Chapter 31 Twisting the Knife
Ryan watched her with an easy smile.
Chloe opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. In the end, she didn’t bite him.
“I work, you know,” she said, sounding more hurt than angry. “I’m not a freeloader.”
“What do you do?”
“I own a skincare salon. We cater to clients who want something a little better than the usual places. Business is good.”
“All right. I judged too quickly.” His smile widened. “You have a few redeeming qualities after all.”
It was a poor excuse for a compliment. Somehow, it still pleased her.
He’d acknowledged that there was more to her than he’d assumed.
“Hmph.”
Ryan smiled at her attempt to look unimpressed. Most wealthy young women would have lost their temper with him long before this. Chloe had more resilience than she let on.
A breeze stirred the grass. The sun was warm, and for a while they had the hilltop to themselves.
Below them, Jason was barely containing his anger.
He’d watched Chloe cling to Ryan, lean against him, and hold his arm. Now they were sitting together, talking and laughing as though no one else existed.
That should have been him up there.
Even if he eventually won her over, he would remember this. The sight would stay lodged in his mind like a thorn.
“Marcus. When they get back, challenge him. Put him out of action.”
Marcus nodded.
“Gladly.”
When the food was nearly ready, Jason called them down. Ryan and Chloe took their time walking back.
“Have fun?” Jason asked. “We’ve been working while you two enjoyed the view.”
“Your rules,” Chloe reminded him brightly. “First one here doesn’t lift a finger.”
His smile froze.
Why had he brought that up?
“Right. Fair’s fair. Come and eat.”
They gathered around the food, and Chloe resumed her role with enthusiasm. She opened Ryan’s beer, poured it, and held a skewer to his mouth so he could take a bite.
His looks of warning only seemed to encourage her.
The others watched, their attention repeatedly returning to Jason. Everyone could feel a confrontation coming.
Jason gave Marcus a pointed look.
Marcus lifted a can.
“Ryan. One veteran to another. Finish a beer with me.”
Ryan obliged. They drained their drinks, and Marcus crushed the empty can in his fist.
“How about a little sparring?”
The others cheered before Ryan could answer.
Chloe set down her fork.
“We’re still eating. Can’t you leave it alone?”
“They both served,” Jason said. “A friendly match is nothing unusual.”
He turned to Marcus.
“Remember, you were one of the best. Take it easy.”
Marcus grinned and strode to a clear patch of ground. He beckoned Ryan over.
Chloe was about to stand when Ryan rose and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Sure. Why not?”
She looked up, worried. He gave her a reassuring pat before joining Marcus.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Watch yourself!”
Marcus lunged, driving an elbow toward Ryan’s face.
Ryan tucked his shoulder and raised his forearm.
The blow landed with a heavy thud.
Ryan didn’t move. Marcus recoiled a step, startled.
That strike could have broken bricks. It hadn’t even made Ryan sway.
Marcus attacked again. A jumping kick, then a low sweep the instant he landed, aimed directly at Ryan’s shin.
Ryan’s expression chilled.
There was nothing friendly about the force behind that kick. Marcus meant to break his leg.
Ryan drove his own leg forward.
Their shins collided with a sharp crack.
Marcus screamed and toppled sideways. He hit the ground and curled around his right leg, face contorted.
Ryan lowered his foot.
“Nasty sweep. You could have broken my leg.”
He looked down at Marcus.
“You all right? I held back. You’re the one who put everything into it.”
Fear entered Marcus’s eyes.
They’d struck bone against bone. His own leg felt shattered. Ryan was standing as though nothing had happened.
He struggled upright, keeping almost all his weight off his right foot.
“I’m fine,” he said through a strained smile. “It’s sparring. These things happen.”
Ryan knew how much force he’d used. The bone wouldn’t be broken through, but it was probably cracked.
Enough of a lesson.
“Another round?” he asked pleasantly.
Marcus burned with humiliation. Everyone had seen the result. Asking him to continue was simply twisting the knife.
He didn’t want to concede, but he could barely stand. What was he supposed to fight with now? His teeth?