Page 87 of Boost

“So, Colton, did you know Rafael Ortiz was a criminal when you became involved with him?”

Colton angled toward the microphone and gave a clipped reply. “Rafael was released on bail and charges have been dropped. No further questions on that subject.”

I barely had time to take a single breath before the floodgates opened and swallowed us whole. The room erupted in a barrage of questions being asked all at once, and the noise-level rose as reporters started yelling to be heard over-top of each other.

“Colton, have you taken too much of a risk with Ortiz?”

“What other illegal activities is Rafael involved in?”

“Colton, are you encouraging criminal activity?”

“How can Rafael Ortiz be considered a role model for our youth when he killed his own father?”

Thatquestion, spoken from a deep, male voice near the front, stopped me dead in my tracks.

A bolt of heated dread speared through my stomach. I couldn’t have heard right. Against my better judgement, I hastily hushed the room and asked for clarification.

A victorious gleam entered the older man’s eyes. He waited until complete silence fell before repeating the question that ripped the solid ground out from under my black stilettos.

“Explain to me how the morals of this foundation foryouthcondone the employment of a man who murdered his own father,” the reporter enunciated for all to hear.

Gasps and questions ignited throughout the room as the press scrambled to feed on the juicy details this man had intentionally dropped.

“I have no knowledge of Rafael Ortiz being involved in his father’s death,” I replied on autopilot, while my brain worked overtime to process the allegation.

I was blindsided and reeling, and it left me in the position I hated to be; uninformed and scrambling. My gaze found Christian’s across the sea of heads, and his expression said what I couldn’t voice out loud.Oh, fuck!

As if the allegations couldn’t get worse, the man raised his voice. “That’s because he wasn’t Rafael Ortiz as a child; his name wasRafferty Delgado.His juvenile record is rather colorful, but you’d already know that, right?” he added smugly, knowing that at this moment he held all the power.

“This conference is over,” I declared, and started to push my way through the throes of cameras and microphones thrust into my face.

Colton shoved Arlo toward the door as Logan—one of our security guards—propelled me after them.

Having escaped from the melee of reporters, we hurried along the corridor and didn’t stop until Logan had safely deposited the three of us in my office.

My hammering pulse wouldn’t calm as I paced the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roxiee standing at my closed glass door, hand on the handle in silent question to enter. I shook my head. Not yet. I couldn’t talk about this revelation while my head whirled and spun violently.

Rafaelmurderedhis father? Under what circumstances? And the change of name from Rafferty Delgado? None of it made sense.

Roxiee backed down with a subtle nod, but continued to send me concerned glances from her station.

My attention turned to Colton pacing the opposite side of the room with his hands laced on his cap.

“Did you know about this?” I asked.

“No, I didn’t. I knew he had a rough upbringing, butfuck… not that.” His voice broke in disbelief and he looked visibly sickened.

I numbly offered him the decanter of scotch, then turned to Arlo. “Arlo, this is extremely important; do not repeatanythingyou heard in there.”

“I understand, but what does that mean for the program?”

“That’s something Colton and I need to discuss. In the meantime, I need you to head straight home and not engage with the media. No comment. Nada.”

“I get it, Greer.Fuck.”

Roxiee sat alert and ready for orders when I opened my office door. “Get security to escort Arlo to his car. As soon as you can.”

Without a word, she lifted the phone to work her magic. Eamon arrived soon after, giving me just enough time to reiterate to Arlo how important it was to not engage withanyoneuntil I’d talked to both Colton and Rafael.

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