Page 2 of Without Fail

“I thought you were mad at him.”

“I was. I am!” Ryker sighed. “I mean, I don’t even know why he left. How could he just walk out like that?” He took a tentative sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“Did you ever ask him why?” Syn stretched his legs out and balanced a glass on one thigh. His friend was beautiful, sexy, wealthy, and always well-dressed.

Ryker gazed down at his own faded sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants. He, on the other hand, did not care what he lookedlike and hadn’t for months. It didn’t matter anyway. He lightly touched the scar on his chin.

He knew what he looked like. The car crash that had almost killed him had left his face horribly scarred.

They had been fortunate…it could have very well killed him, Syn, and Syn’s bodyguard, Mateo. As it was, Syn’s driver had died at the scene.

“Ryker?” Syn murmured, drawing him from that awful day.

“No,” he cleared his throat. “I never asked him why.”

“Okay…Why do you want him to come back? To be your bodyguard or something else?” His friend gave him a sly look.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he admonished with a smirk. “It’s not like that between us.”

Oh, he’d wanted more once upon a time with the sexy man, but without it reciprocated, he had buried his attraction.

“He is a hot bodyguard. And damn…that cowboy hat and slight drawl is yummy.” Syn smirked.

“Does Bishop know you talk like that about other men?” Ryker admonished his friend with a smile.

“Bishop is confident enough not to worry about how I describe a bodyguard.”

Clearing his throat, Ryker squinted at his best friend. “Marshal isn’t only a bodyguard; he also has a Harvard degree.”

“Really?” Syn looked taken aback.

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“It never came up? He graduated before we ever attended,” Ryker said.

“I thought he was in the military,” Syn said slowly.

“He joined the Secret Service after he graduated Harvard with an MBA at seventeen.”

“Wait…he graduated at seventeen?”

“He’s a child prodigy.” Ryker smiled at Syn’s incredulous tone.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, no shit.” Ryker waved one hand around. It had been hard to find the Secret Service information about Marshal, but anything was possible when a person had enough money.

“Wait, are prodigies allowed in Harvard?” Syn squinted and Ryker laughed.

“They are. The youngest ever recorded was eleven. I had to look that up,” he admitted sheepishly and Syn smirked.

“I just remember him being one of your bodyguards at your house.”

“Yeah.” Ryker ran his hand through his hair, thankful that his hair had grown back enough to cover his head. If he pulled on it, the curls would cover his ears.

“But you had Brandon and Chad at school.”

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