Page 9 of Tower

“You need to pay more attention to the damn details, Daniel,” Peter chastised. “You can’t be the hired gun anymore.”

Daniel’s eyes went wide. “You usually handled that stuff. I’m just filling in here.”

“You aren’t filling in.” Peter stood from the desk. “You’re taking my place with this shit. I can’t be handling collections, keeping watch on the girls in the Annex, and running my fucking club. You wanted more responsibilities, remember? And now you have them.” Peter buttoned his jacket and made his way to the bar. A whiskey sounded fucking good.

“I wanted to work the Annex,” Daniel said with some force.

“Well, you can’t keep your dick out of the girls, so you can’t be running shit over here,” Peter shot back with more authority.

“Like you never fucked any of the girls.”

“I haven’t.” Peter faced off with his longtime friend. “I keep my dick away from the Annex because those girls depend on me to keep them safe. I’m their fucking boss, Daniel. And I don’t fuck my employees.”

“I’ve never once taken advantage of the girls.” Daniel squared off, rolling his shoulders back in defense.

“I didn’t say you did. I’m saying you can’t take responsibility for them if you keep fucking them.” Peter poured himself a drink and threw it back, letting the heat slide down his throat to his belly. “So, in the meantime, you have this shit to deal with.”

Daniel put his glass down on the bar. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t continue the conversation. Daniel would lay his life on the line for the family. He was as close to family as an outsider could be, but he thought more with his cock than his head when it came to the girls. And until he could get that under control, he wouldn’t be in charge of the Annex.

“I could use the distraction, I’ll tag along with you.” Peter left his glass on the bar and went back to the book to double-check the address. He didn’t mention he knew the building. He’d just gotten done giving Daniel a hard time about mixing his carnal desires with business, and here he was doing the same damn thing.

“I don’t need the help,” Daniel said. Peter had ruffled his feathers.

“I know. I need a break from all these fucking numbers.” Peter shut the book and opened the drawer to the right, grabbing the pistol stored there and adding it to his waistline.

Daniel looked him over slow, like he was sizing him up. Peter didn’t let it get under his skin. He’d known Daniel long enough to know he was making sure his boss wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass. Not that he’d done it in the past, but no matter how long Daniel was with the family, he was always suspicious of anyone offering anything in the name of help.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Peter nodded and followed him out. Daniel could take the lead on this. Peter’s intentions had nothing to do with the cash. He had a bigger prize in mind.

? ? ?

Peter followed the three men up the steps to the front door. He looked up at the familiar window, checking for signs of her. The light was on, but no shadows were being cast like a few nights before.

Daniel explained to the asshole who opened the door they wouldn’t be leaving until they spoke with Santos, and the little weasel of a man paled and let them in. Not much protection there.

“Daniel.” A man, looking ten years older than the collector walked into the front hall, arms open in greeting and wide smile plastered on his dark lips. His beady eyes narrowed slightly, betraying his proposed hospitality.

“You remember me.” Daniel ignored the outstretched arms and stood firm. “So, there’s nothing wrong with your memory. Good. You remember the last conversation we had? About a week ago, when we met at Sampson’s?”

Peter let the other man do his thing, while he looked up the stairs, half expecting to see a blond head pop out around the corner to listen. He stepped around his men and approached a closed door on the right.

“I said I’ll get the money, and I will. I almost have all of it, just need another day or two,” Santos said behind Peter.

Peter turned the knob on the door and realized it was locked. From the outside. He looked over his shoulder at the scene playing out. Daniel had it under control, so he walked a little farther down the hall.

“What’s he doing?” Santo’s asked.

“Never mind what he’s doing,” Daniel barked. “You focus on finding the money you owe. Time’s up.”

Another door stood at the end of the hall. It also was locked from the other side. Where the fuck was Azalea?

“’Let’s get out of the hallway.” Peter gestured to the first locked door he’d found. “Open this door, Santos.” He tugged on the knob.

Santos swallowed hard. “Give me a minute and I’ll get the fucking money,” he said with a bitterness to his tone. Like a spoiled child who’d been told he couldn’t have a third helping of his birthday cake.

“Great. We’ll wait for you in there while Travis here escorts you to where you have it.” Daniel moved his jacket back to expose his gun. He wouldn’t pull it out unless more force was needed.

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