Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(2)
Ryker held up a hand. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Too many people had clearly already hurt the boy, and his tortured eyes probably didn’t give the whole story. A part of Ryker, the part he didn’t like, wanted to walk away and not look back. Not take responsibility for one more person. Not care about one more person since their chances of surviving stunk. He could barely keep Heath from going off the deep end. What if he couldn’t help both Heath and Denver? What if he wasn’t smart enough or lost his own temper and things went to shit?
The kid whimpered, barely, and it was that sound that gave Ryker no choice.
Ryker straightened. Heath was right. This kid needed help. They could protect him in a way nobody had ever protected Ryker before he’d met Heath. “I broke into the main office and read your file after you got here yesterday.” The kid had been abandoned in Denver as an infant and then had been claimed by a so-called uncle who had problems with booze and anger. However, considering the * hadn’t even known Denver’s real name, if he’d had one, there was some doubt there. That was how Denver earned his name, which seemed to fit him anyway. “Your life has sucked so far.”
The boy drew back and then snorted.
Ryker grinned. “Your file says you don’t really talk.” The file didn’t say why Denver didn’t talk, and Ryker wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Denver didn’t answer.
Fair enough. Talking just got kids hit, anyway. Ryker jerked his head toward their dorm. If they could get Denver there, he could take care of the cut bleeding down his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. Oh, it’s gonna suck for a while, and that’s the truth. But in the end, I promise it’ll be okay.” He’d save this kid when he and Heath made a break for it. From day one, Ryker was all in or all out, and he didn’t know how to be another way. If he gave Denver his friendship, his loyalty, it was forever. Heath had been Ryker’s only friend, and if Heath needed to save this kid, then so did Ryker.
A car roared up the dirt driveway.
Ryker’s gut clenched as he noticed it was the sheriff’s dusty brown car.
“Shit,” Heath muttered, kicking the dirt. He pushed back his dirty hair. “We don’t have time to run.”
“No.” Ryker settled his stance, his knees wobbling. The owner of the boys home and the sheriff were brothers, which explained why they both liked to hit so much. “Denver? If the sheriff gets out and starts swinging, get behind me, okay?” The kid had already taken one beating, and the sheriff was known to use his nightstick on rib cages.
Denver didn’t answer.
The car came to a stop, and Sheriff Cobb jumped out. The sheriff was in his midtwenties with way-too-light blond hair and blue eyes colder than a glacier. Probably. Ryker hadn’t ever seen a glacier, but it was the coldest thing he could imagine.
The passenger door opened. “Dr. Daniels,” Ryker said, watching the woman carefully, his sides cramping. The urge to run away was overwhelming, but he kept his body visually relaxed. “Here for more tests, ma’am?” He’d been impolite to her once by refusing to take one more damn written test after a long day, and the sheriff had made sure he couldn’t walk for about a week without puking up blood. Ned Cobb had watched the beat down with a smile on his face, interjecting only once to remind his brother not to break anything because medical doctors kept records.
The woman stepped out, her fancy designer dress looking as out of place in the dismal home’s terrain as a wild peacock would. She smoothed her long dark hair, and her bright red lips pursed. “Ryker. You’ve grown three inches, and it’s been only a few months.”
Her voice purred in a way that made him shuffle his feet. It was like she was seeing him differently somehow, and he didn’t understand his reaction, but he knew he didn’t like it.
Why was she always making Heath and him take written and physical tests? She paid no attention to the other kids at the home.
Then her gaze, a dark blue one, turned to Denver. “I’m here to welcome Denver to the boys home as well as study him a little. Denver, your file says you have a case of selective mutism.”
Ah shit. Another test subject? Why them? Ryker glanced at the kid, who’d sidled closer to him. The kid had good instincts to be wary of the calculating woman. “What’s that?” Ryker asked.
“He doesn’t talk,” Heath whispered.
Ryker bit his tongue. No shit. But they had to hide their brains around the lady who had them take so many tests. Why, he didn’t know. But his instincts were usually good, too.
“I can make him talk,” Sheriff Cobb said, striding around the car and flexing his chest muscles.
Denver swallowed audibly.
“Oh, Elton, that won’t be necessary,” Sylvia Daniels said, clasping her hands together. “I’m sure I can get Denver to speak. Right, boy?”
Ryker eyed the gun at the sheriff’s hip.
Sheriff Cobb’s lips peeled back. “Try it, kid. Please.”
Ryker didn’t answer, but he met the cop’s stare evenly. Cobb was just another bully in a world full of them, and someday they were gonna meet on even ground.
When that day came, only one of them would walk away.
Ryker glanced at Heath and then at Denver. His chest heated and cooled. The only way they’d survive this was if he remained calm and used his head, never letting his temper take over. When he stopped thinking, he was as bad as the sheriff, and now with Heath and Denver counting on him, he had more to lose than Sheriff Cobb did. That had to count for something, right?