Page 57 of Without Fail

His dad’s face was bloody and dark red stained the front of his pristine white dress shirt. The man just out of sight stepped closer and came into Ryker’s view, but with his back to him.

He only caught sight of the back of the man’s curly blond head and lean build in his black business suit. Something about the guy niggled at the back of his brain.

How many men were in the room?

Was he going to watch his father die?

The blond man crouched in front of Langston and lifted his gun to press beneath his father’s chin, lifting his face upward.

Ryker’s hand pressed to the panel ready to explode out and shoot them all, but when the criminal spoke, he hesitated.

“I know what you’re doing,” the man hissed. “And you know what I want, don’t you?”

“Yes.” His father’s voice came muffled through bruised lips, sounding shaky.

Ryker lowered his hand when the man stood and walked out. Ryker never got a look at the guy’s face, but he would have bet money he’d met the guy before. Maybe it was a disgruntled employee who worked for his father?

The more he thought, the more questions he came up with.

What the hell was going on?

Instead of launching out of the panel, he watched through the slit as his father used the edge of his desk to pull himself to his feet.

Rather than run to the phone and call the cops, Langston returned to his chair and pulled out several tissues from the box on his desk. Calmly, the man began wiping the blood from his face.

What kind of shady shit was his dad mixed up in now? Who was the guy making the threats?

And what the hell had he meant when he’d said…I know what you’re doing?

All Ryker had was more questions.

Loud noises and popping sounds could be heard filtering through the estate hallways, but Ryker stayed put, watching as his dad did literally nothing but wipe at the blood on his face.

Maybe the man was in shock?

He doubted it.

His father was unflappable, unshakeable, and unfeeling under pressure. It reminded him of the time when he was about ten years old. Their family yacht had been boarded by sea pirates. Not really, but that was the story his mother had told him to keep the nightmares away.

What he remembered of that day was the cold iron control of his father in the face of possible death. He clearly remembered seeing the gun in his dad’s hand, the loud gunfire sounds, and then bodies being tossed into the sea.

It might have been a few years after that incident that he realized his father was not the man he’d thought.

Robert Langston was a cold-blooded killer, an unpunished criminal with a past. A past that Ryker was sure he didn’t want to know about because he’d seen enough.

But now? Maybe he should be clued in on what the fuck was going on. Would his father even tell him? He doubted it.

“Let’s find out,” he whispered to himself and pressed open the panel to step out of the passageway.

Robert Langston’s sharp, piercing gaze caught his entry and Ryker held the man’s eyes across the distance. Nothing but cold-blooded calculation and rage filled his father’s eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“None of your business,” his dad said coldly and continued wiping at the blood on his face and then hands.

“They were looking for me and you have the fucking nerve to say it’s not my business?”

The man was up and around the desk before Ryker could take a step back. Not that he would have. He braced himself and, sure enough, his father’s hand connected with his face.

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