Chapter Twenty-Nine

M arshal slammed his hands against the bars that had confined him for fucking days.

He'd gone to deliver the flash drive to Anthony only to be double-crossed. Call him fucking stupid but he hadn't suspected that Donald and Anthony had planned to keep him out of the picture.

"You're only bruising your hands," Donald said, coming into the room.

"Fuck you."

The man sighed, straightened the jacket of his suit, and took a seat in one of the lounge chairs that sat several yards from the cell.

"You're no longer one of us. You can't be involved in what's happening." Donald poured a glass of water from a clear pitcher that sat on the small table between the two chairs and took a sip.

"I'm the one who got the fucking flash drive," Marshal reminded the man.

"You got lucky. If I could have gotten it or my hands on Ryker, I would be the one Anthony praised."

"Hands on Ryker…" Marshal's blood ran cold and then shot to heated rage. "You fuck. That was you at the Langston estate."

"Figured that out just now?" Donald smirked and swallowed the rest of the water.

"I'm going beat the shit out of you when I get out of here."

Marshal would make Donald pay for his part in the Langston invasion.

"Ryker's bodyguard was killed," Marshal growled.

"Collateral damage." Donald grimaced and sipped at the water. "Look, I was just doing my job."

"And your job is going to cost you," Marshal told the man.

Donald waved a hand at the cage. "It wasn't my idea to infiltrate the estate, nor mine to lock you up."

"You fucking drugged me."

If he hadn't trusted Donald, he would have never taken a drink of the bourbon in the glass.

He'd come to give the flash drive to Anthony and they'd double-crossed him.

"Ryker wasn't supposed to be there when they arrested his father," Marshal said.

"I know that's the way you wanted it," Donald said.

"No. That's what Anthony promised. He gave his fucking word, but just like you both it was worthless."

"He had a job to do," Donald growled.

"And that included entering Ryker's home and killing people?"

"That wasn't the plan. Anthony thought if we got Ryker, then his father would hand over the flash drive."

"You're both fucking stupid." Marshal gripped the bars. He needed to talk to Ryker. "Give me my phone."

Donald shook his head. "And let you call in the calvary? Not happening."

The man jumped when knuckles rapped on the door to the private room.

Marshal had no clue where the fuck he was. Or if they'd even left the state of Colorado. They could have transported him to a CIA holding spot while he was knocked out. His internal clock let him know if it was night or day, but other than that, he didn't know jack.

All he did know was when shit went down and they took Ryker, he hadn't been there.

Donald stood, glanced at his phone, and then frowned. Walking to the door, the man put his ear to it. Usually, the phone would buzz and then the knuckles would rap. This time it was slightly different.

"Who is it?"

"It's food delivery. I'm Mark, remember? I was here yesterday?" a voice called through the wood.

"Where the fuck is the guard?" Donald muttered. Pulling his weapon, Donald eased open the door.

Apparently, what he found was nothing threatening because Donald returned his gun to his holster.

Mark, the food delivery guy from the day before, pushed open the door with food in his hands.

"Where's the guard?" Donald growled.

"He's using the toilet," Mark said. "He said to bring in the burgers, fries, and shakes."

The delivery guy pushed past Donald, forcing him to take a step back.

Marshal's mouth watered, he was fucking starving.

"I'll take that."

Real's voice filled the room and his friend stepped through the door behind the delivery guy.

With the business end of a Ruger SR22 handgun nudged against Donald's forehead, Real reached over and took the weapon from the man's holster.

"Put the food down there," Real told Mark, and bags of food and drinks were placed on a plastic table that sat against one wall.

Real never took his eyes from Donald, whose mouth had gaped open and remained that way.

"Where's the keys?"

"It's a keypad," Marshal murmured.

"Open it."

"No." Donald's voice shook, his mouth clamped closed, and his fists clenched at his sides.

Real gripped the slighter man by the throat and backed him against the wall. Not that Donald was small, but in comparison to Real, he looked like a twig.

Real was that fucking big.

The end of the weapon pressed against Donald's closed lips for a moment before it was forced between the man's teeth.

Blood from Donald's smashed lips smeared the barrel of Real's weapon.

"I don't know you," Real said really soft like. "And I don't have anything to lose. I can end you and disappear and live my life with total enjoyment."

Donald's eyes were the size of saucers. His mouth was a rounded O around the barrel. Donald's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"I answer to a man who holds all the power. And that guy right there?" Real jerked his head to Marshal. "Is his kin."

Shit .

Real wasn't going to tell Donald that his cousin was the current Secretary of Defense, was he?

"Real…" Marshal hissed.

"So, we can do this the easy way or I can blow your head off."

"Fwo, fixsh…" Donald began around the barrel and Real removed the weapon.

"Punch it in." Real's voice hadn't ever changed. The man's tone stayed steady, quiet, and lethal.

Donald punched in the code to his cell with shaking fingers.

Stepping over to Donald, Marshal punched the man in the liver and when Donald doubled over, Marshal clocked the fucker beneath his chin. Donald dropped like a stone and Marshal crouched down in front of the guy.

"That's just a warm up," he told Donald before standing upright.

He roamed over to the burgers and fries and grabbed a few to stuff his face with.

"Took you long enough," Marshal muttered to Real.

"I had to fucking locate you," Real muttered, removing Donald's phone and anything else Real deemed could be used as a weapon.

Real lifted Donald from the floor with one hand and locked the guy in the cell. With the grip of his Ruger, Real smashed the keypad into pieces.

"We good?" Mark asked, returning to the doorway.

Real walked over and tapped his phone to the phone Mark held out and the delivery man's eyes widened.

"You never saw us," Real warned.

"Saw who?" Mark smiled and left the room.

"Fill me in." Marshal finished one burger, grabbed another, and took Donald's weapon that Real held out to him.

Marshal checked the clip and turned to Donald, who had sat his ass on the bench in the cell. Blood dripped down the man's chin from where he'd bitten his lip.

"When you least expect it, I'll be behind you," Marshal promised, holding Donald's gaze through the bars. "Where's my fucking cell phone?"

"Anthony has it."

Without another word, Marshal walked out.

He was still in Colorado or what appeared to be with the cold snapping through the far closed door.

"We aren't far from Langston's estate," Real said as they walked outside together. Sitting up right next to the door was the guard who'd supposedly been using the toilet.

"Dead?"

Real rolled his eyes. "No."

"Good. I don't want to leave a trail of dead bodies if I can help it," Marshal said when they reached a black SUV. Although, he wanted to kill Donald.

"And if you can't help it?" Real snorted as he started the car.

Marshal snapped his seatbelt in place. "Then I'll kill them all."

"So, what's the plan?" Real drove out of the parking lot and Marshal discovered they were in a warehouse district.

"Get Ryker."

"He's out of jail and at the Brick Estate. I doubt you're walking in there."

"Anthony has my fucking phone."

"Tell me about Anthony," Real muttered as the SUV barreled down the freeway.

"He's CIA. And a fucking pain in my ass. I'm going to…" Marshal squeezed his hands into fists, picturing Anthony's neck in them.

"A phone call to your cousin can end all this fucking shit."

"He's busy working," Marshal said and glanced out the window at the passing scenery.

William Caldwell had taken office as the current SecDef a few years ago after Dave left office.

"How's Dave?" Marshal asked about the former SecDef. Dave was supposedly retired, but could never seem to get completely out of things.

Real tossed him a glance before returning his eyes to the road. "Good, I guess."

"Does he still have his hand in the Specialty Teams?"

The specialty teams were Phoenix and Pegasus. Plus, a shit ton more that even Marshal didn't know about. He supposed that he could include Real's unit, Genesis, in there, but they were more assassins than law enforcement. Plus, there was Erebus—those fuckers were dark assassins that lived on the fringes doing work that even Pegasus or Phoenix wouldn't touch.

"Yeah, he still runs Pegasus, Phoenix, and Erebus. I know he's getting tired though," Real said, getting over into the fast lane.

"I can only imagine," Marshal said. Dave had to be in his late fifties or early sixties by now.

"They told your boyfriend about your involvement," Real said, effectively changing the subject.

"I figured they would."

Having Ryker know about the setup would make it that much harder for the man to forgive him.

Marshal didn't have any words planned because frankly, he didn't know what the fuck he could say. He swallowed down the sick feeling in his gut.

How do you make amends for a lie you've been living for years?