Page 43 of A Life Betrayed

“Who called you?” he asked, turning to Dubois, who sat beside him in the back seat, tapping away at his phone.

“Said his name was Angelo Caravella, though he didn’t sound Italian.”

Mathias snorted, shaking his head in astonishment.

“Where should I drop you off?” Dubois asked.

“Here,” Mathias said suddenly. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the car and on his feet and disappear into the crowd of commuters converging on the street. The driver pulled the car over to the side of the road. “What do I owe you?”

Dubois shook his head. “Already taken care of.” Then he gave Mathias a serious look. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last of it. Do you know what they’re after?”

My complete and utter destruction.“Allen wants to take me down.”

Dubois made an ominous sound in the back of his throat. “It starts getting tricky when the RCMP get their teeth in.”

At least now Mathias knew without a doubt that Truman was behind it—not just the tip-off but this latest leak to the Feds as well. It was no coincidence that the charges they’d arrested him on were directly related to their joint venture, the particulars of which Truman was very well acquainted with.

“Keep me informed of any developments,” Dubois said.

Mathias pulled open the door and stepped out of the car into the frigid air. It stung his throat and made his eyes water—a welcome jolt of clarity. He stood and lit a cigarette from the confiscated pack the officers had returned to him, the first lungful of nicotine planing down the jitters as he watched Dubois’s car disappear into the distance. His building wasn’t far from here—a few blocks’ walk through the bustling downtown center. He imagined the emptiness awaiting him back at the penthouse, the cold gray walls not unlike the cell he’d just escaped. Mathias longed for a shower. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes, but the thought of the eerie quiet of his home unnerved him. He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a long pull. Then he turned in the opposite direction of his apartment and began to walk.

Chapter Seventeen

Rayan was rinsing dishes in the kitchen when the front door opened and Mathias strode into the apartment. It had been three days. Three days in which his mind had run through every possibility, mining them for their potential likelihood. None of the scenarios he’d envisioned had involved Mathias simply reappearing, clothes disheveled, hair mussed, his face a mask of stone.

He walked past Rayan as if he weren’t there and closed the bedroom door behind him with a thud. Moments later, Rayan heard the hiss of the shower as it turned on. Still, he didn’t move, not quite sure that what he’d witnessed wasn’t an apparition.

Rayan waited until after the shower had been turned off, pacing the hallway to curb his impatience, before finally cracking open the door to the bedroom. He found Mathias freshly changed, his wet hair slicked back, standing by the window, smoking. Rayan hung back. He could feel the swirl of hostility emanating from the man and see it in the stiff angles of his body.

“They let you out,” he said flatly.

Mathias exhaled a thin stream of smoke through his nostrils. “Took them long enough.”

“I didn’t think you’d come here.” Rayan had assumed in the event that Mathias was released, he would immediately launch into an aggressive counteroffensive.

Unless it’s not retaliation he’s preoccupied with…

Rayan’s gaze dropped to the red marks around Mathias’s wrists. He could only imagine what the past few days had been like for him—stripped of his respect and paraded about like a prize. He felt a swell of sympathy for Mathias, who, usually in complete control, had found himself in uncharted territory.

Rayan moved carefully into the room as though approaching a wounded animal: unpredictable and prone to lashing out when cornered. “What do you need?”

Mathias stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill. “I don’t need anything,” he said stiffly and headed for the door.

Rayan stepped into his path, stopping him. “What do you want, then?”

Mathias’s eyes narrowed. He shoved past, but Rayan caught his arm and held firm. Mathias yanked it free. “The fuck does it matter?”

“So I can give it to you,” Rayan murmured. He stepped forward and softly brushed Mathias’s mouth with his own.

This time, Mathias didn’t pull away. Instead, he parted his lips, the subtlest of gestures yet all the intimation Rayan needed to take him into his arms, desperate to blunt the force of his outrage, which threatened to swallow the man whole. They moved fast, Mathias tugging roughly at Rayan’s pants.Here’s something he can control: me.And Rayan would submit himself freely. But Mathias stilled, his grip slackening, arms falling to his sides. They stood, momentarily fixed in place, before Rayan realized it wasn’t control that he wanted.

He raised his hands to the buttons of Mathias’s shirt and undid them one by one. Rayan slipped his thumbs beneath the fabric and slid it off his shoulders. He reached down to unbuckle Mathias’s belt, unfastened his pants, and let them drop to the floor. Rayan shed his remaining clothes and led Mathias to the bed, where he lowered him down on his back. Rayan moved sohe was above the man and trailed his lips across Mathias’s bare skin—stomach, chest, shoulders, neck—feeling the rise and fall of each breath beneath his touch. He stroked the smoothness of Mathias’s cheek, freshly shaven, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave. Finally, Rayan reached his mouth, kissing him gently as he waited for Mathias to work loose. He felt Mathias’s arms loop around his waist, bringing Rayan to him and holding him close. They lay flush, mouths together, the heat transmitting through their skin until Mathias began to stir, as though Rayan had breathed life into him, pulling him back from the depths.

When it came to understanding the inscrutable nature of Mathias’s feelings, Rayan eschewed words and instead relied on the man’s body as an indicator of what was roiling beneath the surface. That could take the form of a fist clenched in anger or—like now—the forceful, purposeful grip of Mathias’s hands as he guided Rayan onto his back beneath him. There was an intentionality to the way Mathias commanded the muscles in his arms and legs to pin Rayan to the mattress, a conscious recentering, his body regaining the clarity his mind had momentarily lost. Finding himself once again.

Mathias held him down by the wrists, and Rayan’s arousal sprang into the gap between their bodies, demanding attention. Lowering his head, Mathias brought his lips to the tip of Rayan’s cock. His tongue teased along the slit, making Rayan groan and push against his iron grip. Where Rayan was eager, Mathias was deliberate. He intended to bring Rayan close to the edge while simultaneously pulling him back. And he was fucking good at it. Mathias took his cock deeper into his mouth, changing the pace, taking his time, sending Rayan spiraling. But before Rayan could lose himself, Mathias released him, hard and taut, from between his lips.

“Please…” Rayan protested weakly.

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