Page 71 of Mafia Captor

Part of me wants Beckett to join the family so he has the full protection of the Bachmans. The other part of me wants to grab him, get on a plane, and disappear in Switzerland to start a new, pure life. I hear they’re a peaceful country.

What I really want is for him to be my baby brother again. Not this big, strong man that sits in front of me, making his own decisions, living his own life, one I have no control over.

My world spins. I feel faint. A cold sweat breaks out over my forehead, making me clammy. Suddenly, this fancy restaurant, the sound of utensils clanking against plates, is too much. I can’t breathe.

I need to take him and get out of here.

I stand, taking my napkin from my lap and putting it on the tabletop. “Beckett, let’s go. We need to talk. I need to get out of here.”

“Where are you going?” Boston asks.

“Back to my place. My apartment. I need a minute. I need space.”

Boston stands, slowly. His dark eyes flash as he narrows them at me. “Space from what, exactly? Me?”

“Everything.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry I can’t explain better what I’m feeling right now. Just respect it. Please.” I turn to Beckett. “Let’s go.”

Beckett looks from me, to Boston, back to me. I give him the big sis look. He gets the message. Beckett clears his throat, rising from his chair. “Sorry, Boss. See you tomorrow?”

“We’ll see,” I say, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair.

Boston’s deep voice rumbles behind me. “Don’t walk out that door, Ashe.”

There’s just enough warning in it to send a shiver down my spine. I grab Beckett’s hand and take off for the door before I turn around and throw myself into Boston’s arms.

I have to sort out my head.

We don’t speak on the cab ride back to my apartment. The place is dark, cold, devoid of my personal possessions. All my furniture is here, though—I had no need for it at the estate.

I find a bottle of red in a kitchen cupboard. It’s up high. Short people problems. To my humiliation, I have to get Beckett to reach it for me. He doesn’t even have to stand on tiptoe as he effortlessly grabs the bottle from the shelf above my head.

I go to open the bottle, but he sees my hands are shaking.

“Here,” he says, taking the wine from me. “Let me.”

I leave him, going to curl up on the sofa. A minute later, he brings me a glass of wine. He sits beside me, taking a sip from his glass. He wrinkles his nose. “Tastes funny.”

It makes me laugh. He’s still my baby brother. Just a giant, grown-up version. With more secrets than I’d care for him to have.

The thought makes me say, “I guess I have to let you grow up, don’t I?”

“It’s too late. It happened whether you wanted it to or not.” He sets his wine on the coffee table.

I hold the stem of my glass, swirling the dark wine against the sides of the glass. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

He rests his forearms on his thighs, leaning closer. “You always saw me as the good boy. I’m not. You were the good one.”

That hurts my heart. “What are you talking about? You were always good.”

“You know that test I got the perfect score on in sixth grade?” he asks.

I get a creepy crawling feeling like spiders walking over my arms. I don’t think I’m going to like this conversation. “Of course. The science one. The one you had to pass to stay on the baseball team.”

“I broke into the school the night before. Found the answer key in the teacher’s desk. Took a picture on my phone, then cheated off it during the test.”

My hand freezes as I go to take a sip, my glass hovering in the air. “You’re joking.”

“No. I’m not. And remember when I didn’t have the money to pay for drivers ed right before you left for college?”

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