Page 18 of Without Fail

He nodded. “Yes, I want to help.”

“For starters, you need to tell Hailey to stay away. The last thing you want is her in the line of fire.”

Searching Marshal’s face, he looked for signs beyond the basic order to stay away from Hailey but found none. The man’s blue eyes flickered and turned hard for a moment and then went empty.

Get over yourself,he doesn’t want you,Ryker silently scolded himself.

“I’ll call her as soon as I get home,” he promised softly and after a moment, Marshal gave a small nod.

“And,” the man continued gruffly. “You need to keep a low profile. That means no more dancing on tabletops.”

Ryker smirked even though his eyes stung. “Aw, bummer.”

Marshal gave him a squinted-eyed look, but Ryker saw the man’s lips twitch.

Intimacy filled the air between them and it lingered. He didn’t look away.

“So, you said you’d tell me about growing up?” Ryker placed a hand on Marshal’s arm, but the bodyguard pulled his arm away—his face closing off immediately. Ryker couldn’t stop the sudden hurt that filled him and he squeezed his hands closed.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Marshal said indifferently.

“What do you mean?” Ryker swallowed hard.

“I grew up fast, went to Harvard way too young, and then after that, the Secret Service. Nothing special.”

“Well, not if you explain it that way.” Disappointment filled Ryker, but he continued doggedly. “How did you know how to make that airplane?”

Marshal sighed and a muscle ticked in the man’s jaw. “I read the directions.”

A flush of humiliation heated Ryker’s cheeks and he turned to face forward. Screw this. He pulled back onto the road.

In stoney silence, he drove them back to the Langston estate.

Marshal did nothing to break the tension and Ryker wasn’t sure what the hell he’d say if the man did try to talk right then.

Because he was sure the next words out of his own mouth would be along the lines of…go to hell or fuck off…he wasn’t sure which.

Maybe he’d say both.

Marshal was kicking his own ass two days later when the strained silence continued between him and Ryker.

He was also pissed at himself for the stunt he’d pulled at the Light Bright facility. Of all things to do! He’d kept his distance for years for a reason. Now, that had gone to shit and he had to put things back to how they’d been before his fuck up.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text from Donald Bass, but he ignored it just like he had the numerous messages he’d received since the day at Light Bright.

He’d deal with Donald later tonight.

“I’m out of leads,” Alexander told him, placing an iPad down on the desk in front of him.

Since the Langston bodyguard headquarters was packed with additional personnel, Marshal had taken up working at one of the desks in the tech room where the FNext, BI was temporarily housed.

Lifting the iPad, Marshal flipped through the screen of suspects—five altogether. He thumbed through the list of new staff and a few old ones.

“Next, we need to put a tail on them,” Marshal said.

“I don’t have enough men.” Alexander gestured to Hitch and two other FBI techies who had shown up later that first day.

“I’ll have bodyguards fill it. Work them in pairs, so that means five teams,” Marshal said, shooting a text to Fighter and Jaxon.

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