Chapter Fourteen

R yker kept busy after leaving Cohen and Aspen with Marshal.

He had to keep moving. If he stopped, then he'd be tempted to…to what?

Yell? Punch Marshal? Probably both.

It wasn't the first time they'd disagreed on something, but fuck…this was a big something, not your run of the mill every day something like a hangnail.

Damn it.

He strode past the entrance to the greenhouse and stopped to backtrack. Shoving open the door, he stepped inside and shut it behind him before walking to the glass door at the end of the hallway.

Pressing his hands to the glass, he gazed into the room at the array of lush greenery beyond.

The room-sized terrarium had been his grandfather's pride and joy and he flipped his key card against the electronic lock and stepped inside before quietly shutting the door.

The silence there was of a different kind. Not total silence because the plants were alive. He could feel them breathing and sometimes he imagined he could hear them whispering to him.

Filled to the brim with rainforest and compatible plants of all kinds, he walked among the lush greenery.

This room was his sanctuary.

It was the place where Marshal had become more than just his father's employee. Here was where they'd become friends.

Years ago, he had escaped to this very room just to get away from Jeff Barclay. The tycoon had been well-connected in oil and his father, Robert Langston, had high hopes of investing and making a killing. The plan had been to marry him and Jeff Barclay's daughter, Stella. Only Barclay had ulterior motives.

Ryker hadn't been opposed to marrying Stella, but the woman's father couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Taking every opportunity to touch him when others were not looking, Ryker had had enough. He couldn't imagine the hell he'd live if he had married Stella and lived in the Barclay mansion. Something sickening swam in the fucker's eyes and Ryker knew in his gut it would only be a matter of time before Barclay raped him.

When he'd told his father about Barclay inappropriately putting his hands on him, he was called a liar.

One night he had finally had enough after being felt up by Barclay.

All hell broke loose at the dinner table when Ryker finally snapped.

"I will not marry Stella and nothing anyone says can make a difference in my decision."

Robert Langston slammed up from the dinner table, pounded his palms on the surface, and glared at him, his face red blotchy face.

"You will marry her."

Stella pressed a hand to her chest, looking aghast. Mr. Barclay sat with a smarmy smile on his face, studying the last bit of wine he held in a glass.

"I will not," Ryker said. "And if you persist, I'll walk out of this room and you'll never see me again."

"Like hell, you will!" his father bellowed.

His mother hurried up from her seat and pressed a hand on his dad's arm. The man violently shook her off and she stumbled against the table.

"Ma!" Ryker scowled at his father and rushed over to gently take his mother's arm. Giving his father a death glare, Ryker guided his mother out of the room.

"If you're really opposed to this marriage, then don't do it," she whispered as he took her to her rooms.

"I won't. Don't worry." After a brief smile, he left her there with her attendant and jogged down the stairs.

That day, the greenhouse was where he had ended up. Sinking down onto the cast-iron bench his grandfather had built for his grandmother, he pressed a hand to his forehead.

"It's a great place to escape."

His head snapped up. Seeing his father's new bodyguard and the man who'd rescued him brought a small smile twitching his lips. The attraction he felt flared to the surface.

"I think that's why my grandfather had this built. It was the only place he and my grandmother could get away from the…" He waved a hand around.

"Chaos?" Marshal had smiled and a dimple flashed. The man kept the mustache and beard on his face trimmed short, otherwise Ryker would have missed the small sexy indentation.

"And then some," he agreed with a laugh and sighed, glancing around. "Nobody's been in here for years but me."

"Well then, I'll keep your secret."

"Not afraid of my father?" He couldn't help the taunt. Most people who worked for his dad had their heads so far up the man's ass, they couldn't see daylight.

"No."

The word was so simply spoken that it surprised Ryker. It rang of truth and he wondered what made Marshal so confident. Where other people quaked in the face of Robert Langston, Marshal appeared to not give a fuck.

He had instantly liked that about the guy.

Ryker waved a finger between him and Marshal. "We are on the same page."

Marshal's low chuckle filled the room and Ryker found himself sharing a smile. "My grandfather would have liked you."

The next day, the wedding was called off and his father never spoke of it or the Barclays again.

That same bench was where he sank to now.

He felt so unsettled knowing that Marshal was in a relationship and had kids. He blinked at the sting in his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling where ivy had grown, taking over.

Sure, Marshal had gotten numerous phone calls through the years and several of them had been from kids, but Ryker had never put two and two together.

He'd even gone so far as to ask Marshal once a handful of years ago and he clearly recalled the incident.

He'd come upon Marshal entering through the front door with the phone to his ear and Ryker heard the high-pitched voice of a child.

"Who's that?" he'd asked when Marshal ended the call.

"Just a friend's kid." Marshal had brushed it off and Ryker hadn't questioned the response.

He'd trusted Marshal's word.

The main reason he'd believed the man back then was because he felt sure Marshal wouldn't lie to him.

He had been so stupid.

Fuck.

Mist sprayed out, drifting on the air, adding to the scent of plants and potted dirt. There had been so many times he'd sat in here with Marshal talking about everything under the sun, but nothing about the man's family.

Because he'd assumed that Marshal had been single.

He felt fucking betrayed.

Marshal was…

What? Just what was Marshal?

Marshal was… his .

Damn it. Sure, they were only friends, but…

But what?

He had always wanted more.

He squeezed his hands into fists. He wanted to slap Marshal…and then what?

Kiss him.

Ryker closed his eyes. And that was a problem right there. Even though he'd dated through the years, he had never gotten over his crush.

He wanted to kiss Marshal Thomas and had for a long fucking time.