Ryan Church looked up from the documents he was reviewing and managed to avoid the long sigh that threatened. Ian Taggart stood in his office doorway, a frown on his face. The frown wasn’t a surprise. Ryan was pretty sure the big bastard never smiled. The fact that he was standing there, requesting a talk, was new. Ian Taggart almost never talked to him unless something had gone spectacularly wrong. “What do you need, Mr. Taggart?” Cool blue eyes rolled and Ian stalked across the office like the predatory animal he was. Ryan had worked with sharks before, but none of those Wall Street assholes ever made him wary the way Taggart did. Those businessmen might be ruthless when it came to contracts and lawsuits, but Ryan was pretty sure Taggart had more than metaphorical blood on his hands. Yet, despite the man’s intimidation factor, he was one of the most honest men Ryan had ever met. And that damn straight meant something to him. “You know you’ve been managing this club for almost a year now.
