Page 36 of A Life Chosen

“I know,” Mathias said quietly, turning and heading for the door.

As he pulled the car into the garage beneath his building, his phone rang from where it lay in the passenger seat. He stared at it for a moment before picking up.

“Mathias,” Giovanni said. It was clear from his tone that this was not good news.

Mathias leaned back against the headrest, his whole body regretting having left Rayan’s apartment. If he’d simply climbed into bed with the man, he would not be on this call—a call with the promise to detonate everything he’d worked toward.

“Join me for a drink.”

Mathias was familiar with Hochelaga yet had never heard of Deux dés Noirs. The dank sports bar boasting wall-to-wall zebra-print carpet was the kind of place hewould go to find someone who owed him money, not where he’d choose to have a drink.

Giovanni sat in the far corner by the pool tables, his Brioni suit looking out of place among the hockey jerseys and baseball caps. The roar from the flat screen behind the bar was enough to ensure that their conversation didn’t travel. On the table sat two drinks, one untouched. The councilman had ordered for him.

“Piero approached the Russians, wanted to make a deal,” Mathias said after greeting him, scanning the room out of habit. Junior had really done a number on him.

Giovanni’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a pretty hefty accusation.”

“Belkov’s been getting information from someone with inside knowledge of the boss’s condition. I know it’s him.”

“That Russian bastard would say anything to pit us against each other,” the councilman scoffed. “Wait for the family to eat itself from the inside and feast on the scraps.”

“Maybe that’s what Piero wants,” Mathias snapped.

Giovanni shook his head. “Look, I would be lying if I said it didn’t seem plausible. Junior, the Russians threatening war… The man’s slippery, I’ll give you that. Maybe he’s got his hands all over this, but we haven’t seen so much as a finger. It’s still your word against his.”

Mathias stilled. He’d been about to divulge the rest of his conversation with Belkov—the list, Piero’s willingness to hand out territory like it was candy—but something stopped him.

“It’s inconvenient,” the old man continued with a sigh, “that you’ve been caught up in all this.”

“Inconvenient?” Mathias repeated, his face darkening. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the splatter of the kid’s blood across his cheek.

Giovanni paused, tapping a finger against the rim of his glass. “Thought I’d give you fair warning so you know what to expect. There’s talk of transferring you out of the city.”

Mathias froze.

“Not sure if you know Marco Moretti. Oversees family dealings in Hamilton. He’s made a right mess of things out there, and they’re wanting someone to come in and clean it up.”

“Giovanni,” Mathias warned.

“I know. But Paterlini’s leaning hard on this, what with his son dead and all. Having you around is a painful reminder, and with it happening on yourwatch—”

“If any other captain had walked away from a hit…” Mathias growled. He didn’t need to finish. The precedent was clear: he was entitled to his reprisal. “Yet here I am, cowed by Paterlini’s hurt feelings?”

“He lost a son.”

“A son sent to whack me, if you remember.” Mathias pushed away his untouched drink, aware of the slight.

“That’s not the story we’ve been telling.”

“Who else? Who’s gunning for this?” he demanded.

Giovanni exhaled loudly, his reluctance telling Mathias everything he needed to know.

“So if Piero can’t kill me, he’ll make sure I’m pushed out?” Mathias continued.

Giovanni sucked his teeth. “My hands are tied, here. It comes direct from the boss. There’s a promotion in it,vangelista. You’ll be heading a city division.”

“You know as well as I do Hamilton is Reapers territory. And the scrap that we do hold, we fight for tooth and nail with Truman.”

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