Chapter Three

"F uck."

Marshal's head snapped up at the muttered word from his good friend and co-worker, Bishop Rothschild.

"What?"

Bishop rolled his eyes with a sigh and handed over the cell phone.

"I want to see," Rock said, walking into the office of Suwan Guardians.

"I don't know if I want to see," Marshal muttered at Rock.

Rock smirked and dropped down next to him in an extra rolling desk chair.

The triangle video button on the phone screen had Marshal hesitating. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see what the hell it was.

"Just watch it," Bishop grumbled at them and Marshal hit the play button. Rock leaned over his shoulder to take a look.

Lights flashed in the dark room and music blared as young adults gyrated to the pulsing beat. It looked like the exclusive members club just off of Maine Street. The video camera swung upward and landed on the gyrating form of a slender young man with the brightest blond hair Marshal had ever seen. The way the man moved held his attention and then the stunning figure spun around.

Ryker Langston danced on the tables and someone had filmed it.

"Fuck," Marshal growled, squeezing the phone.

Rock cackled and Marshal shot the big bodyguard a glare.

"I don't blame him, he's been through hell," Rock said, leaning back in the chair that creaked underneath the considerable weight of the heavily muscled man.

Marshal pulled a hand down the trimmed hairs on his face. He agreed with Rock that Ryker had been through hell, but dancing on fucking tables?

"It's probably still streaming live," Bishop said, shoving to his feet and grabbing his keys from where they lay on the desk. "You guys coming?"

Hell yes, he was fucking coming. Marshal shoved back his own office chair and snatched his jacket from the peg by the office door. Rock snorted but dutifully got to his feet. All three men headed through a large workout room.

Stepping outside the front door, Marshal made sure it closed tightly, although he didn't lock it. There were enough bodyguards inside the Suwan Guardian building to deter anyone from fucking with the place. Rock hopped into the back and Marshal snagged the passenger seat with Bishop behind the wheel of the custom jeep.

"How come you're no longer guarding Shelley?" Bishop shot Rock a curious glance over his shoulder.

"She's dating a new guy. He has his own team and she doesn't need me any longer. Brick told me to pick Suwan or Cobalt to work at."

Bishop chuckled. "So, they kicked you out?"

"Nah. Shelly said I could still have my room, but a friend was looking for a roommate, so I moved closer."

The city lights flashed by and Marshal's mind went to Ryker. He was all for having a good time, but Ryker was taking it to a whole other level.

"I need to head over to Cobalt on Wednesday to go through some new trainees, you guys want to come with?" Bishop asked, cutting into his thoughts.

"I'm down," Rock told Bishop, and Marshal thought about it for a moment.

He might as well. Suwan Guardians and Cobalt Security were both part of Brick Industries, so essentially, they all worked for the same people.

"Yeah, I'll tag along."

"Oh, thank God," Brandon said, rushing up to him, Bishop, and Rock when they entered the club twenty minutes later.

"Where's Chad?" Marshal growled.

"He got a sick stomach and had to leave."

Marshal wanted to strangle Ryker's two bodyguards. "I gave you guys one fucking job."

"I know. I'm sorry, sir." Brandon ducked his head down.

Marshal zeroed in on Ryker. The young billionaire was still dancing on the table, although the rapid beat of the music had changed to a slower pace. So instead of breaking his neck from a fall, the man was set on seducing every person in the place with the seductive sway of his hips. The glittery top left a portion of Ryker's midriff bare and the black hip-hugging pants were painted on his trim hips, tight ass, and sleek thighs. His body swayed, head tipped back, eyes closed. Next to the table Ryker danced on sat Syn, wearing a similar outfit and sipping at a drink.

The only reason the crowd hadn't swarmed the table was because of Mateo and another man giving death glares to the encroaching crowd.

"Who's that guy?" Marshal asked Brandon and pointed to the man next to Mateo.

"That's Cliff. He's Jennifer's new bodyguard."

Marshal squinted at Syn lounging like he didn't have a care.

"You allow him to do this shit?" Marshal growled at Bishop.

Bishop snorted. "You think I have any say over what Syn does?"

"You're whipped."

"And proud of it," Bishop agreed, smirking.

Marshal scowled and moved people out of his way as he headed through the gyrating crowd. Brandon hurried at his heels like a scolded puppy. Cliff and Mateo both gave him a nod and stepped out of the way when he reached the table.

Marshal gazed up at Ryker. The matte makeup was expertly applied and sealed to the beauty's face, otherwise it would have melted beneath the lights. Christian's handiwork, no doubt. The wig looked so natural it was hard to imagine any other color in its place.

Marshal knew the real color of Ryker's hair and this paled in comparison to the strawberry blond that had covered the man's head before the accident. A scar peeked, barely visible, from beneath the edge of the crop top. People wouldn't be able to see it, but Marshal knew where every scar on Ryker's body was located. After the accident that had almost taken the man's life, he had seen Ryker's medical report on the extensive injuries. He knew the scars by heart.

Instead of yanking Ryker from the table like he wanted to, he closed a firm hand around the man's slender ankle.

Slowly, Ryker's lids lifted and his head tipped down to gaze at him. Blond hair spilled forward, caressing the curve of the man's face. The bone structure that had launched Belle Industries was delicate, the man above him stunning. Ryker's glittering blue eyes caught and held his own.

"What are you doing?" Marshal said gruffly.

Ryker smirked and lifted one finger to his ear, shaking his head—a clear sign that he either couldn't hear him or wasn't listening.

"Get down from there," Marshal said louder, trying to rein in his temper.

Ignoring him, Ryker kept dancing and Marshal clenched his teeth before shooting a glare at Syn.

"How much has he drunk?"

"A lot?" Syn's brow quirked. Bishop stood behind Syn's chair with both hands resting lightly on the young billionaire's shoulders. Syn tipped his dark head to one side and rubbed his cheek against one of Bishop's hands.

"You're his friend, how can you let him drink so much?" he growled.

"Because I'm his friend and I know what he needs," Syn bit the words out.

Marshal's jaw ached from clenching his teeth and he scowled, tightening his hand around Ryker's ankle.

Ryker crouched in one swoop. The man went from standing to resting on his heels and reaching for a drink Marshal hadn't seen. When Ryker lifted the glass of some fruity drink, Marshal closed his other hand around Ryker's forearm.

Very slowly, Ryker turned his head to stare at him.

"What?" Even though the word was spoken beneath the thumping beat, Marshal was so close he heard it.

"Don't drink any more," he answered quietly, holding that searching blue gaze.

"Come home then," Ryker said.

Shit.

Marshal realized he should not have come here. A clean break had been better for everyone and mostly Ryker. And Marshal would have gotten free if not for the fact that the young mogul had almost been killed. The cold fear he'd felt when a cement truck had plowed into Syn's town car carrying Ryker couldn't be described. But it was during that time that Marshal knew he had made the right decision to leave the Langstons a while ago.

"I can't do that," he murmured. Holding Ryker's gaze, his mouth went dry and as always, his stomach muscles clenched in the face of Ryker's beauty.

"Then fuck off." Ryker stood and kicked his ankle free.

Marshal hissed and brought his burning fingers to his mouth.

"Sorry, princess. I can't do that either," he muttered and reached up to catch Ryker around the waist. He lifted Ryker down from the table and placed him on his feet.

"Asshole!" Ryker kicked him in the shin.

Fuck! Marshal hopped on one leg, rubbing his shin with one hand.

Rather than return to the tabletop, Ryker dropped down in a sexy sprawl on the leather seat and tossed one arm around the scantily clad woman in a see-through mini dress.

It was Ryker's new fiancé, Hailey Baldwin of the Denver Baldwins. She was impeccable, had breeding, and was hands-down gorgeous. He wanted to break the hand she slid up Ryker's thigh.

"Hi, Marshal!"

He glanced down when Jennifer wrapped both hands around his forearm and smiled up at him. Of all Ryker's friends, Jennifer was the most tolerable, followed by Cohen and Paige, who had their heads together discussing something on the other side of the table that fit six.

"Hey," he said, and Jennifer patted his arm before sliding back into her seat.

Marshal pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to stave off the headache threatening. If Ryker's father got wind of this, Ryker was going to pay.

Robert Langston was a hard taskmaster among other things and Marshal needed Ryker to keep a low profile.

Marshal glanced at Brandon; he could imagine what Ryker's bodyguards had been through watching after the man all these years.

"Go home, get some rest. I'll take the rest of the night," Marshal told Brandon, who gave a grateful nod.

"He's my bodyguard," Ryker snapped. "I'll tell him whether or not he can go."

Marshal held those glaring blue eyes.

"Okay, then he can stay. I'm out." Marshal snapped right back.

"Wait! Fine, just don't be a buzz-kill," Ryker hissed at him and then gave Brandon a wave. "Go home."

The man booked it out of there as if his ass was on fire and Marshal planted his feet apart and crossed his arms, staring flatly at Ryker.

The lights flashed in the room, signaling the last call for alcohol, and the DJ came over the loudspeaker announcing that after two more songs, they'd be wrapping things up.

When Ryker tipped his chin up and ordered more booze, Marshal wanted to hoist the young man up over his shoulder and give him a good smack on the ass.

Of course, he wouldn't do that.

Because as much as it killed him, he didn't have that kind of relationship with Ryker.