His to Claim

Present day

Ryder McKay knocked back a shot of Jameson, slammed the glass down on the bar, and grabbed the next one, relishing the smooth burn sliding down his throat. It wasn’t every day your brother was about to marry the daughter of the country’s most powerful man.

The press was calling the union a “marriage made in heaven.”

More like a deal with the devil.

Only in this case, it had been a deal between two devils. Two criminals posing as legitimate businessmen who were likely using their offspring to solidify some kind of pact between the two families. If Keane McKay and Ian Sinclair joined forces instead of working against each other, they’d have the potential to be largest crime syndicate in North America.

It had been years since Ryder had turned his back on Keane and that life. After he’d graduated high school, he’d made good on his lifelong promise to himself. He’d moved out and never returned.

Any conversation with Keane over the past decade had been limited to Ryder’s insistence that his father not contact him again. It had taken several years, but he had eventually gotten the hint and stopped calling.

To maintain his distance from Keane, Ryder hadn’t planned on attending his brother Finn’s wedding.

Then last week, he’d come across a photograph that had changed his mind.

A photo of Jane.

Recalling the vixen he’d spent one wild night with almost a year ago, he licked remnants of the whiskey from his lips and swirled his finger along the rim of the glass. Before falling asleep that night, he’d realized one time inside of Jane hadn’t been enough for him.

He’d wanted more.

Not just sex, but the chance to get to know her.

Crazy thoughts for a man who’d spent his adult life never having sex with the same woman twice.

But she’d pulled a Cinderella on him, fleeing his hotel room in the middle of the night. Other than her first name, he’d known nothing about her.

Obsessed with finding the woman he couldn’t forget, he’d wasted months searching for her. He’d checked with the organization that had sponsored the conference where they’d met. Called other attendees. Combed through photos of the conference. Hell, at one point, he’d been so desperate, he’d hired a private detective.

And what had he found?

Nothing.

It was as if she’d never existed.

His fingers tightened around his glass.

He’d been a fool.

Because now he knew the truth.

Shortly after their night together, he’d realized someone had copied design and software files from his computer. He hadn’t wanted to believe that Jane had been the one to do it—the time stamp didn’t match—but last week, Ryder stumbled upon a recent article online about his father’s foray into the automated commercial kitchen business, the same business as Ryder’s company, Novateur.

Then the photo accompanying the article caught his attention.

It was a photo of the company’s vice president of innovation standing beside Keane.

Jane.

A muscle popped in his jaw as he acknowledged once again what an idiot he’d been that night.

He’d played right into her hands, lowering his guard when he brought her to his hotel room, not suspecting she would stab him in the back while he slept.

Novateur was one of the first in the world to bring “smart kitchen” technology to restaurants and bakeries. Already in business together providing productivity consultations to restaurants, Ryder and his best friend Tristan had formed the company shortly after their discussion that automation was an effective way to cut costs and increase efficiency in restaurant kitchens. Voice-activated appliances, robotic arms, and conveyor belts for restaurants and bakeries—even the smaller, family-owned ones—were now an affordable reality.

Novateur was the only restaurant automation company to custom design and install the technology per the customer’s specific needs—until McKay Industries.

The evidence was indisputable. Jane had been the one to steal the designs for his father.

Had she thought Ryder wouldn’t find out? Or had she thought that changing the time stamp would save her?

In the end, the joke was on her. Because anything she copied was worthless without key pieces of code. That alone should have given him the satisfaction to move on.

And yet he couldn’t. Something about her didn’t add up. He couldn’t equate the woman he’d met that night with the woman he now knew her to be. She’d acted so innocent in his bed, her eyes widening in something that looked like awe as he’d removed his clothes and given her the first glimpse of his cock.

Not that it wasn’t awe-worthy. He didn’t bother with false modesty.

But Jane’s response had seemed…honest. She’d actually flinched when he’d first entered her. Even now, he could hear her husky voice in his head and the way she whispered his name as he brought her to climax. He remembered the sensation of her silky thighs against his cheeks and how tight her pussy had clamped around him when she came.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin with his knuckles.

Since that night, every time it came down to sealing the deal with a woman, thoughts of Jane popped into his head.

And while he could admit he was bit of an asshole when it came to the opposite sex, he wouldn’t fuck one woman while thinking of another.

She hadn’t only stolen his technology.

She’d stolen his fucking mojo.

He should hate her, and yet there were nights he’d roll over in bed and reach for her, only to find the sheets cold.

According to Finn, all of McKay’s essential employees had been invited to the wedding.

Which was why Ryder was here.

Tonight, he was on a mission.

Find Jane.

Confront her.

And get her out of his system, once and for all.

Whatever it took.

Even if whatever it took meant him having to dress in a monkey suit, smile at people he detested, and kiss up to his father. If he’d shown up at McKay Industries, no doubt Keane would have had security toss Ryder out of the building.

But he couldn’t keep Ryder from the wedding.

And Jane wouldn’t be expecting him.

Ryder gulped down his next shot, not even bothering to enjoy it, and returned it bottom side up to the white-satin-covered bar top. Thank fuck his brother and his fiancée had chosen to get married in the city’s only five-star hotel instead of having the traditional church wedding. He’d never make it through the next couple of hours if he had to do it sober.

“Make the next one a double and keep ’em coming,” he told the bartender.

A hard slap on his tuxedo-clad back had his teeth rattling. He didn’t need to turn around to know who had smacked the shit out of him. Finn may be ten years older but he’d never gone easy on him.

“Save some of the good shit for the other guests,” his brother said.

Ryder turned around, relieved that Finn was alone. He definitely needed more whiskey before dealing with the rest of the family. “Thought you’d be getting ready with Keane and all the other groomsmen.”

Although they shared a father, they looked nothing alike. The only thing they had in common was their gray eyes, a trait shared by all the McKay men. Otherwise, Ryder took after his Mexican mother with his dark brown hair and tanned skin while Finn was a younger version of their Irish father with reddish-blond hair. Not to mention, Ryder towered over Finn by a good five inches, something he never let his older brother forget.

Smooth shaven and with his hair cut short, Ryder barely recognized his brother. Where was the beard? His trademark long hair? This guy was a carbon copy of their father. Of course, it had been a couple years since Ryder had last seen Finn. It had killed Ryder to do it, but once his brother had chosen to take a position at McKay Industries, Ryder had been forced to put some space between them.

Finn gave him a wink. “Wanted to make sure my best man hadn’t taken off with some random chick to get his pre–wedding ceremony blow job.”

More like Finn was worried Ryder had again changed his mind about attending the wedding and wouldn’t show. Understandable, since Ryder had questioned his brother more than once as to why Finn was marrying Ciara.

Bad enough Finn had left the attorney general’s office to work at McKay Industries, but to marry into a family possibly even more corrupt than theirs? Finn must have lost his damned mind.

Ryder scratched his head. He had to try one last time to convince Finn he was making the wrong decision. “Listen, I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but—”

“I’m marrying Ciara.” Finn held up his hand, effectively stopping Ryder from continuing. “I appreciate that you’re concerned for me, but I assure you, I know what I’m doing.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Ryder snorted and leaned his back against the bar. “Yeah, because after all, your first marriage went so well.”

His brother shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Marriage is complicated.”

Complicated was something Ryder didn’t need in his life. That’s why he was never getting married. “Especially when your wife tries to kill you.”

“She wasn’t trying to kill me,” Finn mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Greta was an expert marksman. Got me exactly where she wanted to.”

Ryder would never forget the night he’d gotten the phone call that his brother had been shot. Nearly ran off the road trying to get to the hospital, only to arrive and find his brother resting comfortably on his stomach as he watched the Tigers’ game on his iPhone.

Asshole.

“What does your new woman think of the scar on your ass?” Ryder asked Finn.

Finn grinned. “She thinks it’s sexy.”

“Only the daughter of a criminal would find a bullet to the ass sexy.”

His brother shushed him and stepped closer, looking around the empty room in a move that hinted at paranoia. “Keep your voice down, would you?”

Ryder tamped down his urge to chuckle. Fucking with his brother rated high on his list of favorite things to do. “What are you worried about? Someone finding out that your future father-in-law is a criminal or that your ex shot you in the ass when you asked for a divorce?” he asked loud enough for anyone close by to overhear, including the bartender, who stopped his cleaning at Ryder’s words and let out a snort.

Finn only shook his head. “You’re an asshole. Do you know that?” He clamped a hand on Ryder’s shoulder and squeezed. Hard. “But you’re also the best brother any guy could ask for. I’m thankful every day that Dad boinked the maid and fathered you. Which is why I’m going to tell you that when it comes to Ciara and her family, I know what I’m getting into.”

“I thought we agreed we were both getting out of the family business. Me with Novateur and you by becoming some hotshot lawyer. We don’t need Dad’s money and we certainly don’t need his connections.”

His brother clenched his jaw and looked away, almost guiltily. “As long as Dad is still in charge of McKay Industries, we’ll never be free of him. Don’t you get it by now?”

“So you just gave up and figured you’d make him even more powerful by marrying a rival’s daughter?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Finn sighed. “I told you. I love—”

“You love Ciara.” He rolled his eyes. Childish, but appropriate. “I heard you the first twenty times. But I still don’t believe you.”

Ryder wasn’t completely dead inside. He had the ability to love. He loved his brother, Tristan, and an ice-cold beer at a ball game, but as for the so-called everlasting romantic kind of love?

Not in his genetic makeup.

His father was on marriage number four—no, five—and his brother’s first marriage had ended in gunplay.

The odds were definitely not in Ryder’s favor…or his brother’s.

Long ago, Ryder had made the decision never to get married or have children. Both a wife and a kid would be a vulnerability he couldn’t afford. Look at what Keane had done by stealing Ryder’s designs and competing against him. No, Ryder could never give Keane that kind of power over him.

Finn shot him a look of disappointment. “I know you don’t, but I wish you had at least a little faith that I know what I’m doing.” He puffed out his chest and straightened his bow tie, cutting the awkward tension with his smirk. “After all, I’m the big brother. You’re supposed to look up to me.”

“And I would if you weren’t such a midget,” Ryder deadpanned.

His brother grabbed his crotch. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I’m large where it counts.”

Ryder was about to challenge that comment when his brother’s smirk slid off his face and all the joy was sucked out of the room. He didn’t have to turn around to know the source of the sucking.

“Pop,” Ryder said in greeting.

A firm hand clasped his shoulder and a raspy voice, created by a two-pack-a-day cigarette habit, came from behind him. “Ryder. Good to see you, son.”

Too bad he couldn’t say the same.

He waited for the scent of cigarettes to assault his nose and was surprised when it didn’t happen. Had the old man finally quit?

His father moved to his side, giving Ryder a glimpse of the man he hadn’t seen in years.

Always robust and thick around the waist, his father had shrunk to half his old size. Still not skinny, but to Ryder, the difference was jarring. His white hair had thinned on top, showing off the reddened scalp underneath it, and his wrinkled skin seemed especially pronounced because of his weight loss.

He looked…tired. Old. Too old for seventy-one.