Chapter Nine

M arshal 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.

Marshal sighed softly. He'd heard that Ryker was thinking of stepping away from the cameras and letting another face take over. There shouldn't be any switching of models and as far as Marshal was concerned, Ryker was the face of Belle.

Ryker spun on top of the boulder and Marshal felt his heart leap into his throat. He snatched the man's wrist.

"What?" Ryker huffed.

Keeping a firm grip on Ryker, he squinted up into his face.

"It's several hundred feet down there."

"And I'm as agile as a cat," Ryker smirked, then twisted free. The man ran across the boulder's surface to leap across to the next one. Marshal broke out in a cold sweat and jogged to keep up.

Ryker's laughter floated on the night and the slender, agile form fairly flew from boulder to boulder until the man reached a retaining wall. It was there that Marshal had had enough. When Ryker did a tightrope walk along the top of the short wall, Marshal reached up and snagged him around the waist and lifted him down.

Their bodies slid together and Marshal felt his pulse thundering in his ears. He gently pushed Ryker from him and anger filled the younger man's face.

"Just humor me and stay down here," he muttered when Ryker shot him a squinty glare and snatched his hat from his head.

"Humor you is all I do." The man's tongue darted out to lick at his lips and then his cowboy hat was placed on Ryker's head.

Ryker's hands settled on his shoulders and his mouth went dry. What would those lips taste like?

The thought of one sip from those lush lips became all-consuming in those next few seconds and God help him, he would have succumbed to temptation if laughter down near the parked cars hadn't brought him back to his senses.

What the fuck was he doing?

Marshal jerked back from temptation and tried to keep the conversation light. "When do you ever humor me?"

"Ryker, don't do this. Ryker, you can't do that. Ryker, don't go anywhere!" Fireworks shot from the man's beautiful blue eyes as he ticked off the list with his fingers.

Marshal pulled a hand down the cropped hair on his face and squinted down into Ryker's annoyed eyes.

"That's because you're too reckless," he growled.

"According to you, grandpa ." Ryker danced away from him.

Marshal snorted at the light laughter that accompanied the words. He was used to Ryker's mood shifts, but he could tell they'd become more sporadic since the accident. It was only natural after what Ryker had been through.

"I'm not that old," he muttered and couldn't help sounding disgruntled.

"Ten-year age gap, buddy." Ryker grinned and climbed back up on the retaining wall. "That means you were in high school when I was in first grade."

"I didn't go to high school." Marshall scowled. Was ten years too much? And why was he thinking along those lines anyway?

"Oh yeah, that's right." Ryker snapped his fingers. "When you went to Harvard, I was two years old."

Marshal sputtered, marching alongside Ryker when the man started his cat walking again.

Ryker giggled and Marshal was reminded that they'd been here numerous times in the past. Ryker always goofed off while he tried to mitigate any outrageous outcomes from the man's antics. Which was ridiculous at best because he'd never been able to keep a rein on Ryker.

The young mogul was unstoppable. He had the world at his feet and had always done what he pleased and damned the consequences.

Marshal admired Ryker more than any other person and that was what made his task impossible.

"Did you tell Hailey that you're unavailable for a while?"

"We are taking a break."

"What?" Marshal stood in stunned surprise, completely caught off guard.

"Yeah, we are over."

"Come again?"

"I want dessert," Ryker announced, ignoring him and jumping down from the waist-high wall.

"You just had burgers and fries," Marshal grumbled, wanting to fire off fifty questions about Hailey, but he held his tongue.

It really wasn't any of his business if Ryker and Hailey broke up. Was it? No. Then why did he have the sudden urge to yank Ryker into his arms and brand the man's mouth with his own?

"So?" Ryker said, interrupting his musings. "There's always room for ice cream."

Marshal glanced at his watch. "We'd need to leave now to catch the place before it closes." He could have saved his breath, Ryker was already sprinting to the car.

The bell buzzed when he held the ice cream shop's door open for Ryker to walk into the crowded place.

With two scoops for Ryker, Marshal saw a table for two open up and snagged that.

"You don't know what you're missing," Ryker said around a bite of chocolate and mint chip.

"I'll pass," he grimaced, hating sweets of any kind.

Ryker had his free hand on the table while gobbling up the treat and Marshal reached out to lift the man's hand. He ran his thumb over the scars on the back of Ryker's hand where the glass had cut just shy of the man's tendons. The feel of the skin beneath his fingers had his cock thickening and he swallowed back a groan.

Blinking, Ryker's spoon poised at his mouth, ice cream dripping, before the man took a hasty bite.

"What?"

"I need you to be careful." Marshal squeezed the man's slender hand.

"I'm careful." Ryker waved the empty spoon around before dipping it again. "The car accident wasn't my fault."

Marshal sighed, gazed up at the ceiling, and then released his grip. He placed his hand beneath the table and fisted it for a moment and then dug into his pocket. When he pulled out the silver bracelet that Alex had given him, Ryker's eyes went wide.

And for a moment, he wished that delicate silver chain was something other than what it was. He wanted to give Ryker jewelry that he had picked out.

But he could never do that.

Marshal attached the chain-link around Ryker's wrist and brushed his thumb over the silver.

"What's this for?"

"What? Can't I give you something?" he grumbled around the white lie, not wanting the argument he knew would result if Ryker discovered the bracelet's real purpose.

Although the delicate silver with its reinforced steel beneath its shiny exterior wasn't technically from him, Marshal liked the fact that he had been the one to attach it to Ryker.

As if it stated ownership.

Get that shit right out of your head.

He scowled and removed his hand. He needed to remember why he was here.

"You done?"

"No, I just started, geez." Ryker shook his wrist, studying the bracelet all the while taking bites of ice cream. Minty colored cream covered Ryker's bottom lip at each bite only to be licked away every time with a swipe of his tongue.

Marshal watched for as long as he could stand it and then stood abruptly.

"I need some air," he muttered and headed out the shop's door.

Standing against the wall, he lit up a cigarette and drew deep on the end. Running his eyes over the cars parked around the place, he watched as a couple walked arm and arm down the sidewalk.

Flicking his gaze down the other way, he discovered a familiar SUV.

Fuck .

Yanking out his phone, he shot a text message.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Anthony wants a meeting," came the response.

He glared at his phone and the message from Donald.

"Not a chance."

"He's got some new information." The man's reply came quickly. "I'll set up a meeting at Conley's."

Marshal squeezed the phone, his mind racing. The fucker was on his last nerve—

"Whatcha doing?"

Marshal jumped. Ryker's voice surprised the shit out of him and he fumbled with both his cigarette and phone.

When Ryker scrunched up his nose at the smoke, Marshal glared and took another long drag, but he was careful to blow it away from Ryker.

"You only have so much time, you know. Eventually, those things will catch up to you and you're no spring chicken."

"Spring chicken?" he groused. "Where did you come up with that?"

"My mom, she has a whole list of them, wanna hear?" Ryker's smile was impish.

"No. Get in the car." Marshal tossed the smoke and opened the passenger door to tuck a laughing Ryker inside.

Hurrying around to the driver's door, Marshal shot a look down the street. There was no sign of Donald's vehicle.

Marshal slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

He'd set things straight at the meeting.