Page 48 of Call Sign: King
What an angel Madison was. Even with her husband’s life in the balance, she was thinking of others. As hard as it had been to break the news of Trevor’s injuries, Ryder found it even harder to admit how epically they’d all failed Khloe.
“Ryder… please… tell me Trevor was able to keep her safe.”
“I can’t do that. The man who shot your husband kidnapped my wife.”
“Oh my God, no! Not Khloe too!”
Ryder couldn’t respond if he wanted to. He’d done his duty. He’d let Madison know she needed to hurry to Toronto — hopefully to be here for when her husband woke up — or at worst, be here to claim his body if he didn’t pull through.
“I need to…” he got out.
“She’s stronger than you think. Trevor and I have talked about it often. I know the world sees her as this famous prima donna, but Khloe is so much more than that. She can be fierce… just like you. You used to scare the shit out of me when we first met.”
“I’m not that man anymore,” Ryder choked out.
“The hell you’re not. You are the King. You are Ryder Fucking Helms. You are her husband… her lover… her Dom. She’s gonna be fighting like hell… waiting for you to find her. For you tosaveher.
“I’m heading to the airport, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Trevor would not want you spending one more minute worrying about him, and having met your team, I know they feel the same way. So don’t wait around there. You have more important things to do right now.”
“I don’t know where to start,” he admitted, tears falling down his cheeks.
“Sure you do. You have a kick-ass team spread all around the globe. Use them. Call in every favor. Turn over every rock of your past until you find where this asshole is hiding. And when you find them, I have just one favor.”
“Yeah?”
“Kill the bastard who hurt my Trevor.”
“Roger that.”
Chapter Fourteen
RYDER
“There he is!”
Three words that made Ryder’s blood run cold. Three words any man who needed to live his life in the shadows dreaded when pointed in his direction.
It took every ounce of his waning control to stop from approaching the throng of photographers and news crews clogging up the entire block surrounding the Park Hyatt. They may be doing their jobs, but he knew it was the paparazzi’s unrelenting thirst for salacious gossip on A-list celebrities that had helped put today’s entire shitshow into motion.
Ignoring the shouted questions, “What is your relationship to Khloe Monroe?” and “Who did they transport to the hospital?” and even, “Is it true Khloe has been murdered?” Ryder marched straight to the group of police officers standing directly in front of the doors to the lobby.
“I need to get upstairs,” Ryder demanded, angry at another delay.
“No guests are allowed in or out at this time. The hotel is under a lockdown until further notice.”
“I’m not a guest. I’m…” he paused, unsure just how much the police already knew about what had really gone on here today. Deciding to stick with their cover story, Ryder added, “I own the security company that was guarding Ms. Monroe. It was my men who were injured in the attack, and I need to get upstairs to assist with the investigation.”
One of the policemen stepped forward, encroaching on Ryder’s personal space. “Your team has no part to play in this investigation other than as victims, witnesses, and suspects.”
Suspects? What. The. Fuck.
Ryder closed the final few inches between them, standing toe to toe — eye to eye — with the policeman.
“Let me make this easy on you. I’m going upstairs and joining my team members as we process the crime scene. I have teams of men spreading out across the globe as we speak, waiting for their marching orders from me. Khloe Monroe’s safety is my one and only concern and I will flatten anyone who gets in the way, and that includes law enforcement.
“Now, I’d like to partner with you and your department as there are many things I’ll need your help with, but make no mistake — I’m in charge here.” When the police sergeant opened his mouth as if he were about to complain, Ryder held up his hand. “I have contacts in my phone that could have the President of the United States of America calling your Prime Minister within the next ten minutes and believe me, if I have to make that call, I’ll be ensuring you never work in law enforcement again in your lifetime.”
Ryder hoped the man believed him, not because he was bluffing —he wasn’t—he just hated wasting even thirty seconds on this kind of meaningless pissing contest.
