Page 70 of Mafia Captor

Nothing he’s saying makes sense. What does mono have to do with anything?

“I could never forget that.”

“Yeah,” he continues. “So apparently, there was a clause in your scholarship. You couldn’t miss more than five days in a semester in order to keep the scholarship for the following school year.”

“But my absences were excused,” I say. “I made up all the work.”

He shakes his head. “I got Mom to call the school. She was pretty with it at the time. I was proud of her. She pushed back, she really tried. There were no exceptions. Butt in the chair or you lose the funding.”

My tuition and housing were always paid for. Every single semester. I never even thought about the payments after I won that scholarship. I just showed up to class. It never even crossed my mind there was an issue.

An icy feeling creeps up my spine. “What did you do?”

“Mom’s credit was shot. Dad was nowhere to be found. I was a freshman in high school, it’s not like I could go to a bank or apply for a student loan.” Finally, his eyes meet mine. “I did what I had to do. I found a guy.”

I don’t have to ask what kind of guy. I know it by the look on his face. We didn’t exactly live in the nicest part of town. Poverty does things to people, makes them desperate.

There were plenty of shady characters where we lived. “You went to a loan shark.”

“I went to a guy.” His jaw locks, that little muscle in the corner twitching. He won’t say more. “And my college applications? The truth is, I didn’t want to go to college, not at all. But I couldn’t have gone anyway. I had to start working full-time when I graduated high school. The deal was that the first payment was due the month after I graduated. I needed to make payments.”

“That was years ago. You’re still paying?”

He nods. “The interest ballooned. I’ve been doing my best, taking overtime, jobs on the side, but they wanted more than I had.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” I ask.

He looks back down at the table. “I didn’t want to come clean. Didn’t want you to worry. You’ve worried over me enough.”

“But Beckett, I could have helped, I could have done something—”

“There’s more.”

My heart sinks.

“The white SUV?” he continues. “They were looking for me. Found out who you were working for at Enterprises. Waited for you at the gates of the Village. Followed you. They were going to get to you, to punish me for my missed payments. I’m so sorry—I had no idea it had gone that far, that they would come for you. I assumed they’d come for me.”

My heart leaps to my throat. “They were going to hurt you?”

“They were going to hurtyou. I just didn’t know. As soon as I heard about the SUV and put two and two together, I went straight to Boss.”

Boston reaches across the table to put his hand over mine. “I took care of it. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The sick feeling ebbs away, replaced by an angry heat. I pull my hand away, looking from Beckett to Boston. “And you both kept this away from me.”

They sit in silence.

Beckett, I get. But Boston? Why would he have secrets with my brother? If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, shouldn’t we tell one another everything?

I’ve been protecting my brother his whole life. He’s been hiding things, trying to protect me as well. I can’t believe he was in danger. Come for me? Go ahead. I’ve got the entire Bachman family behind me. You’re going to get your ass kicked.

But what if they had come after him? He could have been hurt, or killed.

I stare at his beautiful face, remembering that moment the nurse laid his tiny, swaddled body in my little arms.

His soft baby smell. He was just a little drop of heaven, fallen from the sky. Pure and sweet.

Did I do this? Is it my fault he got in with the wrong crowd? I’ve always admired the Bachman family, their crimes seem justified. I know Boston or any other Bachman would never prey on the weak. But Boston’s a debt collector. Is he so different than the men who targeted my brother?

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