Chapter Twenty-Five

R yker came awake slowly, aware of the throbbing through the numbness in his face.

His gaze flickered toward the window.

Darkness lay beyond, only broken by a street light in the distance. The monitor next to his bed gave off a constant beeping. His mouth felt like a fucking desert.

"Hi, honey," his mother's soothing voice came from near the bed and her cool hand pressed to his heated forehead.

"Ma…" he croaked.

She was there quickly putting an ice chip in his mouth and he gratefully sucked on and swallowed it. She'd taken care of him after the car accident and was familiar with his needs.

He had a million questions, but right then he wondered where Marshal was.

Had his father already sought revenge?

Was Marshal dead?

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

"It's okay, sweetie," his mother soothed, brushing her hand against his forehead. "Just sleep."

He drifted.

Several hours later, he came awake and found Syn sleeping in a chair next to his bed. His best friend was holding his hand. Across the room on the small two-person lounge, Jennifer was curled up sleeping on her side.

Just having them there brought a lump to his throat. They'd been through numerous fucked up situations through the years, but he knew he took the prize for fuck ups lately.

Syn must have sensed him awake because the beautiful man's blue eyes were suddenly locked with his. So much emotion filled Syn's face—everything from worry to rage warred together.

"Call Marshal," Ryker whispered, the words barely audible, but Syn heard them and pulled out his phone.

Holding it up to his ear, Ryker listened as it rang.

"Syn?" Marshal's voice was filled with worry. "What's the matter?"

"Where are you?" Ryker said, his voice scratchy and raw sounding.

"Ryker…" Marshal breathed out his name.

"I woke up and you're not here." He hated the wispy, needy words, but they wouldn't remain unspoken.

"I had a meeting." Marshal's rasping voice was filled with regret.

"I see…" He wavered, unsure of everything.

Hadn't they shared a moment during the home invasion? Or had that been his imagination? Words spoken over the phone in the middle of panic couldn't be taken seriously, could they?

Could those words erase the words Marshal had spoken to Bishop?

Ryker turned his head away from the phone, but Syn followed with the press of it back to his ear.

"Wait for me, I'll be right there."

The growly words sent a shiver down his spine and a warm wash of heat into his belly.

"K," he whispered and gave Syn a watery smile.

Syn waggled his eyebrows, hung up the phone, and tucked it away before resuming his seat. Lifting one of his hands, Syn pressed a kiss to his cold fingers.

"How's my face?" he rasped, not able to shake off sounding like a frog.

"The doctors said there's no lasting damage."

"You mean other than the scars," he said flatly.

"Yes, other than the scars. Now, tell me who hit you?"

He stared at Syn, his mind returning to his father's office. Only three other people had been in the room. His father, Marshal, and another bodyguard he knew went by the name of Felix.

Nobody else knew that his father had hit him.

Why was Marshal keeping it quiet? It had to be Marshal, right? That guy, Felix, would only keep quiet if ordered. And Ryker was pretty damned sure that his own father would never want it to get out that he hit him like that.

"I don't remember." He glanced away because lying to Syn wasn't something he liked doing.

"There are rumors that it was one of the gunmen," Syn murmured, rubbing his cold fingers with both warm hands. He'd been terrified getting the information that Ryker had been admitted to the hospital after an attack. "Why the hell didn't you hide?" Syn snarled.

Ryker gave a soft huff. Syn knew of the secret access panels throughout the house.

"I couldn't."

"Why?" Syn sounded so choked up that it brought a sting to his eyes.

"Because…that's not me."

"You're too damned reckless!" Syn sniffled.

"I agree," Jennifer said from the small sofa, her voice filled with sleep. "You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't," Ryker said, giving them both a small smile.

Jennifer curled up in the bed next to him, placing a palm on his chest and Syn continued holding his hand.

"Do we know who it was?" Ryker asked Syn.

"No, but I heard a rumor that it was organized," Syn said.

"Like…organized crime? Are you talking Armani?" Ryker frowned. It kind of made sense if that were the case. Winchester Armani had to be pissed that his son was missing.

"No. More like organized officials."

"FBI," Ryker said.

"Maybe," Syn said. "But something is off."

"I'm sure you'll find the answer," Jennifer said, hugging Ryker tightly.

She changed the subject and they talked about nonsensical things that didn't really matter, but Ryker was grateful for the distraction.

A while later, the hospital door suddenly shoved open and Marshal stepped inside. The big man's body seemed to fill up the room and suck the air from Ryker's lungs.

"Please give us the room," Marshal murmured low, holding Ryker's gaze across the distance.

Syn squeezed his fingers before standing and guiding Jennifer out of the room with promises of cafeteria food and coffee.

Marshal closed the door and walked to his bedside. Ryker kept his eyes locked with the man's and when Marshal stood over him, he craned his neck back to stare upward.

He turned his head slightly so the good side of his profile was exposed. Call it vanity, but he needed to be attractive to Marshal.

Marshal, however, was having none of that and sank down to the side of the bed, crowding him over before placing a very careful palm on the scarred part of his face and turning his head to face him.

"Don't ever hide from me," Marshal ordered, the words all growly and possessive.

Ryker shivered and the hand slipped from his cheek to cup the back of his neck. He was lifted upward and Marshal's head tipped down. What he thought would be a soul-sucking kiss, turned out not to be.

The man's perfectly trimmed jawline pressed against the good side of his face and Marshal's lips brushed against his ear.

Oh fuck!

Ryker gulped back the words and fisted the sheet. Marshal's arm slid around his neck and he was crushed gently against the man's chest. Sucking in a quick breath, Ryker slipped his arms up and around Marshal's neck, holding on for dear life.

From the moment Marshal had saved him from the kidnappers all those years ago, they'd been destined for each other. His only regret was that it had taken them all these years to get here.

And those hurtful words Marshal had said to Bishop kept coming back to his mind.

He hit the side of his fist against Marshal's back. "You've got some explaining to do."

"I know." Marshal's voice came out roughly. "But not right now."

Ryker eased back and Marshal's hands rested on his shoulders.

"You lied with those words to Bishop."

"I did."

"And I want to know why."

"And I'll tell you, but not yet."

What secret was Marshal hiding? Ryker shoved the question aside for the moment.

"Have you spoken to my father?"

"No, why?"

"He's not going to take what you did lightly."

"What I did?" Marshal's brow puckered with confusion.

"You pushed him."

"He's lucky I didn't knock the fuck out of him."

Ryker clutched at Marshal's arm. "No, you can't think that way."

"Calm down." Marshal brushed tender fingers over his cheek and beneath his chin. "I'll handle your father."

Something occurred to Ryker just then. "I need to get into my grandfather's safe."

"Oh?" Marshal asked, careful to keep his tone casual.

"Yeah, I'm looking for acquisition documents and records."

"Can't you just go in there and get them?"

Marshal knew the answer, but he needed to know where Ryker's head was at.

Did the man suspect his father of criminal dealings? He had to very carefully go about finding out.

"Normally, yes. But I have a feeling my dad doesn't want me meddling in the family business."

"So, what do you need from me?" Marshal cupped the back of Ryker's neck.

Fuck. This could be way easier than he had first thought it would be.

"I need him distracted. Preferably out of the house while I get into his office and search the safe," Ryker said. "He goes to an off-site meeting every Friday."

"Yes, but he monitors that room on his phone app," Marshal murmured.

"I know. That's why I need the FBI to take down the feed for me."

Marshal blinked.

Ryker seemed to have it all planned out.

All he needed to do was come along for the ride.

No harm and no foul, right?

Shit.

The thought sat like lead in Marshal's gut. He needed to come clean with Ryker.

"Ryker—"

The door was suddenly shoved open and Lydia Langston walked in. She took one look at a wide-awake Ryker and burst into tears. Rushing to the bed, she wrapped her arms around her son.

Marshal slid from sitting on the side of the bed and into the hospital chair next to it.

There would be time to inform Ryker about what was going on.

Right now was not that time.