Page 51 of Controlled

I glanced over at him before scanning the street, noticing the two other SUVs full of several of my soldiers had pulled up behind us. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for the kid?”

Kane cut the engine and snickered. “If you started feeling sorry for anyone, I’d know you lost your fucking mind.”

As we climbed out, the other soldiers taking my lead and doing the same, I glanced up and down the street. There were people walking on both sides but certainly no one was paying attention. “Have three of the men head to the rear of the building in case our friend attempts to escape.”

“Will do.”

I didn’t wait as Kane relayed my orders, heading into the building, walking immediately to the stairwell. As soon as I was inside, I pulled out my weapon as well as a silencer. I wasn’t certain yet what I would do with the man other than interrogate him until he told me the truth. However, I would temper my rage by not causing an unwanted scene of chaos.

I’d left my perfect dancer with several men guarding her, construction workers crawling all over one end of the estate. I’d planned the alteration well in advance of the attack but given my level of trust had been tossed into the toilet years before, I was leery of leaving her alone for long.

My check of the company I’d hired had come up clean, but given I was the master of infiltrating anyone’s organization, I was certainly aware that with the right encouragement or amount of money, anyone could infiltrate an organization, pretending to be anyone they fucking wanted to be.

My anxiety was far too high, which meant my blood pressure was off the charts. That also didn’t bode well for my state of mind. I slipped my readied weapon back into my pocket, hearing footsteps behind me as my men followed.

I knew exactly where I was going. The apartment at the end of the hall was nothing fancy, but it was a location Santos had called home for over three years.

As Kane and three of my men trailed behind me, I couldn’t seem to keep my mind on business, thoughts of Bella continuously slipping into the darkest parts of my mind. While she’d been understandably nervous, confused as fuck, the fact she’d enjoyed the pleasure we’d shared told me that our connection was growing stronger.

It would be fascinating to see how far our relationship grew. Not that she had any choice about it at this point. She was now mine in every way.

There was noise coming from inside, likely from a television set. It was easy to recognize a person-to-person conversation.

The apartment door didn’t appear to be particularly secure, easy to kick in if I wanted. But again, I’d reminded myself that it would draw unwanted attention at this point. Kane moved around me, pulling out his lock-picking tools. He had several skills other than just killing people. For as angry as I’d felt for twenty-four hours, I was able to smile at the ridiculous thought because of a single reason.

One beautiful, innocent dancer.

Kane easily unlocked the door, pushing it open for me to enter first. I’d been right in my assumptions, the big screen television pumping out some talk show. He closed the door behind all of us, my men starting to check the small space.

I was the one who walked down the hallway, hearing additional noise coming from one of the three open doors. When I walked inside the man’s bedroom, I shook my head. Why was it that men were such fucking pigs, not bothering to toss their dirty laundry into a basket or hang up their clean ones? And the dust covering the dresser was disgusting.

I’d been a clean freak ever since I was a kid. Maybe because I’d been the one required to wipe up the blood splatters after a hunt, sharpening the weapons as well. If the items and the area weren’t perfectly clear of any sign of violent activity, I was punished in the same way Styx had been. After two times of being a lazy kid, I’d learned my lesson.

Maybe that’s why when I noticed the bathroom light on, another more vicious wave of anger swept through me. I stopped shy of walking into the room, realizing the sound I’d heard was the actor practicing his lines. And lo and behold, it sounded as if he’d been hired for another Arabian acting gig. What perfect timing.

I slipped into the doorway of the bathroom, almost amused that the large man was in a bath.

Complete with bubbles.

No real man used bubbles, for fuck’s sake. It was an unwritten rule. The only pass given were those trying to impress their girlfriends or wives. Call me old-fashioned. What the fuck did I care?

I sensed Kane was having a difficult time not announcing our presence with laughter. Even the actor’s eyes were closed as he relaxed in the tub, his head leaning against the back, his arms animated.

After another shake of my head, I didn’t waste any time, crouching down beside the tub. It was at that point he finally detected he wasn’t alone, jerking up from the bath, his entire face pinched. As water splashed out over me, an exaggerated deep breath left my throat. I’d chosen not to wear one of my better suits, but that didn’t mean I wanted it to stink like Mr. Bubble.

“What? What… Who are you?”

While Santos asked the question, it was obvious either he recognized me or had some inkling who’d broken into his house.

“Relax, Mr. Abbott. I merely want to ask you a few questions. It won’t take much of your time.”

He tried to act cool, as if he could handle having four men piled into his tiny bathroom, but he was failing miserably. Not only was his lower lip quivering but beads of sweat had instantly formed across his forehead. “About?”

“Well, it’s not for you to ask any questions at this point. That’s my job.” I glanced at the bottles of shower gel, more amused than ever. Ocean waters? Really? Maybe I was out of touch with how men handled their daily cleansing activities.

When he started to reach for a towel, I wagged my finger at him. “Not so fast. I think you can stay right where you are.”

“O… Okay. Just tell me what you want.” Santos shifted his fearful gaze back and forth from Kane to me. My Capo was now leaning against the sink with his foot on the toilet. And the grin on the man’s face could only be called shit eating.

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