Page 64 of A Life Imagined
One of the men tossed his crowbar to the ground.Together they stalked over to Mathias.“Our boss wants to speak with you,” the taller one said.He was lanky, with a prominent scar that cut through his left eyebrow.He had the same accent as Marsela but appeared far less innocent.
“I’ll speak with her here.”
The man shook his head.“You’re coming with us.You and that little receptionist of yours.”He sniggered and peered past Mathias as if expecting Elise to materialize.
Mathias contemplated the cost of the stock he currently had stored at the warehouse.The apes had already done enough damage, and if the situation got messy, the last thing he needed was for it to happen at his place of business.That would prove difficult to explain to the cops.
“Just me, I’m afraid.That’s not a problem, is it?”He pulled back his jacket to reveal the pistol nestled by his hip.
The man scowled and glanced at his partner.He muttered something back, and they entered into a rapid-fire exchange in Albanian.
“I don’t have all fucking day,” Mathias prodded.
The shorter man nodded grudgingly, and together, they walked to the car parked outside.Mathias got into the back seat, and they headed out of town, driving south along the coast.Mathias kept an eye on the road signs, clocking them as far as Capécure before the driver turned inland and began a winding route through the countryside.They must have been near Saint-Léonard when the car made a sudden turnoff.The driver navigated a long, narrow road flanked on both sides by mature sycamores.At the end of the road was a large country villa crawling with ivy.
They slowed to a stop in the circular driveway and got out of the car.The shorter man thumped, heavy-footed, up the steps to unlock the ornate wooden door.He held it open and ushered Mathias inside.The house was tidy but unoccupied.Standing in the entranceway, Mathias could see into the adjoining sitting room, where the furniture was covered with white drop cloths and the chairs had been stacked neatly in one corner.
Scarface stepped forward.“All right, hand it over.”
“I’m not giving you my gun.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
The man advanced, and Mathias waited until he was within arm’s reach before catching him flush on the nose with his fist and sending him sprawling on his ass.His partner rushed him, and Mathias blocked the man with his shoulder and hurled him into the wall.Mathias felt the sharp jolt of Scarface’s knuckles as they made impact with his ribs.He staggered backward, and another blow landed, this time to Mathias’s chin, splitting his lip.
Mathias recovered quickly enough to pull out his gun and smash the barrel into the side of Scarface’s head.The man went down like a stone.His partner tackled Mathias, throwing him to the floor, and the gun lurched from his hand and slid out of reach.They wrestled across the marble tiles, the smaller man managing to land a fist just below Mathias’s eye and a strike to the temple, breaking the skin and sending black spots dancing across his vision.
Mathias heaved him off and pinned the man beneath him.Fueled by bloodlust, Mathias felt his vision narrow, and he slammed his fist over and over again into the man’s face.He felt two hands loop beneath his arms, and then Scarface was pulling him off with a frenzy of curses.Mathias snapped his head back and hit the man’s jaw with a hard crack.Scarface gave a rasping howl and dropped to his knees.
Breathing hard, Mathias spat out a mouthful of blood and scanned the floor for his weapon.Behind him, he heard a distinctive click.
He turned to see Marsela standing in the doorway to the villa.She wore a red dress and heeled boots, a silk scarf tied chicly around her neck.She held his pistol in her hand, the muzzle pointed at his head, and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Now, boys.Must you always resort to violence?”
Laurent had forbidden Rayan from returning to work for the rest of the week.He wanted to be sure there were no lingering effects from the knock Rayan had taken to the head.In the lobby of the police station, and again when he’d called to check up on Rayan, Laurent had apologized for putting him in harm’s way.He’d sounded so despondent over the phone that Rayan had held off on mentioning his idea about raising the remaining project funds independently.He would see what he could do on his own before putting the plan to Asmarina and Laurent, who had enough on their plate already.
“She’s really cut up, Rayan,” Laurent confessed.“She feels responsible for what happened.”
Asmarina had insisted on accompanying him to the station in the back of the police van, pressing her scarf to his forehead until the bleeding stopped.She’d sassed the officers the entire ride, and when she ran out of words in French, she’d continued in Tigrinya.
“Tell her she shouldn’t,” Rayan said.Asmarina had nothing to feel guilty about.“And it’s barely a scratch.I’ve had worse.”
It was true.The bump had disappeared along with the throbbing pain, and he was pretty sure once the stitches were removed, he’d only be left with a faint scar.The injury was nothing compared to the lasting reminder on his shoulder.
Even if he was allowed to work, Rayan wasn’t sure where he would go.Following the riot at the Jungle, they’d temporarily closed the service office, and Laurent had said that Asmarina refused to resume services at the camp until she was sure it was safe.
Which was why Rayan happened to find himself at home in the middle of the day.Mathias had left early that morning to attend an auction in Germany.He’d been reluctant to go, lingering in bed as their errant fondling turned increasingly impassioned.
“For fuck’s sake,” Mathias muttered when he caught sight of the time.He’d attempted to extract himself, but Rayan had proven less willing.“Cocktease.”
He snickered and pushed Rayan away then got up from the bed to shower and dress.When Rayan went downstairs to see him off, he saw Mathias’s gaze flick to his forehead.The bandage was gone, but the stitches were still clearly visible.
“At least they had the sense to keep you away.”
“Not sure what I’m supposed to do,” Rayan grumbled.He wasn’t used to being idle.
Mathias shrugged.“Clean the house, bake a cake.”
