Page 61 of Without Fail

The club lights were low and Marshal stood just inside letting his eyes adjust until he could see around the lowly lit room. Spotting Donald at a booth in the far back, he made his way over and took a seat opposite the guy.

Donald looked tired, like he had been running on fumes for far too long. The man swallowed half the glass of liquor he held in his hand before pointing to a second glass on the table.

“Anthony will be here any minute,” Donald mumbled into his glass.

Clenching his jaw, Marshal lifted the glass and tossed back half the liquid. The expensive scotch bit at his tongue, but felt smooth going down.

“Called in the big guns?” He lifted one eyebrow.

The man snorted. “You’ve only yourself to blame. You promised to end shit before you quit last time.”

“Look, I no longer work for the agency.” Marshal kept his voice low. “I took out Cramer’s second-in-command. You and Anthony can take out Armani and Langston. Just leave Ryker out of it.”

“That’s not possible,” Anthony said, appearing as if out of nowhere.

The CIA agent slid into the booth, caging him in so he had to scoot the fuck over. He scowled at his former boss.

“Ryker knows nothing about his father’s business,” Marshal told Anthony.

“He took money from his grandfather’s estate to start his cosmetic business,” Anthony reminded him.

“That money was left to him when his grandfather passed away.”

“That money is dirty, just like the rest of the family,” Anthony snapped.

“Ryker doesn’t know that. And you don’t know if his grandfather was involved,” Marshal growled right back, squeezing the glass.

“So, youthinkhe doesn’t know,” the man returned and held up a finger when the waitress made her rounds. After Anthony ordered, he turned on him.

“I know him,” Marshal glared. “He doesn’t know what his father does.”

Anthony gave an irritated sigh. “Let’s talk about the fact that you are back at the Langston estate.”

“So?”

“Get me the flash drive in Langston’s safe. That will give us concrete evidence to take down Cramer.”

“Nobody gets in that safe but Langston. You know that.”

“My sources say that Ryker has the combination.”

Marshal sipped at his drink and then squinted when something dawned on him. “Did you send that threat with Ryker’s blood on it?”

“How else was I supposed to get you to go back?”

“Motherfucker. I called in the FBI,” he snarled and tossed back the liquor in his glass.

“I know, I talked to Alexander. Calling them in made everything look legit.”

Marshal didn’t like Anthony’s smile. “Do you have someone on Alex’s team?”

“Of course I do.”

Fucking Alexander. The man hadn’t said a word, but then why would he? Marshal had quit the CIA when he walked away from the Langstons. It irritated him, though. He considered Alexander Channing a friend, but he couldn’t blame the guy for not talking.

“Who works for you?” He squinted at Anthony. “Hitch? Or is it Alex?”

“I can’t disclose that information. You’re no longer a part of us.” Anthony sipped at his drink.

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