Page 66 of Protecting his Secrets

“I can’t get hold of Rye. We got another email. We need to find him. He’s not answering his phone. Where is he, Felix?”

Images bombarded him, and he cradled his head, staring at his phone. Where was he? He kept dialling, religiously lifting it to his ear to hear it connect, but Rye’s voicemail was all he heard. Not the real-life, alive version of his brother. A recorded message that wasn’t enough reassurance. He needed…something. Anything.

“What’s wrong?” Rye’s voice broke through Nick’s internal dialogue.

“Rye?”

“Yes, what’s happened? Why are you blowing up my phone while I’m in a meeting?”

Nick’s entire body deflated, and he exhaled, barely able to breathe. “I was worried,” was all he could say.

Rye sighed in his ear. “I’m fine, Nick. I’m—ahh!”

A sharp sound echoed through the phone, and Nick frowned. “What was that? It sounded like—Rye? Rye!” He stood, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Rye!” He heard people talking and shouting down the line, but no one took the phone and told him what was going on. He stared at Malachi. “He’s at work, Kai,” he whispered. “He’s safe at work, right?”

“Fuck.”

A murmured curse hit his ears, and he glanced at Felix, who lifted his gaze to Nick.

“What is it?” he croaked.

Felix glanced at Malachi and then back at him. “There’s been a shooting.”

A stone settled in Nick’s stomach. “Where?” He knew where.

“Rye’s office. Two dead, three wounded.”

Nick’s knees locked to keep him upright. “Who’s dead, Felix?”

Felix hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“WHO’S DEAD?”

“I don’t know!” Felix shouted, pounding at his keyboard.

Nick turned and ran, ignoring the shouts from behind him and the pain shooting through his calf. He raced through the corridors to outside and his car. He unlocked it, climbing into the driver’s seat and slamming the door, before starting the engine. Before he could drive off, the passenger door opened, and Malachi slid in, followed by the back doors, with Owen and Colt joining them. He didn’t argue, just slammed his foot on the accelerator and headed for Rye’s office.

He didn’t hear the conversation in the car, though he knew they were talking. All he could focus on was getting to his brother. If the panic was half of what Malachi had felt earlier that day when he was racing to find Nick or when he was worried about his family, he could understand how terrified he’d been. The not knowing was the worst thing about it all. If he knew oneway or the other, maybe he could figure out how to act, what to feel.

Breaking far too many speed limits, he finally abandoned the car down the cordoned-off street leading to Rye’s workplace. He went under the tape and headed for the paramedics and ambulances.

“Sir! You can’t be here! You need to get back behind the tape!”

Nick ignored him, seeing gurneys being wheeled out of the door, two with blankets completely covering them. He stopped. He wasn’t sure he could know now he was there.

“Nick, he’s over here,” Malachi said, touching his arm.

Nick blinked and focused on where Malachi pointed. He could see Rye’s face. Glancing over at the other gurneys, he breathed easier. He couldseeRye’s face. Of the six gurneys, two were covered completely, and he couldseeRye’s face. Rye was wounded. Rye wasn’t dead.

He went over, legs trembling with every step. “Rye?” he whispered.

Rye’s eyelids were dark against his pale skin, and Nick leaned forward. A gauze dressing covered his chest, red seeping through.

“Excuse me. Who are you?” a paramedic said, pressing a hand to Nick’s chest and pushing him away.

“I’m his brother,” he growled, pushing right back.

She let go. “Sorry.”

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