Page 7 of A Life Betrayed

Lauralie’s eyes darted nervously to a group of men loudly exiting the diner. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Frances hid a smile. If Lauralie succeeded in gaining Mathias’s confidence, she would finally have an in. And why wouldn’t she? The girl was pretty and eager. If Frances had learned one thing during her time on the job, it was that men like Mathias—men who sought status and power and believed themselves above the law—were easily ensnared by a young woman’s wiles.

Mathias was steps away from the Collections office door and mere moments from freedom when his phone rang. It was Giovanni’s minder, Henri Rossi.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“At the house?” Mathias asked, his eyes narrowing as he saw Sonny making his way across the office toward him.

“No, somewhere different,” Henri said cryptically. “I’ll send through the details.”

Mathias hung up, and Sonny sidled up beside him. “Boss, I’m having problems with the Carlisle contract.”

Knowing Sonny, they weren’t problems, just symptoms of his staggering ineptitude. “And…?”

“His partner croaked, and he’s selling the business. Doesn’t think the money’s going to cover what’s owed.”

“All I’m hearing is that he’s got issues. What’s that got to do with us?”

“I don’t think I can get the money.”

Mathias stared at the man in silence, watching him fidget with discomfort. “The less you think, Sonny, the better,” he said finally. “There are as many ways as there are bones in his body. Pick one.”

“But, boss—”

“Don’t come to me, expecting I’ll do your work for you,” Mathias cut in, fighting a growing irritation. “Carlisle is a cheat. His family has the money. You just need to go out and find it.”

He pulled open the door, strode out onto the landing, and headed for the stairwell. If Sonny had half a brain, he would know that Carlisle’s son was on the city council. That was where Mathias would start—he’d see how quickly the story changed when the councilor’s life got a bit more interesting. But that wasn’t Mathias’s job anymore, and Sonny had been doing this a long time. He could figure it out for his fucking self.

In the parking lot outside the building, Mathias made his way over to the Bentley and got in behind the wheel. He’d sent Jacques out on his own to correct a few problematic contracts. These days, his second doubled as an unofficial captain for the division. Jacques was more useful when he was getting work done rather than trailing Mathias from one tedious family commitment to another.

A second had once been a necessity—an extra set of eyes and a partner in intimidation. Mathias had little use for that now and preferred, instead, to move about on his own. It was less stifling that way and allowed him the freedom to go where he wanted.But having a second had never felt tiresome with Rayan. The man had been quiet, sure, but he’d had a knack for keeping pace with the procession of Mathias’s thoughts, occasionally adding his own eagle-eyed observations to the mix.

As he drove, Mathias mulled over the information Enzo had given him about Lapierre’s replacement. The sheet of paper had included a thumbnail photo of the woman in uniform—stern-faced, her auburn hair pulled back tightly behind her head. Inspector Frances Allen. The single-page bio listed her credentials, her personal background, and the high-profile cases she’d worked on. She’d been transferred from the Organized Crime branch at the RCMP’s Ottawa headquarters and assigned specifically to head the divisional office’s investigation.

Since the election of the current prime minister three years ago, there’d been a noticeable shift in attitude toward the family’s various activities. Anthony Piper had campaigned on a platform of getting tough on crime, and since taking office, he’d pushed to expand the powers of the RCMP and implement harsher sentencing. There’d been talk that, with a government more inclined to crackdowns, Quebec—a province long ignored—would be subject to increased federal scrutiny. That was why they’d brought someone in from the capital—the divisional office in Montreal had become too accustomed to collusion and partial to generous bribes, which was what had kept the family—and Mathias—safe for so long.

After receiving the news from Enzo, Mathias had reached out to his contact at the Quebec office, who’d hinted that Inspector Allen wasn’t well-liked by the local team. That could work in his favor. He’d been unable to gain any insight into the source of the tip-off. His informant had revealed that all identifying details had been scrubbed from the record, which meant someone at the RCMP was keeping that information close to their chest.

More concerning was the fact that the tip-off included details of the short sea shipments he’d been running with Truman. While they didn’t yet have anything solid to tie Mathias to the arrangement, this explained the recent string of seizures. Mathias already had a list in his head of those who were involved in the operation—peripherally or otherwise. He would have to be proactive at stamping out any potential source who might be funneling information to the inspector.

The address Henri had sent him was located in a new building at the center of downtown. Mathias parked the car outside and walked into the swanky office tower, which boasted a roster of high-profile clients on the mezzanine directory. Mathias rode the elevator to the thirty-first floor and stepped out onto a walkway lined with windows. It smelled of fresh paint, and the carpet beneath his feet was pristine.

The walkway split off into two corridors. Mathias turned left and walked to the glass doors of an office suite with a numbered placard affixed to the wall. He pulled open the doors and stepped inside. He spotted Henri first then the boss, who was standing in the corner of the unfurnished office, staring down at the street below.

Mathias moved to the window and saw how high up they were. The cars below looked like toys on a child’s play mat. “Considering a new career?”

Giovanni turned to him with a slow smile. “Take a good look, Beauvais, at the future of Collections.”

Mathias cast his eyes about the empty office. “What am I missing?”

“While I appreciate the hard work, I think we both know you heading the division was temporary. Christ, you’ve complained about it enough. In truth, Collections has been in transition ever since Tony left us, and I think now’s the time to remedy that.”

Mathias couldn’t deny that the division had been a thorn in his side since he’d grudgingly agreed to take the helm, but what exactly had brought this on?

“Russo, God rest him, built this organization up from a gaggle of street criminals. We’ve moved beyond that, and it’s time we looked the part,” Giovanni said, peeling away from the window and stepping past him into the center of the room. “You know as well as I do, the country’s changing. It’s getting harder to keep the law from interfering in our various… endeavors.”

Mathias understood then where the boss was heading. “You want to move things aboveboard.”

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