Page 60 of A Life Chosen

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Once the shipments had taken off and Truman was making more money in a month than he had in the past year, Mathias found himself invited into the Hamilton circuit and became a regular attendee at the man’s late-night gatherings. While Gurin could barely believe the about-face, Mathias found the constant interactions tedious. William Truman was crude, quick to offend, and a raging drunk yet, depending on how much liquor he had in him, was also proving to be increasingly malleable and almost eager to please.

The more reliant Truman became on the family’s good favor, the more influence Mathias discovered he had, which was something he hadn’t anticipated. He felt the tables beginning to turn. He’d only wanted to reassert the family’s position in Hamilton, but with Truman’s burgeoning alliance, it was possible Mathias could stake an even bigger claim on the region.

After reestablishing the local office, he’d recruited a handful of men more competent than the dregs Moretti had left behind. They’d proven efficient at maintaining the family’s growing territory, turnover eclipsing anything that had come out of the satellite office in decades.

“So, he’s on the ground, and two of my guys are just taking to him.” They were at the Iguana, and Truman was regaling him with war stories, one of his regular girls perched on his lap as he pawed at her large breasts. “But his fucking mouth is shut. He’s a steel trap. Never seen it get so bloody.” He trailed his hand down the woman’s stomach and slipped it absently between her legs. Mathias recognized his old watch prominently adorning the man’s left wrist.

“Nothing compared to Russo’s work.” Truman gave a low whistle. “I was there in the nineties, and I saw what he did during the biker war. When that man dies, he’ll go into the fucking flames.”

“And you?” Mathias raised an eyebrow. “Waiting at the pearly gates?”

Truman chuckled. “Hey, I’m no saint, but there’s bad, and then there’s bad.”

Mathias thought of Dante, the Nine Circles. It was almost comical that they were sitting here, two of the country’s most notorious criminals, comparing evils.

“While Russo’s alive, there’s no getting around your Quebec exile,” Mathias said. “But things are changing. One of these days, they’ll be different. I’d like to think we both stand to gain, if I can rely on the Reapers’ backing.”

Truman pushed the woman off his lap. “Get us some more drinks—there’s a good girl,” he said, palming her ass as she walked away. He leaned forward, face serious. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I may require your assistance,” Mathias said deliberately. “Sooner rather than later.”

Truman’s mouth pulled into a slow grin. “If the price is right, you can count on it.”

“It will be,” Mathias said, downing the rest of his glass.

On his recent visit to Montreal, he’d met with De Luca about sweetening the Reapers’ cut in exchange for Truman’s help. Giovanni had also agreed to extend their territory up to the provincial border. But that particular carrot, he would save for a job well done. No need for Truman to get ahead of himself.

“Gurin says you’re dropping protection for North End.”

Truman shrugged. “You can have it. We’re tired of dealing with the Mexicans. It was fun when we took it off Moretti, but it’s too much work.”

Mathias had become familiar with the man’s aversion to hard work. It was an easy virtue to exploit.

The woman reappeared, placing two fresh drinks down before them.

“Come here, honey,” the Reapers’ boss said, yanking her back to the table. “I didn’t say thank you.” He leaned forward and spat in the woman’s open mouth. She gave him an indulgent smile before continuing on her way.

The disgust must have shown on Mathias’s face, because Truman looked at him with a sneer. “Got a wife at home, Beauvais?” He laughed. “On your best behavior?”

“Where I’m from, that means something else entirely,” he said carefully.

Truman chuckled. “Girls love that shit. The worse you treat them, the more they like it.”

Mathias took a cursory pull from his drink, cheap bourbon and a grueling day contributing to the piercing headache behind his eyes.

“Speaking of, I have a gift for you,” Truman announced. Mathias’s stomach turned. He could see where this was heading. “In honor of our joint venture, bygones and all that. Fresh off the boat, first-class Euro pussy.”

Truman knew only one way to conduct business—in seedy clubs, with bottomless liquor, the same girls offered up again and again. Lap dances, blowjobs, upstairs for full service. The man had a harem he took with him everywhere, offloading women onto his guests like party favors.

“One of our best girls—I don’t let just anyone fuck her,” he continued. “Consider it good faith, for our ongoing partnership.”

What the fuck is it with this town and good faith?The ache in his head intensified, pounding at his temples. It was past midnight, he had business to attend in the morning, and here he was, forced into patronizing one of Truman’s handpicked hookers.

But there was little choice in the matter. To refuse the man’s gift would be a slap in the face and would set back the progress he’d made. And Mathias needed this to work. They were relying on the Reapers’ muscle. Besides, he was surrounded by not just Truman’s band of thugs but his own men as well. His eyes flicked to where Jacques sat at the bar, surveying the club’s goings-on with mild curiosity. As always, Mathias had to ensure that his authority both as a man and as the family’s regional head remained intact.

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