Chapter Thirty

"W e are your only hope," Harold said with a haughty lift of his chin. "Marry Hailey and we can pull you from the gutter."

The backdrop behind Harold showed the Baldwin estate with its snow-covered rolling hills and manicured trees. Pristine water that once filled a man-made pond was frozen over. The once bright blooming roses were nothing but spines of wood.

Everything outside looked cold and dead.

Just as his insides felt at the moment.

Ryker glanced around blankly at the room that was Harold's study.

Syn was around there somewhere, but his friend had disappeared shortly after they had made the drive over.

The news vans had converged at the borders of the Brick Estate and Ryker had had to make a decision. It had been safer for him to be somewhere the paparazzi wouldn't think of and Brick's home was not it.

So, he'd come here to Hailey's place. She had assured him they could be here and nobody would be the wiser.

On the drive over, Ryker had made the call to Jennifer and she was on her way.

Syn was probably out front waiting for her arrival.

Brandon stood leaning against one wall of the study. The bodyguard refused to let him out of his sight since his release from jail. And no matter how much he tried to get Brandon to relax, the man would not. They'd buried Chad a few days prior and everyone was feeling the impact.

Ryker knew Brandon missed Chad. Hell, they all missed Chad and right now, the FBI was interrogating criminals to find out who pulled the trigger.

When Jennifer got there, he would speak to both her and Syn and decide on his options.

If Syn could loan him money, then he could disappear for a while. Leaving the country sounded good to him.

He wanted to go somewhere and have a fresh start.

"Think about it. You have no other choice," Harold cut into his thoughts.

Ryker gazed at Harold through burning eyes and clenched his fists. The man's words rang true. But he did have a choice…right? Instead of being in debt to Syn, he could marry Hailey and resolve his financial issues. But wasn't that the same thing?

Take advantage of Syn or take advantage of Hailey…

Fuck, he didn't know what to do, but he did know that if he didn't make some hard and fast decisions, then he and his mother were going to end up homeless like his criminal father.

And Robert Langston was fucking guilty as all hell. The man had kept the books for crime boss Kenneth Cramer, who was charged with hundreds of counts of child sexual exploitation offenses. When convicted, Cramer would spend the rest of his life in prison, and Ryker had no doubts that his father would be right there with the sick fucker.

As a result of pending charges, the government had frozen all of Langston's assets. They had also locked up Belle Industries. Ryker was positive that he would need to liquidate his stock and file Chapter 13 or 11 or whatever the fuck number.

Maybe the answer was staring him in the face. When he gazed at Hailey, she walked over and took both of his hands. They had been okay once, maybe they could be again. He noted the tight strain on her lovely face and suspected that she was being coerced.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his name thundered through the room.

"Ryker."

Shock turned his insides to stone at the sound of Marshal growling his name from the doorway and he yanked his hands from Hailey's grip.

"Who let him in here?" Harold snapped.

"Sorry, sir." one of the guards mumbled as Marshal—wearing a black cowboy hat and looking all-powerful—stalked through the door of Harold Baldwin's study.

The asshole could have been a model for the cover of Western Horseman.

"You don't have to marry Hailey," Marshal told him, stopping several feet from approaching when Brandon's arm snapped out.

"Back the fuck off." Brandon's words carried menace, and a muscle ticked in Marshal's jaw before the man leveled those piercing blue eyes on him from beneath the brim of his hat.

Ryker glared at Marshal even though he wanted to burst into tears.

Marshal had betrayed him and now what?

Wanted to show up eleven days later?

Wanted to help him?

Fat fucking chance of that.

"Ryker, we are your only way out of this," Harold said, cutting in and then turning on Marshal. "And you stay the hell out of our business. You're nothing but a hired gun who turned on a family that took you in."

"Get out of my way," Marshal growled, the tone so low that it sounded all the more lethal.

"Do you know who I am?" Hailey's brother snarled, getting in Marshal's face.

"You're the guy with a broken jaw if you don't shut your fucking mouth," Marshal growled.

Harold's throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and Ryker fought back hysterical laugher, but it bubbled to the surface for a split second. The sound rang loudly in the room.

"Ryker…come with me."

He stared at Marshal through burning eyes. "Why should I?"

"I can keep you safe."

"Everything out of your mouth is a fucking lie."

"Please, baby."

Ryker felt bile rise in his throat. "You have some fucking nerve."

"You heard him," Harold cut in. "Get out, you're not wanted here."

Things happened almost too fast for Ryker to process.

Marshal's fist connected to Harold's face and when the man dropped to the ground, Brandon charged forward.

Marshal took out Brandon's feet from beneath him and the bodyguard hit the floor hard. Stalking toward him, Marshal was a force and Ryker backed up against the wall.

Not that he was scared.

Even if Marshal was a liar, the man had never physically hurt him.

"Get out!" Okay, that might have been a raging scream sound, but so the fuck what?

He was pissed.

And then he was suddenly upside down when he was hoisted over Marshal's shoulder.

"Ahhhhhh!" he raged, pounding at Marshal's broad back.

Nothing phased the massive man and Ryker found himself carried from the room, down the hallway, and outside to the front circular driveway.

Syn stood there with the door open to a black SUV and Ryker realized his friend had had a hand in Marshal getting onto Harold's estate.

"Syn!" Ryker hissed at his friend, feeling betrayed.

"I can't have you making a mistake this big," Syn murmured as Ryker was shoved inside the SUV.

The door shut and Ryker yanked at the handle only to find it remained closed. The childproof lock had been engaged from the front.

Marshal slid into the back seat alongside him and the driver pulled out of the Baldwin's long driveway.

Through the window, Ryker watched as Jennifer arrived and Syn slid into the front seat of her sports car.

Had his friends been in on this together?

Damn it.

This reeked of Syn's doing and he was going to give his friend a piece of his mind.

The big silent man's presence next to him pissed him off.

Ryker huffed, crossed his arms, and turned his face away to stare out the window.

The car ended up at the airport and Ryker whirled on Marshal when it pulled up to a private jet.

"The fuck you think I'm getting on that plane," Ryker snarled.

Marshal released a tired-sounding sigh, but Ryker didn't give a fuck.

"Walk voluntarily or I'll carry you."

"Don't fucking touch me." His hand slapped Marshal flat across the face and the two guards in the front seat booked it out of the vehicle, leaving the doors open.

Marshal didn't even flinch from the slap, so Ryker slapped him again. He wanted to keep hitting the man until he forgot all the shitty things Marshal had done, but forgetting wasn't going to happen.

Marshal caught his wrist after the fourth slap. Shoving the door open, Marshal pulled him over the seat and exited the vehicle. When Ryker's feet hit the pavement, he kicked, aiming for the man's crotch.

With a quick move, Marshal deflected and the hit landed on the guy's thigh. Marshal grunted, but hung onto his wrist even though he was violently struggling.

"Ryker!" Syn caught him from behind and held him.

"I'm not going with him!" he screamed and fuck if his tears didn't start. Before he could hold them back, they trailed down his cheeks. His breath became labored, panting.

"Jennifer and I are going with you," Syn whispered, squeezing him tightly. "Cohen is waiting."

With the words ringing in his ears, his burning eyes held Marshal's across the short distance. A muscle ticked in Marshal's jaw. Regret filled the man's eyes and a sheen made them shine.

He hated the fact that he'd hurt Marshal.

Call him a fucking idiot.

And the only reason he walked onto that plane was because of his friends.

He couldn't trust himself right now, but he trusted them.

"Ryker…" Marshal's voice was tight with emotion.

"Leave me alone," he snapped, buckled his seat belt, and stared out the small window.

He had nothing to say to Marshal.

Hurt and anger were the two emotions he held on to the most.

Love took third place in that lineup.

Love?

No fucking way. It might be love on his part, but on Marshal's part, it was not.

How could someone who loved you lie to you for twelve years?

Ryker wanted answers, but right now, he wanted to see how this played out.

How the fuck did Marshal expect to be forgiven?