Chapter Twenty-Three

Several hours later…

M arshal shifted on the hard seat, elbows on his thighs as he rubbed at his face tiredly. Dropping his hands, he leaned his head against the white wall of the hospital room.

The constant beeping of the monitor next to Ryker's bed was reassuring. What was not comforting was the fact that the doctors had put Ryker into a deep sleep to assess and repair the damage to his face.

Instead of shoving Langston to the floor, he should have knocked the living shit out of the abusive motherfucker.

That was next on his list. If Langston thought he got away from answering for hitting Ryker, Marshal would teach the man it was certainly not the case.

The fucker was going to pay the price for his actions.

"The doctor says he's going to be fine."

Marshal lifted his head and gazed at Real, who had chosen to stand against the wall instead of taking a seat in one of the hard ass chairs.

"Thanks for being here," Marshal croaked.

"I didn't make it in time for the round-up at Langston's place," Real pointed out.

"Just being here helps. And showing up when I called means—"

"I know." Real cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I won't leave until you get this shit settled."

"I appreciate that."

"Marshal?" Jaxon's voice came softly from the door and he shoved to his feet.

"I'll be right back," he told Real, who nodded and finally settled into one of the hospital room chairs.

Stepping outside the room, Marshal pulled Ryker's door closed and leaned against the wall. His tired eyes met Jaxon's and he grimaced.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Jaxon said.

"Your reaction when I called made me feel like I did."

"That's your own guilt," Jaxon countered. "You took the initiative to move Aspen to a more secure place. I would have done the same thing." Jaxon laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "My only gripe here is that you failed to call me when it first happened."

"Sorry," he muttered, not really sorry at all.

"I knew you were going to be trouble."

"How so?" Marshal squinted at Jaxon.

"You came from the CIA."

"That's classified."

"Not from me," Jaxon reminded him, the words ringing true.

"I called my former boss out of habit." He scowled, making his point. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept a lid on it."

"It's not like I'm going to talk about your previous jobs to anyone who doesn't already know about them."

Thankfully, the hallway had remained empty and since both he and Jaxon had kept their voices low, nobody was the wiser.

Marshal crossed his arms and planted a foot back against the wall, not giving a shit if he left a boot mark.

"What I want from you is your opinion on who infiltrated the Langston Estate and got away with only five casualties."

Four of the five dead men Jaxon was speaking about had been annihilated by Bishop and Tanner upon entry to the place. The fifth man had been shot dead by ASAC Alex Channing when the perp had tried to enter the FBI's room.

Thankfully, other than a few bruises, none of the other bodyguards or FBI had been hurt in the altercation. Chad was their only casualty.

"None of the perps had IDs," Marshal murmured.

"And no fingerprints," Jaxon said.

"Which means they work for some pretty powerful people."

"That or someone who has connections and can hire hitmen."

Marshal frowned. "You thinking assassins?"

"Unless there's someone with a grudge against Langston."

"There's a shit ton of people who want Langston dead."

And he was one of them, but he kept that bit of information to himself. No sense in dragging Jaxon in if not necessary.

"No fingerprints, no serial numbers on weapons, dressed the same," Jaxon murmured.

"Rather than assassins, it reeks of hired thugs," Marshal pointed out another alternative.

"What about the note with Ryker's blood on it?"

"Getting Ryker's blood was an inside job. Alex has a whole team trying to figure out who might have done it. We were tailing staff members prior to the invasion."

"So, Winchester Armani is our main suspect. Or it could be whoever sent the threat," Jaxon said with a quick frown.

"There's a third option," Marshal said.

"What's that?"

"It's not related to either one."

"Which would be…" Jaxon growled.

"I have a hunch…If it pans out, I'll fill you in."

His suspicions had been growing over the past two days and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He didn't want to tip his hand too early, so he would be very careful.

"I hate when you do that." Jaxon wasn't amused.

"If it's nothing, then you won't need to worry about it."

With a heavy sigh, Jaxon dropped the questions.

"I have a phone call to make," he murmured. "Can you have someone keep an eye on Ryker?"

"I'll put Bishop and Tanner on the door," Jaxon said.

Relieved, Marshal walked away, lifting his cell phone to his ear as he turned the corner.

"Marshal…" Donald Bass's smooth voice came over the phone. "I was wondering when you'd get around to calling me."

"Let's meet." His voice sounded like gravel, but there was no way of changing that, especially when he was this pissed off.

"You know where to find me." The man hung up.

"I sure the fuck do," Marshal muttered, crushing his phone in his hand.