Chapter Twelve

R yker saw the exact moment Cohen realized he'd figured shit out.

Not the whole story, but enough to know that the bullshit Cohen had spouted earlier had not been true.

When his friend took a deep breath and opened his mouth, Ryker held up one finger. Cohen deflated and snapped his mouth closed.

"Cousin? Brother?"

Marshal shot him a frowning look and then snapped his eyes to Cohen and Aspen.

"Cousin." Cohen released a heavy sigh.

"First?"

"Yes, first cousins," Cohen murmured.

"Why the big lie?" Ryker asked around a lump in his throat.

"It was me. I didn't want anyone to know my last name," Aspen said, reaching out to link his fingers with Cohen's.

"And the bruises are from my uncle," Cohen said, wrapping an arm around his younger cousin's shoulders.

"Oh, fuck me." Ryker tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling.

"Your uncle is Winchester Armani," Marshal flatly bit the words out, it was not a question.

"Yes," Cohen said.

"So, your dad's brother…" Ryker said, sucking in a quick breath.

Cohen nodded and squeezed Aspen's hand.

"What the hell warranted him hitting you?" Ryker asked Aspen.

"I…" Tears stood in the teenager's eyes.

"He got a fucking B in business," Cohen snarled, making Aspen jump.

Ryker had met Winchester through the years, but knew next to nothing about the man who came regularly to his father's office.

And while he'd met Cohen's numerous brothers, sisters, and cousins, he hadn't known about this particular cousin.

"Why haven't I ever met him before?" With a squinty-eyed look, Ryker shot the words at Cohen.

"Because he lived with his mother in New York until two months ago. She's now deceased."

Aspen ducked his head and squeezed the book tighter and Ryker's heart broke for the boy. To lose his mother and be sent to an abusive father had to be hell on earth.

"Do you have any siblings?" Marshal quietly asked Aspen.

"No, it's just me." Aspen turned his face away from them.

"My lawyer should have the papers done by tomorrow morning," Cohen told them.

"You're taking on a pretty powerful person. I don't think having you here is going to make a bit of difference once Robert Langston hears of this," Marshal said.

Ryker grimaced; he could see it already. His dad would take Winchester Armani's side without doing any investigation. Especially because the Armanis were just as wealthy and powerful as them. Plus, his father was friends with Winchester.

"What do you suggest?" Ryker turned to Marshal. After an initial start of surprise, the man squinted thoughtfully.

"I suggest you come home with me," Marshal told Aspen. "I have…a son around your age. You two might hit it off and I know he's bored."

"Wait…You have a son?" Ryker was so stunned that his mouth gaped. Shock didn't begin to describe the emotions washing over him. His face felt hot and his breathing turned shallow.

"Yes." Marshal turned slowly toward him.

"You're married ?" He couldn't keep the accusation from lifting his voice.

"Ah no, it was common law."

Marshal had a sixteen-year-old son…so twelve years ago, the boy would have been four.

"So…when you saved me and came to work here, you had a family?" he said thickly.

"Yes." Marshal's face and eyes filled with some emotion that Ryker couldn't decipher.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Call him an idiot, but he felt betrayed.

"Your father knew."

That stung. All these years he'd thought he and Marshal had been friends. Only they'd never really had been.

It was clear as day the reason Marshal had called a halt to his fumbling attempts at seduction and regret at the kiss. Humiliation swept up Ryker's chest, heating his neck and face.

"How many kids do you have?" Ryker inquired, speaking slowly to give himself time to calm the hell down. Plus, he needed to wrap his head around the information and not make a fool out of himself.

Why didn't he know any of this? For fuck's sake, he'd known Marshal for twelve damned years. Sure, a good portion of that time had been spent apart, but still, the last three years they'd been close until the man quit nearly a year ago.

Being caught off guard pissed him off and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to punch Marshal in the face.

"I have three."

Fuck…

Ryker squeezed his fists, schooled his facial features, and was careful to keep his eyes blank. Three children? Where the hell were they? he silently thought.

"What are their ages?" he asked tightly.

"Tristan is sixteen. The twins Colin and Owen are four."

Four years old…that meant Marshal's woman had been pregnant not too long ago.

"That sounds…like a very nice family," Ryker said through his teeth.

After a long moment, he gave Marshal a small smile and looked away.

"Thank you," Marshal said slowly, feeling unsettled.

Ryker was shutting him out and something simmered just below the slender man's calmness.

Feeling like a vice was suddenly gripping his chest, Marshal carefully turned back to Aspen. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to have you meet Tristan."

"Sure. Here?" Aspen asked tentatively, darting a glance at Ryker, who was still gazing out the window.

"No, staying here is not a good idea."

"That's right," Ryker murmured in agreement with him. "Staying here will get you caught. Marshal can keep you safe, he and his family. Your father will never look for you there."

With those words, Ryker rose to his feet and walked out of the room.

Marshal wanted to go after Ryker and explain about Megan, but now was not the time. And really…hadn't he set boundaries this past week? Did he owe Ryker any explanation about his private life?

He'd been extremely careful through the years to keep the details of his private life from Ryker. So why had he spilled it now?

Because of the kiss? Because he was tired of the lies? Perhaps it was both reasons.

Fuck. He returned his hat to his head.

"You ready?" he gruffly asked the boy and Cohen.

"Yeah, I think it's a good idea to get out of here," Cohen said and drew Aspen up from the couch.

Marshal walked toward the door, rubbing at the sudden heartburn filling his chest. He'd had too much damned coffee this morning, that was all that was.

It certainly wasn't guilt.