Page 48 of Without Fail

One down…fuck only knew how many more to go.

He could do this. They would all fucking pay for killing Chad. He would take them out one by fucking one. Racing to the panel, he pushed and it clicked open. Sliding inside, he closed the door and pulled his phone from his pocket.

He shot a text to Marshal and then turned his phone to silent before hurrying upward in the secret passageway to where another panel opened into his rooms.

The secret hallways and access panels were numerous throughout the house. He could disappear and come out somewhere completely different and still remain inside the estate.

The place had been built by his family’s ancestors back during the civil war and there were places to hide that the enemy could never find.

The walkways ran hidden behind walls and beneath stairwells, up to every floor, plus down to the basement, and he planned on sticking inside those passageways while he figured out what the hell was going on.

Ryker changed into a black DIOR classic three-piece suit. It might get bloody out there and he wanted to fit in as long as possible. He pulled on a dark ball cap over his head and slapped makeup over the pinkish scar on his face.

Tucking the Glock into the back of his pants, he turned toward the door.

Whoever these fuckers were, they had messed with the wrong family.

Toughness had been knocked into him starting from when he was a little boy.

If nothing else, he was his father’s son.

Marshal glared at the text from Donald and shoved his phone away. He had no time for the guy right now.

All he wanted was for Ryker to forgive him.

But that wasn’t happening at the moment.

Giving himself and Ryker some much-needed space, Marshal pulled into the driveway of his home and shut off the engine.

Maybe he needed to bring in the big guns to neutralize the threat against Ryker—because he had no doubts that while the note had been directed at Robert Langston, the threat had been against Ryker. The young man’s blood spoke volumes. Essentially, it meant that they could get to Ryker anytime and anywhere.

And if Winchester Armani was involved, then shit was about to get ugly.

He ran a hand down his face and tugged out his phone. Should he contact Brick? Tyler Brick owned the bodyguards and while Brick was one of the most powerful men on the West Coast, that fact might not be enough to handle what was coming.

Fuck it. Even if Winchester wasn’t involved in the threat against Ryker, the man needed to be neutralized for Aspen’s sake.

So he called someone who could shut Winchester Armani down.

“Marshal?” Real’s voice sounded shocked, pleased, and sleep-filled.

He smiled at nothing when his friend fumbled with the phone and then cleared his throat.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, Real.”

“Fucking knock me over with a feather. How long has it been?”

“A year. You still in charge of…things?”

There was a slight pause as if Real were mulling the question over, but Marshal knew it was the man’s way of assessing the situation. And even though Real didn’t know why the fuck he’d called, the man had to know it was important.

The former Navy SEAL ran a top-secret government unit known only as Genesis and they answered to the Secretary of Defense. If anyone could rein Winchester Armani in, it would be Real and his team of military assassins.

“I need a favor,” he began just as a text came in from Ryker.

Marshal, we are under attack.

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