He poured them another round, and Mathias fought the urge to groan. Once Belkov got started, there was no stopping him. Drinking was the man’s signature power play. Fail to keep up, and you showed your weakness. The only way to engender respect was to match him.
“I’ve always been curious about your boy here,” Belkov said, rolling his glass between his fingers. “He’s not Italian. What is he, then?”
They all took the next shot, and Rayan placed his glass down on the desk. “Take your pick.”
“He speaks!” Belkov cried, topping up their glasses. “Why work for a group with no blood ties? In the end, they owe you nothing.”
Mathias recalled Tony’s words: “Nadeau might as well be dog meat.”He lifted the glass to his lips,concealing his irritation.
Rayan’s eyes narrowed. The alcohol had relaxed his usual restraint, his emotions finding their way to the surface. He looked at Belkov then threw back the vodka. “Why work for anyone?”
This made the Russian laugh.
Rayan’s movements began to slow. It was clear he was quickly becoming quite drunk. Belkov was already pouring the next shot, filling the glasses so that they overflowed, puddling onto the desk. Mathias began to feel the hint of an encroaching buzz. His second, on the other hand, was attempting to lift his glass without spilling.
“He’s loyal like a dog,” Belkov said to Mathias as he studied Rayan. “Hard to find loyalty like that in our line of work, Beauvais. You can try beating it into them, but there’s always that sliver of defiance.”
Mathias stared at Belkov, saying nothing. He knew what he had in Rayan—knew what it was to have complete confidence that his back was covered. But it also ate at him to be the object of that kind of loyalty. There was no line Rayan would not cross for him.
“We’re done,” Mathias announced after knocking back the round, knowing if he didn’t intervene, he would be picking his second off the floor. “I’m not destroying my liver with your Slavic turpentine.”
Rayan downed his glass and held the back of his hand to his mouth. For the briefest of moments, Mathias thought he would heave. The Russian mobster threw his shot back with a hiss then launched the empty glass at the wall behind them, where it shattered. They stood, and Belkov leaned forward, holding out a hand.
“Think about it,” he said as Mathias took it, sealing an unspoken detente.
He followed his second out of Belkov’s office, passing a cluster of armed Russian soldiers smoking in the hallway. So he hadn’t been far off. They walked to the car, the moon illuminating the darkened parking lot, an icy wind slicing against his cheeks. Rayan pulled the keys from his pocket and handed them to Mathias, his movements clumsy. He made it to the car, leaning against the passenger door, before promptly doubling over and emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground. Mathias waited until he was once again upright, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.
“Sorry,” Rayan muttered.
“Get in.”
As they sped along the highway back toward the city, Mathias’s mind trawled the conversation, catching on hooks.Did Piero go to such extremes because he was sure he wouldn’t be tapped for succession?The boss had hinted as much. In the seat beside him, Rayan sat bolt upright.
“Not in my fucking car,” Mathias warned, swerving across two lanes and pulling onto the shoulder.
Rayan opened the door and vomited, his shoulders heaving. When he was done, he fell back into his seat, an arm reaching out to close the door with a thump.
Mathias leaned over and pulled on Rayan’s seatbelt. “You’re an idiot.”
“Oui, capo.”
Mathias smirked and continued driving.
“Think he’s lying?” Rayan asked after a moment. “Seemed elaborate, especially for Belkov.”
Mathias was accustomed to his second’s silence, which gave the impression he observed interactions with a cursory understanding. With the booze stripping away Rayan’s usual reticence, it was clear he didn’t miss a thing.
Mathias sighed. “If it was anyone else, maybe. But Piero? He’s reckless enough to consider it.” He took the next exit and wound through the streets of Villeray.
“Why are we covering for him? You almost got clipped.”
“You still don’t know how this works?”
“The family considers some people more valuable than others,” Rayan said, his voice hard. “I know how it works.”
The lights changed up ahead, and Mathias slowed the car to a stop at the deserted intersection.
“If I had a dollar for every time one of those old bastards looked at me like I’d crawled out of the sewer…” his second continued, lips curling. “And you. I could kill them for how they’ve treated you.”