Chapter Twenty-Four

Later that night…

T empted to smoke before entering Conley's members-only club, Marshal gazed at the pack of cigarettes in his hand.

He suddenly recalled the grimace of distaste on Ryker's face and quickly tucked the smokes away.

"Want me to come inside with you?"

Glancing over, Marshal caught Real's gaze and gave a small shake of his head.

"No. Your appearance might spook them."

Real smirked and settled his massive frame against the club's brick wall.

Marshal yanked at the door and entered the building.

Wednesday night at the club was quiet, but a few people had braved the icy weather to come and find comfort with friends or in the bottom of a glass.

The club lights were low and Marshal stood just inside letting his eyes adjust until he could see around the lowly lit room. Spotting Donald at a booth in the far back, he made his way over and took a seat opposite the guy.

Donald looked tired, like he had been running on fumes for far too long. The man swallowed half the glass of liquor he held in his hand before pointing to a second glass on the table.

"Anthony will be here any minute," Donald mumbled into his glass.

Clenching his jaw, Marshal lifted the glass and tossed back half the liquid. The expensive scotch bit at his tongue, but felt smooth going down.

"Called in the big guns?" He lifted one eyebrow.

The man snorted. "You've only yourself to blame. You promised to end shit before you quit last time."

"Look, I no longer work for the agency." Marshal kept his voice low. "I took out Cramer's second-in-command. You and Anthony can take out Armani and Langston. Just leave Ryker out of it."

"That's not possible," Anthony said, appearing as if out of nowhere.

The CIA agent slid into the booth, caging him in so he had to scoot the fuck over. He scowled at his former boss.

"Ryker knows nothing about his father's business," Marshal told Anthony.

"He took money from his grandfather's estate to start his cosmetic business," Anthony reminded him.

"That money was left to him when his grandfather passed away."

"That money is dirty, just like the rest of the family," Anthony snapped.

"Ryker doesn't know that. And you don't know if his grandfather was involved," Marshal growled right back, squeezing the glass.

"So, you think he doesn't know," the man returned and held up a finger when the waitress made her rounds. After Anthony ordered, he turned on him.

"I know him," Marshal glared. "He doesn't know what his father does."

Anthony gave an irritated sigh. "Let's talk about the fact that you are back at the Langston estate."

"So?"

"Get me the flash drive in Langston's safe. That will give us concrete evidence to take down Cramer."

"Nobody gets in that safe but Langston. You know that."

"My sources say that Ryker has the combination."

Marshal sipped at his drink and then squinted when something dawned on him. "Did you send that threat with Ryker's blood on it?"

"How else was I supposed to get you to go back?"

"Motherfucker. I called in the FBI," he snarled and tossed back the liquor in his glass.

"I know, I talked to Alexander. Calling them in made everything look legit."

Marshal didn't like Anthony's smile. "Do you have someone on Alex's team?"

"Of course I do."

Fucking Alexander. The man hadn't said a word, but then why would he? Marshal had quit the CIA when he walked away from the Langstons. It irritated him, though. He considered Alexander Channing a friend, but he couldn't blame the guy for not talking.

"Who works for you?" He squinted at Anthony. "Hitch? Or is it Alex?"

"I can't disclose that information. You're no longer a part of us." Anthony sipped at his drink.

"Damn it, Anthony. I've been chasing my tail trying to find the source of the threat against Ryker." Marshal released an annoyed breath.

"Fifteen years, Marshal. We've been working on taking down the people involved with Cramer for fifteen fucking years," Anthony said.

Kenneth Cramer was the big fish. The drug kingpin also had his hands in child pornography. The heart of the matter was that Winchester Armani and Robert Langston both worked for Cramer—Armani ran operations and Langston kept the books.

"Let's not forget that I took out Jason White four years ago," Marshal reminded the man.

Jason White had been Kenneth Cramer's second-in-command at the time.

"Right, but Armani stepped up to take White's place in the organization. And don't you forget that Armani and Langston killed one of our own," Anthony snarled.

"I'll never forget that," Marshal glared.

CIA Jeff Grimes had been working undercover as a bodyguard in Langston's estate for three years. When Jeff had discovered evidence in Langston's office, the agent sent a text to Anthony to meet.

Only Grimes never showed up at the CIA rendezvous. Marshal, Anthony, and Donald had later found the agent's body in an abandoned warehouse. Grimes had been tortured to death. The man's last known contact had been with Ryker's father and Winchester Armani.

"So, I need you to get into that safe and find that flash drive. Or I'll send someone else in there for it."

"No," he said flatly. Like hell he'd let anyone else near Ryker.

"Fine, then find Jeff's evidence. That flash drive will take Cramer down. And when Cramer goes down… Armani and Langston go down with him and this whole fucking thing ends," Anthony said.

"And we get justice for Jeff," Donald added.

And Ryker's life was forever altered. The thought sat like lead in Marshal's gut.

He had entered the Langston estate under the guise of saving Ryker from a kidnapping, but that incident had been a setup from the beginning by Anthony Young—save the young billionaire and get in good with the family. Everything had been going as planned until the day he realized that he'd developed feelings for Ryker.

It started when Ryker had graduated from Harvard and came home to live full-time. Everything about the outspoken, energetic young man fascinated him. When they had worked together on getting Belle up and running, his feelings had escalated.

He had walked away before he could do any further damage like succumbing to his emotions and turning things physical.

So much for that.

Things were physical between them and as soon as Ryker regained consciousness, he was going to have a discussion and fix the shit he'd broken between them.

And as much as he wanted justice for Jeff, he had walked away back then even though leaving Ryker had been one of the most difficult decisions in his life.

Never again.

He was back now and he wanted more. He wanted to tie Ryker to him so he'd never get away. He no longer could keep his need for the younger man at bay like he had before.

And he knew why.

Ryker was his.

And now he wanted it all.

"If I'm no longer a part of the organization, then I don't fucking need to do your job," Marshal growled.

"What do you want?" Anthony scowled over his drink at him.

"I want full immunity for Ryker," he said.

"Not possible." Anthony shook his head.

"Then forget about getting that flash drive or any evidence from me."

"I'm not going to let you throw away our investigation because you've become infatuated," Anthony snapped.

"Fuck you."

"Hey, guys," Donald hissed when their voices lifted.

Anthony took a deep calming breath. "I'll see what I can do."

"You do it or I walk and take Ryker with me."

Marshal locked his eyes with Anthony's. He meant fucking business and he saw the moment his former boss realized it.

"I'll try."

"You help criminals get off when it suits you, you can help someone who's innocent. You can help me." Marshal wasn't backing down from this.

Anthony took a sip from his glass and slowly nodded. "I'll make it happen… if you get me evidence and that flash drive."

Marshal sighed and rubbed at his face. When shit went down and the Langstons crumbled, he would be there to help Ryker pick up the pieces.

And the bookkeeping information to take down Cramer was on that flash drive.

He had to get into that safe.

The first order of business was Ryker's recovery. He'd do everything in his power to make up with Ryker and get them back to normal…not the old normal, this new one.

A place where life suddenly looked a lot brighter.