Chapter Six

R yker watched as Hailey put the stickers on the airplane, but the joy of creating was gone.

She did an okay job with finishing up and when she held the plane up for his inspection, he offered her a half-hearted smile. Shoving back from his chair, he left the plane and started toward the door. Hailey latched onto his arm and held tightly as he made his way back through the crowd.

It was easy to spot Marshal in the crush of people and he kept moving until he reached the bodyguard's side. When Hailey tugged his arm toward the exit, Ryker pulled his arm out of her grip. She gave an annoyed sound and latched back onto him.

"Marshal." A handsome-looking man who'd been handing out stickers walked toward them.

"Donald." Marshal clipped the man's name out.

The guy's eyes went from Marshal to him and Hailey and widened slightly.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Donald asked and didn't wait for Marshal to speak, but rather stepped forward, offering Ryker his hand.

Ryker shook the extended hand and smiled, although it was hidden by his mask.

"Ryker Langston," he said. "And this is Hailey Baldwin."

"Donald Bass. It's very nice to meet you," the man said and then grinned at Marshal. "Don't be a sourpuss. I only came to help."

Ryker shot Marshal a glance and at that instant, a hard look of anger flickered in the glare that Marshal gave Donald.

Ryker grew more curious. Who the hell was Donald Bass and more importantly, what was he to Marshal? The guy was hands down attractive, no doubt, with his tall, lean frame, brown eyes, and curly blond hair.

Were they dating? Ryker didn't think so, and even though Marshal preferred women, Ryker knew the man was bisexual.

That particular day had been eye-opening to him. He'd been twenty-one at the time and following Marshal around like a puppy during each college break.

He had overheard Marshal talking to Chad in the rear of the house.

"This is the guy I'm dating," Chad showed Marshal his phone.

"He's cute," Marshal had agreed.

Chad glanced at Marshal in surprise.

"What?" Marshal smirked. "I'm bi."

Two children running by knocked against him, bringing Ryker back to the noisy facility and he swept his eyes over the man talking to Marshal.

Maybe Donald was an ex-boyfriend? Was Donald the reason Marshal had left his employment? The thought sat like lead in his gut.

What about the moment in the closet? Had it all been in his head thinking there was something between them? Thinking that Marshal had wanted to kiss him?

No, and he was sure Marshal had been just as affected as him. Right?

Only looking at Marshal now, Ryker couldn't be sure of anything because the man was a closed book. Damn it.

"I've spoken to Cohen and invested in Light Bright," Donald told Marshal.

The man looked confident in a black two-piece Brioni suit that perfectly fit his frame. Donald reeked of money and power, but Ryker couldn't remember ever meeting anyone with the last name of Bass there in Denver. Perhaps the guy was from new money or had recently moved here.

"Good for you," Marshal growled and clamped a hand around Ryker's forearm. "We were just leaving."

"We were?" Ryker echoed, but secretly thrilled at the sudden possessiveness.

"Yep," Marshal drawled the one word and pulled him toward the exit.

"Bye, Donald, nice to meet you," Hailey called out as she too was dragged along due to her death grip on Ryker's other arm.

When they reached the exit, Marshal guided him out to the parking lot and over to the sports car.

"Sorry, there's only room for two," Marshal told Hailey before he pulled the woman's hand from his arm and tucked him behind the wheel.

Hailey's two bodyguards stood behind her and she shot Marshal a look of loathing.

Ryker was thrilled and tried not to snicker, but he failed. He made sure to school his features when Marshal slid into the passenger seat.

"I'm starving," Ryker said, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.

"I could eat, but let's go home for food. Trying to keep you safe in a crowded restaurant is almost impossible."

"Wait…what?" Ryker shot Marshal a squinty look. What the hell? "Keep me safe?"

Marshal stared at him and Ryker pulled over to the side of the road in a no-parking zone.

"You'll get a ticket."

"I'll pay it," he snapped. "Why do you need to keep me safe?"

"You've seen the extra bodyguards and the FBI."

"My dad told me they were there to handle some business with you."

"What kind of business do you think the FBI handles?"

"White collar stuff. Kidnapping."

"Right." Marshal pulled a hand over his perfectly cropped mustache and beard.

"Tell me right now or I'm not fucking going home," Ryker hissed.

"The family received a viable threat."

"How viable."

"Enough to call in the FBI," Marshal said, staring out the windshield.

On the one hand, it pissed Ryker off that Marshal was deliberately avoiding his eyes, but on the other hand, he wanted to ease the pressure Marshal must be under trying to keep them safe.

"What do I need to do?" he asked softly and Marshal finally turned to look at him.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Yes, I want to help."

"For starters, you need to tell Hailey to stay away. The last thing you want is her in the line of fire."

Searching Marshal's face, he looked for signs beyond the basic order to stay away from Hailey but found none. The man's blue eyes flickered and turned hard for a moment and then went empty.

Get over yourself , he doesn't want you, Ryker silently scolded himself.

"I'll call her as soon as I get home," he promised softly and after a moment, Marshal gave a small nod.

"And," the man continued gruffly. "You need to keep a low profile. That means no more dancing on tabletops."

Ryker smirked even though his eyes stung. "Aw, bummer."

Marshal gave him a squinted-eyed look, but Ryker saw the man's lips twitch.

Intimacy filled the air between them and it lingered. He didn't look away.

"So, you said you'd tell me about growing up?" Ryker placed a hand on Marshal's arm, but the bodyguard pulled his arm away—his face closing off immediately. Ryker couldn't stop the sudden hurt that filled him and he squeezed his hands closed.

"There isn't much to tell," Marshal said indifferently.

"What do you mean?" Ryker swallowed hard.

"I grew up fast, went to Harvard way too young, and then after that, the Secret Service. Nothing special."

"Well, not if you explain it that way." Disappointment filled Ryker, but he continued doggedly. "How did you know how to make that airplane?"

Marshal sighed and a muscle ticked in the man's jaw. "I read the directions."

A flush of humiliation heated Ryker's cheeks and he turned to face forward. Screw this. He pulled back onto the road.

In stoney silence, he drove them back to the Langston estate.

Marshal did nothing to break the tension and Ryker wasn't sure what the hell he'd say if the man did try to talk right then.

Because he was sure the next words out of his own mouth would be along the lines of…go to hell or fuck off…he wasn't sure which.

Maybe he'd say both.