Page 69 of A Life Imagined
Rayan swore under his breath and tossed Mathias’s gun into the glove compartment.He didn’t know enough about the situation to trust venturing back to Calais.And then there was the minor issue of their unexpected companion.
They had to get moving.He needed to put some distance between them and the lackeys back at the villa.Rayan started the engine and pulled the car out onto the road.Beside him, Mathias wound down the window and leaned against the headrest, eyes half closed as the wind whipped his hair.
“Who is she?”Rayan asked quietly in French.
Mathias tilted his head to look at him.“It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
“Marsela Asllani.She’s with the Albanians.They were behind the shipment.”
“Of clay sculptures?”
“Right.I told you about that.”
Rayan gritted his teeth.“I think you left out a couple details.”
“Turn around,” Marsela demanded from the back seat, no longer finding the situation amusing.“Take me back right now.You have no idea who you’re dealing with—”
“Shut it,” Rayan snapped.
“The smashed figures.They were filled with powder,” Mathias continued, unfazed.
“And the Albanians came to get it back?”
“They tried.”
“What did you do with the drugs?”
Mathias gave him a wide grin.“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Rayan’s jaw clenched, and he fixed his eyes on the road.High, but still cagey.
He drove in the opposite direction of Calais and found a run-down motel on the outskirts of Saint-Léonard.It was the best Rayan could come up with.Whatever Mathias had planned would be useless if he wasn’t sober enough to execute it.All they could do in the meantime was hole up and wait.
He left Mathias in the car and went to the front desk.The only room available was a family suite.Not that it mattered.They weren’t here on vacation.
Fortunately, Marsela didn’t make too much of a fuss when he and Mathias escorted her from the car.Rayan found a tow rope in the trunk and restrained the woman’s wrists to the headboard in one of the bedrooms.He used the abandoned scarf to gag her, finally silencing the tirade of multilingual curse words she’d spewed at them since being wrestled from the back seat.Once she was subdued, Rayan returned to the other room to figure out what to do with Mathias.
He found the man sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the unlit cigarette in his hand as though contemplating its existence.Mathias had a split lip, and the right side of his face was speckled with blood, yet he was unnervingly serene, like someone had cleaved away the layers of his exterior.It was more than a little disconcerting.Rayan was used to what his brother had been like—antsy, hopped-up.Whatever Mathias was on seemed to have rendered him a placid and more obliging version of himself.Rayan wrung out a washcloth in the bathroom sink and sat down beside him on the bed, raising the cloth to the cut on Mathias’s temple.He frowned as he inspected the bluish marks along his jawline.
“Don’t worry—it’ll heal,” Mathias said.“I know you like me pretty.”
“What I like has less to do with your face.”
Mathias chuckled.“Cute.”
“So, this was the plan?Show up and get the shit kicked out of you?”
“I had something a little different in mind.Wasn’t counting on the zip ties.”
“The what?Jesus…” Rayan tried to keep his voice even.“What are we going to do with her?”
Mathias opted against lighting the cigarette and tucked it into his breast pocket.“I’ve got it all worked out.Just give me a minute to clear my head.”
Rayan pressed the cloth against Mathias’s swollen cheek, tempering the rising guilt.He still couldn’t see the man hurt without feeling like a failure.“Damn it, Mathias.Do you realize how reckless this is?”
The smoothness left Mathias’s face.“Do you think I’m afraid of these people—of what they’ll do to me?I’ve played worse odds in my time.”
