Page 59 of Without Fail

“Just being here helps. And showing up when I called means—”

“I know.” Real cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I won’t leave until you get this shit settled.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Marshal?” Jaxon’s voice came softly from the door and he shoved to his feet.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Real, who nodded and finally settled into one of the hospital room chairs.

Stepping outside the room, Marshal pulled Ryker’s door closed and leaned against the wall. His tired eyes met Jaxon’s and he grimaced.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jaxon said.

“Your reaction when I called made me feel like I did.”

“That’s your own guilt,” Jaxon countered. “You took the initiative to move Aspen to a more secure place. I would have done the same thing.” Jaxon laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “My only gripe here is that you failed to call me when it first happened.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, not really sorry at all.

“I knew you were going to be trouble.”

“How so?” Marshal squinted at Jaxon.

“You came from the CIA.”

“That’s classified.”

“Not from me,” Jaxon reminded him, the words ringing true.

“I called my former boss out of habit.” He scowled, making his point. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept a lid on it.”

“It’s not like I’m going to talk about your previous jobs to anyone who doesn’t already know about them.”

Thankfully, the hallway had remained empty and since both he and Jaxon had kept their voices low, nobody was the wiser.

Marshal crossed his arms and planted a foot back against the wall, not giving a shit if he left a boot mark.

“What I want from you is your opinion on who infiltrated the Langston Estate and got away with only five casualties.”

Four of the five dead men Jaxon was speaking about had been annihilated by Bishop and Tanner upon entry to the place. The fifth man had been shot dead by ASAC Alex Channing when the perp had tried to enter the FBI’s room.

Thankfully, other than a few bruises, none of the other bodyguards or FBI had been hurt in the altercation. Chad was their only casualty.

“None of the perps had IDs,” Marshal murmured.

“And no fingerprints,” Jaxon said.

“Which means they work for some pretty powerful people.”

“That or someone who has connections and can hire hitmen.”

Marshal frowned. “You thinking assassins?”

“Unless there’s someone with a grudge against Langston.”

“There’s a shit ton of people who want Langston dead.”

And he was one of them, but he kept that bit of information to himself. No sense in dragging Jaxon in if not necessary.

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