Chapter Eighteen

O ne week later, Ryker pushed open the door to his father's study and stepped inside.

"Shut the door."

He grimaced and pushed the heavy wood closed before walking farther into the large room. He always felt like it was twenty degrees colder in there than in the rest of the estate, but that could be attributed to his father's frostiness.

Robert Langston sat behind his wide oak desk in a black leather chair with a wide window at his back. Beyond the glass gave a snapshot of the rolling hills and trees that covered the estate.

Glancing away from the view, he walked over and sat in one of the two thickly cushioned leather chairs that sat in front of his father's desk. Comfortably settled in the brown material, he laid his palms on the wide arms.

"How's the investigation going?"

"What?" His father frowned as if confused for a moment and released an irritated-sounding breath.

"What? I can't ask about a threat against me?"

"It wasn't against you. I was against the whole family."

"With my blood on the notes." He smirked. Did his father think he wasn't able to get information when he wanted?

"It's just a scare tactic."

Ryker glanced away and toward the trees beyond the glass. "What did you need?"

"I need you to keep your word and marry Hailey Baldwin."

"So you and her father can do your deal? No thanks."

Robert squinted at him as if trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"You like her."

"As a friend. Maybe." He crossed one leg over the other and brushed at the black material of his Brunello Cucinelli suit slacks. The Piaget Polo Emperador wristwatch glinted on his wrist and he casually checked the time. Not that he had to be anywhere at the moment, but he wanted his father to think he did.

"How's business?" he murmured and watched as his father's whole body went still. The hand fiddling with the expensive pen on his desk stopped moving.

Their gazes locked across the distance. He kept his own expression bored, but he could see the calculating wonder in his father's brown eyes.

"My business is fine." The words came out slowly and methodically.

Ryker waved a hand around. "Weren't you and Hailey's dad needing this merger?"

A weird relief-filled dawning swept over his father's face and the man actually released a breath as if he'd been holding it.

"Yes."

"Then how can business be fine?"

"I'm growing it."

"What is it exactly?"

"You know we are in mergers and acquisitions."

"I know, but you've kept me out of it my whole life. How are you going to leave me the business if you don't show me the ropes?"

"You have your company to handle," Robert dismissed. "That's enough on your plate."

Ryker studied his father. The man was lying. Although it had been extremely difficult, he'd personally investigated his family's recent transactions. And there were no signs of mergers or acquisitions since his grandfather's death five years ago.

If there were any records, then his father was keeping them elsewhere. Perhaps the information was located in the wall safe that sat against the far wall of this office.

His grandfather's safe—a place that kept the family tree information among other valuables and keepsakes.

"So…" Ryker patted the chair's arms and stood. "I'm not going to marry Hailey."

"We will see." There was a threat in his father's voice, but he refused to acknowledge it.

"Yes. We will." His smile was just as fake as ever and his father clenched his fists on top of the desk as if to keep from hitting him.

He hadn't been hit by his dad in a long time. The last time had been just after Marshal had come to work for them.

Ryker remembered it clear as day. Robert's hand came up to strike his face and Marshal blocked the blow. The rage on his dad's face had been comical, but Marshal assured the man that he could and would get the authorities involved if necessary.

Robert Langston hadn't wanted it to get out that he hit his son over a B instead of an A in business, so he let it slide.

Marshal had smoothed it over with his father by admitting that he didn't want Robert to tarnish his reputation. That seemed to mollify his dad and the matter was dropped. From that day, however, Robert had never laid another hand on him.

It was time for him to move out. It was way past time, he thought as he left the room and entered the hallway. He wandered down in the direction of the bodyguards' office suite that sat adjacent to the temporary headquarters of the FBI.

How long would they all stay?

"So, you and Ryker are what?" Bishop was speaking and Ryker caught a glimpse of Marshal's shoulder leaning against the wall a bit around the corner. The two men were speaking softly, but Ryker was close enough to hear them.

It was said not to listen in on other people's conversations because nothing good can come from it, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh no." Marshal denied and Ryker fought a smile.

Was the man trying to protect his reputation?

"So, you're not together?" There was a frown in Bishop's voice.

"No. No way."

"So, it's nothing?" Bishop sounded confused and Ryker was growing confused as well.

"Yep. Not even nothing."

The breath he'd been holding stuttered out and his face went hot.

Bishop caught sight of him.

"Marshal," Bishop said.

"No, I'm telling you. There's nothing there," Marshal finished and glanced over his shoulder. Finding Ryker white-faced was the last thing he expected and his heart dropped sickeningly. "Ryker…"

The slender man spun wildly around and Marshal had to be fucking quick to catch him. He wrapped his arms around Ryker's waist and hauled the man's back to his chest.

Nails gouged at his forearms and Marshal kicked open the nearest door and stepped inside. He didn't release Ryker until he had the door closed and himself planted firmly in front of it.

He didn't dodge the object that hit him in the head because he didn't expect the violence.

He should have. Ryker had a volatile temper when he lost it.

When a small potted cactus flew at him, Marshal ducked and it crashed against the door. Next came all the wooden square coasters along with the stapler and the hole punch. All from the desk. Ryker moved on to the next desk, but Marshal launched after him.

He snagged Ryker's hand and wrestled the porcelain coffee mug out of the man's hand. Slamming it to the desk, he met Ryker's glare head-on.

"I didn't mean it," he began, and his head snapped sideways when Ryker's hand connected to his cheek.

"Fuck you." Ryker delivered another slap, this one harder. "Get the fuck out of my way."

He fisted his hands at his sides. "I didn't mean it." He blew out a breath, his cheek stung. "I'm just trying to keep us secret."

"Go to hell and take your secrets with you," Ryker spat, shoving him hard.

Taking a step back, he gave the man a bit of space.

"Once you calm down, we can talk about this rationally."

Ryker slapped him on the face again and then again. There'd be a bruise tomorrow.

"You wish. Now move."

Marshal clenched his teeth together. Ryker was too pissed off right now to see reason and that was probably why he did what he did next.

And it was the worst decision he'd ever made.

Lunging forward, he caught Ryker's jaw in his hands and forced his mouth into a kiss.

The sound of exploding rage should have warned him, but call him stupid… He was caught off guard when Ryker's knee crashed into his groin and took the air from his lungs and sent bile coating his tongue.

Unable to stand, Marshal dropped to the floor, cupping himself.

"Don't ever touch me again," the man snapped, jerked his suit jacket to straighten it, and then walked out of the room, leaving him rolling on the floor.

Marshal fought throwing up and breathed through the pain.

"Marshal!" Bishop was there with a hand on his shoulder and he finally rolled to his back.

All those hand-to-hand lessons in self-defense he'd taught Ryker had come back to bite him in the ass.

And he had only himself to blame.

Shit.

Fuck.

How was he going to get Ryker to believe that he hadn't meant a fucking word he'd said to Bishop?

"You okay?" Bishop asked.

"No."

He wasn't.

And if his words had screwed up his newly formed relationship with Ryker, he would never be okay again.