Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Chapter 7
Like a deer in the headlights, DJ froze and stared at Seamus while trying to figure out how to get out of answering his question.
“DJ?” Seamus looked up at him from his crouch on the floor. “I need you to answer me.”
His effort to avoid the problem was as effective as the deer’s. He racked his brain as he tried to come up with a way to say something that would explain his injuries without lying to his husband. He was drawing a blank.
“DJ, please.” Seamus stood up. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I don’t need help.” He had managed mostly on his own since he was a kid. Sure, his sister had been there for some of that time, and she loved him dearly, but she had been so depressed about leaving Claddagh and so fixated on returning that she hadn’t noticed how bad their grandfather’s gambling truly was or its ramifications. She was long gone by the time he died, and DJ was the only person left to clean up his mistakes. “I’m handling it.”
“Clearly, you’re not,” Seamus snapped.
DJ had never seen him angry, and he felt bad for causing it, but he didn’t want to drag Seamus into his mess.
“I’m going to take off.” He turned around to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom. “Thanks for letting me shower here. I won’t need water again tonight.”
“No, please stay.” Seamus clutched his hand. “I'm sorry for saying that. I’m just worried about you.”
Other than his sister, nobody cared about him so deeply and she was too far removed from his daily life to understand his actual struggles. Thankfully, he was turned away from Seamus, arm stretched behind him, so he was able to raise his gaze and blink away the moisture in his eyes before it was noticeable.
“They’re not as serious as they look. He’s not trying to kill me or anything.” Killing DJ would cut off his payment stream. So would injuring him so severely that he couldn’t work. Which was why DJ was confident that the loan shark wouldn’t do either.
“Who is he?” Seamus took hold of both his shoulders and turned him around. “Who is doing this to you?”
He sighed in resignation. There was no way for him to avoid the conversation. “You don’t know him. He doesn't live in Hope.”
“Who doesn’t live in Hope?”
“My grandfather’s creditor.”
“Your grandfather passed when you were eighteen. How does he have a creditor and why is his creditor beating you up?”
“He’s dead, but his debt is still very much alive.” He rubbed his palms over his eyes. “And unfortunately, I'm now responsible for paying it.”
“How are you responsible? Did you guarantee his loan?”
“The types of people he borrowed money from didn’t have such a formalized process, and if they had, I doubt I’d have qualified because I was a kid back then.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” Seamus shook his head. “You’ve been paying off a loan you didn’t take for almost ten years and the lender is assaulting you?”
“Yes,” he said, because Seamus had summed it up quite nicely.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
The stress of the conversation had sucked away whatever energy DJ had left. “I need to sit down.” He walked over to the bed and lowered himself onto the end. “My grandfather had lost so much money in his life that nobody close to legitimate would lend him a cent. This guy’s sketchy as hell, and I’m guessing he only did it because my grandfather agreed to an absurd interest rate.”
“How much money do you need to pay him off? I can help.”
“No way.” DJ shook his head.
“I own this building, DJ. All of it. I don’t pay rent on my apartment or my bar. It’s Hope so nothing’s all that expensive. I’m sure I have enough to help you pay off an old debt.”
“You own the building?” That was new information.
“Yes.”
“The whole building?” The bar and Seamus’s house were in a huge three-plex that took up most of Washington Street. Each portion had a business at basement level, another at street level, and either an office or a residential unit on the top floor.
“Yes. Let me help you.”
“How were you able to buy this whole building?”
“I inherited money from my grandparents. Real estate prices in Hope are a fraction of what they are in Massachusetts, and when I moved here eighteen years ago, they were even lower. I couldn’t believe the deals I could get here so I bought the building and opened the bar. It was a good decision; I’ve done pretty well for myself with the bar and the rental income.” He stepped closer until he stood right in front of DJ. “I can help you. How much do you owe?”
“I don’t know.” DJ’s mind was swimming. “I’m so tired.”