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Chapter Eleven

One week later…

E verything felt flat.

Thanksgiving had come and gone. They'd celebrated, including the FBI and bodyguards, but Marshal had been MIA on Thursday. The man had shown up the next day, but was still avoiding him.

Ever since that kiss, Marshal had been avoiding him.

When Ryker happened to come upon Marshal by accident, the man would give him the cold shoulder.

He was tired of the whiplash and the dodging. There was nothing on earth that could make him believe that Marshal had not been just as affected as him by that kiss.

What the hell was standing in their way?

He wanted answers.

Either they were going to become something or they weren't, but he wanted a real honest-to-God conversation to Marshal's face, not presented with his fucking back.

Yet every time he tried to pin Marshal down to talk, his questions were ignored.

"I can't talk right now ," was Marshal's standard mantra.

Finally, Ryker had had enough.

He gave up.

Marshal didn't want him.

And if that was the way the man wanted it, then so be it.

For the past day or so, he'd basically ignored Marshal and started avoiding him when they happened to meet.

Marshal seemed to notice and had grown surly.

So what? He didn't have to be polite. They were just employer and employee at this point.

Ryker set aside Marshal's bad behavior. He had a business to run and no time for childishness or men who didn't know what the hell they wanted.

Rounding the corner, Ryker heard voices near the front door.

"Listen, you're on the list, but he is not," Tanner's voice informed someone at the front door.

Stepping into the entryway, Ryker took in the scene of Cohen trying to get in and Tanner stretching out an arm to block him.

"Ryker!" Cohen shouted, glaring up at Tanner, whose bulk was preventing him from entering.

Ryker stepped around Tanner and elbowed him out of the way.

Not that he couldn't have done that with the size difference, but Tanner had to take a step backward in order to avoid the elbow to his stomach.

Next to Cohen stood a beautiful boy. He couldn't have been more than eighteen, if that. Curly dark hair cascaded around his head and that combined with a slim physique and delicate face put the boy in the beautiful category. The only blemish on the boy was the fact that his eyes were covered by dark sunglasses. Ryker searched and found what he suspected.

Behind the glasses lurked bruises and Ryker's heart squeezed.

On occasion, Light Bright facilities rescued women, men, and children from abusive situations and he only knew this because before opening the place, he, Syn, and Cohen had discussed the next steps if abuse victims ever showed up.

Well, it looked like that day was today.

"It's okay, Tanner, I'll take responsibility," Ryker said quietly, slowly moving closer. He was careful to make no sudden moves.

The boy looked ready to bolt.

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow that," Tanner said and pulled his cell phone. "Marshal, we have a situation at the front door."

Ryker rolled his eyes at Cohen and the boy.

"And you are?" He smiled, making sure his voice was soft, but even so, the boy took a step backward.

"This is Aspen," Cohen said and wrapped a hand around the boy's wrist to keep him from running.

"Hello, Aspen, I'm Ryker and this hard-headed Neanderthal is Tanner." Ryker shot a thumb over his shoulder.

"Just following orders." Tanner crossed his arms over his impressive chest, but Ryker saw the former Army medic's eyes run over Aspen, assessing the damage that they could all see.

"We need an ID and fingerprints," Marshal said, his deep voice suddenly filling the space.

"No," Ryker said flatly and gave Marshal a cold, hard stare.

It was a look that Ryker didn't use often. It contained every ounce of his father's teaching from his upbringing. He came from old money and power that not many could match or beat and he used it now to go head-to-head with Marshal.

"You can get your damned information later." Ryker didn't raise his voice, but his tone had Marshal staring at him with surprise and Tanner took a slow step backward.

"Ryker…" Marshal began.

While he may have a crush on the sexy bodyguard, he was in no way a pushover and he needed to remind the man of that. Besides, they were at odds now, and wasn't this the way Marshal wanted it?

So be it.

"You work for me," he snapped and Marshal froze. "So, stay the hell out of my business," he growled.

The silence in the hallway became charged with tension.

Ignoring both Marshal and Tanner, Ryker gently took Aspen's hand and linked their fingers. With Cohen holding the boy's other wrist, Ryker walked the pair farther into his home and up the wide staircase. He could feel Marshal's eyes burning into his back, but he kept his spine straight and eyes forward.

When they reached his private wing, he guided them into his study and closed the door. He released his grip on Aspen.

Cohen let out a laugh. "That was impressive. If I hadn't been watching you, I would have sworn it was your father talking."

Snorting with laughter, Ryker groaned. "Don't remind me of how much I take after him."

"You don't really. You know that, right?" Cohen touched his arm lightly.

Ryker nodded and turned to Aspen, who stayed frozen just inside the room.

"It's okay, they won't bother us here."

With a jerky nod, the boy slowly drew off his sunglasses and Ryker got his first glimpse of the damage left by someone's fists.

"Do you own all these books?"

The question was odd, considering the books were in his home, but he heard the tremble in Aspen's voice.

Nodding with a smile, Ryker waved a hand around.

"Help yourself. If you see any you want to read, you're more than welcome to take it with you."

"Ah, that's the reason I'm here," Cohen said. "Aspen needs a place to lay low where there's constant protection and right now, you have a house filled with bodyguards."

"I do." Ryker grinned. "I'll have a room prepared."

"What about your man ?" Cohen walked over to drop gracefully down onto the rich brown leather couch that faced a giant picture window overlooking the grounds.

"He's not my man," he snapped and followed to the sitting area to sprawl into a matching leather chair that sat across from the couch.

Aspen moved to the bookshelves that stretched the room and reached the ceiling. The boy ran his fingers over the spines of the books.

"And I'll handle Marshal."

Cohen laughed. "I cannot believe you haven't tapped that."

"Shut up," he grimaced, hooking one leg over the armrest. "He doesn't want anything to do with me." He studied the delicate silver bracelet around his wrist. A lump grew in his throat.

He couldn't fathom why Marshal was blowing hot and cold and why he was refusing to even contemplate giving them a shot. The sparks between them had been undeniable.

Perhaps the reaction in that kiss had been all in his head and Marshal felt nothing beyond friendship.

Hell, now they were more like acquaintances if he were being honest. They'd gone from being close to something…painful.

"I'm sorry." Cohen pressed a hand to his arm. His friend knew of his unrequited feelings for Marshal.

"How old is he?" Ryker changed the subject by jerking his head towards Aspen.

"Sixteen in two weeks."

Ryker blinked, staring at his friend.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Cohen said, running his fingers through his dark curly hair, thrusting the teal streak along the front into disarray. The streak's color changed with Cohen's mood.

"That he's a minor and you're breaking the law?"

"I've contacted my lawyer. He's taking steps to get Aspen emancipated from his parents."

"Did both parents do that?" Ryker shot Aspen a quick glance, but the boy was at the end of the large room with an open book in his hands.

"I don't know." Cohen glanced away. "He showed up at the center scared to death."

"So, his parents could be innocent," Ryker murmured, thinking quickly. "Leave him here, I'll see if I can get him to talk."

"I was thinking—"

A knock interrupted Cohen and a moment later, Marshal stepped into the room, removed his cowboy hat, and closed the door. Walking over to the sitting area, the bodyguard settled his large frame into the other comfy leather chair and his hat on one muscled thigh.

Ryker caught and held Marshal's gaze across the distance. He wasn't giving an inch and scowled.

"What do you want?" Ryker kept his voice devoid of emotion and calm, tired of being hurt.

"Tell me what you know," Marshal said while gazing at him.

Ryker decided right then and there to put aside personal feelings for just a moment and deal with the issue of an abused boy.

"I don't know much, yet. Cohen?" Ryker shot his friend a look.

Cohen told Marshal as much as he could about Aspen's story, which was very thin.

"Aspen?" Ryker called out, and when he got the boy's attention, he gestured him over.

Slowly, as if unsure about being close to any of them, Aspen came across the room clutching a book in his hands. Ryker made out the title of Stardust, a young adult modern-day fairytale.

"Have a seat next to Cohen, please," Ryker said.

Aspen settled on the couch cross-legged, the book clutched tightly to his chest. The bruises on his pale face stood out starkly.

Sitting next to Cohen, the pair looked almost identical. Both had curly black hair, blue eyes, and slender frames.

His eyes snapped to Cohen, then Aspen, and back to Cohen.

Ryker saw fear in Cohen's eyes.

Understanding suddenly dawned on Ryker.

What the actual fuck?

Cohen had lied to him.

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