Page 57 of A Life Betrayed

Frances gritted her teeth. There was the matter of whom she had to thank for standing here, having moments ago assumed the worst. “Fine,” she said, the word forced from her mouth.

“Your word,” Rayan pressed.

“I’ll pull the investigation off Mathias—but just this once. If he comes up again, if he finds himself drawn into any other case—and believe me, with what I know about him, he will—all bets are off.”

“I’ll take it.” Rayan glanced back again at the warehouse.

She frowned. “Why are you doing this?”

“I owe him.”

“For getting you out?”

Rayan stared at her, his eyes unreadable.

So he’d left the family and attempted to start over.And if that were the case, there was no way Rayan had accomplished that on his own. Now she knew who’d helped him, despite that fact going against everything she’d assumed about Mathias.

“While we’re being honest,” Rayan said, “what’s happening with my brother’s investigation?”

Frances thought about lying, about putting the screws to the master manipulator. Then she remembered the look on Rayan’s face when she’d shown him that grisly photo, the pain so raw she’d felt a sting of shame. “That was a tactic to get you to talk,” she admitted. “It’s a cold case. We’re not reopening it.”

“Some tactic,” Rayan muttered, his brown eyes flashing. He turned without another word and headed back the way they’d come.

“Rayan,” Frances called out stupidly, struck by a sudden concern for him that leapt in her chest.

But he didn’t look back. She was already forgotten.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Mathias watched Rayan disappear down the corridor and toward the back of the warehouse. If Truman suspected anything, he didn’t show it. Mathias reached beneath his jacket, fingers brushing his gun, and pulled out his cigarettes. He placed one between his lips, flicked his lighter, and held it to the tip then pocketed everything before taking a long drag.

“He’s going to take her with him,” Mathias announced. “I don’t need pig blood on my hands—not now.”

Truman’s lackey glanced in the direction of the corridor then turned to his boss. “Should I—”

Truman raised a hand, silencing him. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve.”

“I haven’t lost shit,” Mathias said. “But unlike you, I’m not an idiot. When the heat’s on, it’s better not to light a match.”

“Or what?” Truman baited. “They’ll lock you up? The mighty Mathias Beauvais, afraid of prison. That’s where they’ll send us anyway if we sit on our hands.”

“I’m tired of your shit, Truman.” Mathias clenched the cigarette between his fingers as he stemmed the roiling in his gut. “I was tired of it years ago—hell, I was tired of it the minute I met you. It was only a matter of time before you did something to fuck us both over. And now you’re going to knock off a federal cop?”

“Ah, come on,” Truman protested. “I was led to believe you, of all people, weren’t afraid to do what it takes.”

It was as though they’d returned to that fateful first meeting, the man having learned nothing. There was an art to this, whether one was conducting business or bloodshed. Both relied on a certain finesse—the ability to approach the situation with a level head, anticipate the potential complications, and act accordingly. Shooting first and thinking later almost always led to far greater trouble, a lesson Truman had still not grasped. The sudden disappearance of a federal inspector might well compel the government to open the lid on the provincial Pandora’s box that was Quebec and flush them all out for good.

“And this coming from the man conspiring with the Feds. The first hint of trouble, and you rolled, belly-up,” Mathias shot back.

“I told you I didn’t give them nothing,” Truman spat.

“You handed them my name and the details of our arrangement wrapped up in a nice little bow.”

Truman frowned, his pale eyes narrowing. “They had your name before they came to me. They were already looking into you.”

“Because your tip-off launched the whole fucking investigation,” Mathias growled, tossing his smoking cigarette at Truman’s feet. “All hush-hush, too, getting them to strike your name from the record.”

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