Page 76 of A Life Imagined
Burim glared at him.“Do you know what happens when someone lays a hand on what’s mine?”
“Please, Burim, it’s the truth!”Marsela cried.
“Enough,” Mathias barked, resting the heel of his hand on the handle of his gun.“I want my fucking money, or we’re done here.”
The ringing of a phone cut through the tense silence that followed.The melody, grating and insistent, filled the still night air.Burim reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his eyes widening when he looked down at the screen.He answered in a hushed murmur, suddenly reverent.
The call went on for some time, with Burim saying little and nodding as he was given what appeared to be a harshly worded dressing down.
“Mathias…” Rayan murmured beside him.His eyes were trained on the wall of Albanians as a hand rose to his holster.
Mathias knew what Rayan was thinking.If they were going to act, it would have to be now, unless they wanted to give this Osmani bastard a chance to follow through on his threat.But before they could make a move, Burim hung up and looked over at Mathias with unconcealed disbelief.
Then he gestured to one of his men.“Give him the money.”
His subordinate walked over the trunk of the first car and pulled out a large black duffel bag.
“Seems you have friends in high places,” Burim said as the Albanian soldier dropped the bag at Mathias’s feet.“You should have told me you knew Leo Campini.”
Mathias scanned his knowledge of Italian family politics.As far as he was aware, Leonardo Campini was one of the ’Ndrangheta’s top brass.The Calabrian group wasn’t on the best of terms with the Sicilians—which included their North American offshoots.How Campini had come to know about Mathias and his business, he had no idea.Mathias certainly wasn’t acquainted with him personally.Even during his time with the family, he’d never had much to do with the ’Ndrangheta.
Mathias said none of this to Burim.He wasn’t about to let an opportunity to one-up the Albanian slip through his fingers.Rayan retrieved the bag, and Mathias watched as he zipped it open to reveal layered stacks of bound five-hundred-euro notes.
Rayan flicked through the stacks then closed the bag and gave Mathias a quick nod.“It’s all there.”
It’d better be.
“Had I known…” Burim’s tone had turned noticeably more cordial.“I wouldn’t have let the woman near your business.And we wouldn’t have shown you such disrespect.For that, I offer my apologies.We have a longstanding arrangement with the ’Ndrangheta, one I’m in no hurry to lose.We stay clear of the Sicilians to avoid stirring up trouble—something you both seem to do well enough on your own.That being said…” His eyes darkened, and he gestured down at the bag of cash.“I don’t take kindly to people stealing from me.We had a deal.I want my drugs back.”
Mathias withdrew a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket.“Everything’s here.A friend is holding it for safekeeping.I’ll call ahead and let him know to expect you.”
Burim’s subordinate moved to take the slip of paper and handed it to his boss, who peered at the address contained within.“And if we show up and it’s miraculously gone?”
“I’m a man of my word,” Mathias said.“It’ll be there.”
Burim muttered something unintelligible.
“Or by all means, call Campini back,” Mathias goaded him.
Burim pocketed the piece of paper and pointed to Marsela.“You, get in the car.”
Rayan removed the restraints from Marsela’s wrists, and she took a moment to compose herself, righting the hem of her dress and fluffing her hair.Then she strode over to the car Burim had emerged from.One of the Albanian soldiers opened the rear door and placed a hand on her arm to guide her inside, but she slapped it away.
Burim stood observing the interaction, his expression unreadable.When Marsela was safely stowed in the back seat, he turned to Mathias.“A man of your word, was it?”
“That’s right.I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.You have my sympathy.”
Burim’s lip curled viciously.“Don’t let me catch you near her again.”
“Interfere with my business again, and this”—Mathias kicked the bag at his feet—“is just the beginning.”
Mathias and Rayan watched the Albanians pile back into their cars.They stood in silence until the taillights of the two Land Rovers had disappeared into the distance.
“You had to try it on with his wife,” Rayan muttered.
Mathias smirked.“Marsela couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
Rayan rubbed the bridge of his nose.“What the fuck just happened?”
