered how late the man had gone to sleep, noticing the open envelope on the coffee table, its contents scattered. The machine clicked over and began to fill. Maybe it was the smell of coffee or the light slipping in through the open blinds, but Mathias began to stir. He raised a hand to his face and groaned.

Rayan took two mugs from the cabinet and waited as the last few drops of coffee splashed into the pot.

“What time is it?” Mathias asked, kneading his eyes with his fingers.

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