Page 23 of Without Fail

“Enough.” Harold curled his lip with disgust and sauntered into the room. “Don’t fuck this up. Langston and Granddad want you and Ryker married asap.”

She shuddered with distaste, hating all men who used women for personal gain. Her family came with a set of old traditions that her tyrannical grandfather refused to let go of.

“Why don’t you marry him!” She threw up her hands.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t if given the opportunity, but then that would get in the way of an heir.”

“I can always be his surrogate.” She moved away from the sofa and toward the window.

“This is more about business than keeping our line alive.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Langston’s raining cash. He has his hand in some pretty powerful deals. Ryker is our meal ticket.” Not to mention, when his sister married Ryker, he’d have the beautiful man under his thumb…and more. Preferably beneath him in a bed. Not even the scars on Ryker’s face could take away from the man’s sexappeal. As far as he was concerned, the scars added character with the added bonus of keeping others away. “So, do whatever you have to do to make it up to him.”

She ignored him and kept her eyes on the landscape beyond the window. She knew what her brother wanted from Ryker and she also knew that she had no choice but to chase after Ryker, a man she had no feelings for.

Life sucked.

Marshal took ahold of Ryker’s wrist.

“Don’t do this again,” he growled, sounding like a bear, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass. When the younger man shivered beneath his touch, Marshal softened his grip but only slightly.

“Sorry. There were some things I needed to discuss in person.” Ryker’s chin tipped up in fight mode, but at least he didn’t pull from his grip.

“I’ll follow you back,” he said and released Ryker to tuck him into his sports car.

He was right on the man’s ass back to the Langston estate, and when Ryker pulled into the parking garage, Marshal followed.

Leaving the engine running, Marshal waited. When Ryker got out of his car, he approached him.

He rolled down the window. “Get in.”

Ryker smiled and got into the passenger seat and Marshal punched the gas.

“It’s getting dark,” Ryker pointed out.

“So?” He gave a quick smirk.

“Where are we going?” the man asked, buckling his seat belt.

“The Ridge.” Marshal shot Ryker a glance and found the man still smiling.

About forty-five minutes later, after picking up and eating burgers at a drive-thru, Marshal pulled down the dusty crater-filled dirt road.

He barely got the sports car parked in the gravel parking lot before Ryker was bounding out of the passenger side door.

“Damn it!” Marshal yelled, irritated that Ryker hadn’t waited. But he knew that waiting wasn’t in the younger man’s nature and never had been.

The dusty lot had a few other parked cars where people were either parking to get busy or walking along the ridge that overlooked the city of Denver. Right at that moment, it was dark and the lights glowed in the distance.

The Ridge was not far from Lookout Mountain park, but was located on the Ratcliffe family’s private land. The place was open only to individuals who knew the owners.

Ryker jumped onto a massive boulder and held his arms stretched out. Tipping his head back, the man gazed up at the cloud-filled sky.

Sauntering closer, Marshal kept a hawk’s eye on Ryker. His slender body poised on the rock as if he was part of nature. The wig he wore today was midnight black and set off his pale, luminous skin. Ryker had forgone wearing the surgical mask and Marshal ran his eyes over the billionaire’s pure bone structure.

He knew Ryker was worried about the Belle brand, but with the right cosmetics and filters, Ryker should be able to go right back to handling all the promotional photography.

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