Page 58 of A Life Betrayed

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Truman exclaimed.

Mathias felt a sliver of reservation at the baffled expression on Truman’s face. It was a performance, more of the man’s bullshit, but for a moment, it looked pretty fucking convincing. “I had you followed—I know you’ve been meeting with her,” Mathias snapped. “You think it’s a coincidence they discovered the link to the holding company right after you and Allen were seen together?”

“Why would I make a tip-off to the Feds?” Truman thundered, his neck flaring red. “I’d be shooting myself in the foot. I’m just as tied to the shipments as you are.”

“They already had you against the wall. You’re just trading one felony for another. This way, you can pass the buck, and who better to pass it to than me?”

“Look…” Truman rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, lowering his voice. “The company—I’ll admit, that was me. I have a fucking trial date. I was desperate. But I swear to God—”

“You’ve been desperate for a while now, Truman. The mess with Border Services—that’s a year in the making. You expect me to believe when you got word of it brewing, you didn’t send a friendly message up the chain to try and see what you could get out of? The trouble with the Feds is that one bit of information is never enough—they’ll always want more. And then you end up where you are now, spilling your fucking guts. Once a rat…”

He didn’t need to finish. A silence fell over the warehouse. Above them, the overhead lights flickered.

“So, what are we starting, Mathias?” Truman said, a hard glint in his eye. “We gonna have ourselves a little shoot-out? As you can see, you’re a man down.” Beside him, Truman’s lackey gave a slow grin and shoved his meaty hands beneath his armpits.

“You forget where you are,” Mathias said. “This is my city. Here, I’m never outnumbered.” He saw the Reaper’s face slacken as he processed the fact that he was now in enemy territory. “And we aren’t starting shit.” Mathias slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I’m finishing it. This alliance was built on trust, and you sold me out. The family is done with you, Truman. We’re pulling port access and wiping our hands of the shipments. See how far you get when the door closes in your face. You think after what you tried to pull tonight, Allen’s going to come back for more? You blew your chance at a plea, and ina month, whatever’s left of you will be finished off in court—I won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You’re making a mistake, Beauvais,” Truman warned.

“My only mistake was not pulling the plug earlier,” Mathias said. “Fortunately, that oversight has now been rectified.”

“There’s more hands on this than you think,” Truman said viciously, spit forming at the corners of his mouth. “Someone else is looking to bring us down.”

There remained an inkling of a feeling—something that didn’t quite add up. Yet Truman had already admitted to lying, and what was this but more smokescreen?

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Mathias sneered. “How is it that you have a trial date, but I’m the one who found myself in the hole? I won’t stand around while you play me, Truman. I’m taking the girl, and I’m leaving. You’re not my problem anymore.”

As Mathias walked to the warehouse doors, he slipped a hand beneath his jacket to grip the handle of his gun, readying himself for the man’s reprisal. But Truman remained quiet, letting him leave.

No sooner had Rayan removed the metal bar from the door than the lackey who’d been in the room with Allen burst from it, blocking his path.

“There you are,” the man said, flushed and furious, his hoarse voice a lingering reminder of Rayan’s blow to the throat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Who’s asking?” Rayan hadn’t planned on striking him, but something about the way he’d gripped Allen’s wrist and the fear in her eyes had pulled him back to another time, sending a surge of violence through him.

“You little shit!”

He saw the man coming. The old Rayan would have ducked and smashed a fist beneath his jaw. But in the time it took Rayan to grapple with the resistance that thought brought on, a set of knuckles made impact with his cheek, and he hit the ground, dazed. His muscle memory had deserted him, his conscience too fractured to fight back.

He felt the metal barrel of the pistol dig into his lower back. Rayan had only to reach for it, and the man would be finished. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get his fingers to move.

“Finally figured out where you belong,” the man jeered, standing over him. “Down on your ass—”

There was an audible crack as Mathias struck the Reaper clean on the side of the head, teeth bared, his face twisted in fury. Rayan hadn’t witnessed his former capo’s particular shade of brutality in a while, and the sight sent ice down his spine.

The man tottered, almost able to recover, but Mathias was faster, a fist to the guts sending him crashing against the warehouse wall. “We’re done here,” Mathias instructed Truman’s lackey. “Take it up with your boss inside.”

The man glowered, managing to heave himself up and stagger to the front of the building. Rayan got to his feet as Mathias approached.

“You let that ape lay hands on you,” Mathias snarled. He reached out to grip Rayan’s chin and turned his head to inspect the bruise throbbing along his cheek. He clicked his tongue. “If I taught you one thing”—his voice was lower now, his grip softening, gray eyes revealing a flicker of concern—“it was how to defend yourself.” Mathias dropped his hand. “Come on.” They walked back to the car, and Mathias got in behind the wheel, pulled out of the alley, and sped down the road. “Of all the fucking things,” he muttered. “I knew you shouldn’t have come.”

He was angry, not in the scornful way he’d been in those early days when Rayan had fucked up on a job but in a way that made him grip the steering wheel with both hands. Rayan stared at those hands. He could see the redness along the knuckles even in the low light. His fault. Mathias was right—he shouldn’t have come. He was no longer able to protect himself, let alone Mathias.

“What happened in there?” he asked, if only to distract them from his failure.

“It’s done,” Mathias said curtly. “Truman and the family are done.”

Rayan attempted to read his impossible expression.

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