Page 10 of Tower

Santos eyed the room like he was making a decision.

“I wasn’t asking,” Daniel said in a deeper voice, one that left no room for negotiation or question. If Santos didn’t get moving, there would be hell to pay.

After letting a soft curse out under his breath, Santos reached into his pocket and produced a key. Peter moved to the side to let him open the door, but once it was open, he pushed past him to get inside.

A sitting room. A bit fancy for Peter’s taste with all the tapestry and French decor, but still just a room. So why the hell had it been locked?

“Thanks. We’ll wait here,” Daniel said. “Travis, help Mr. Santos locate his money. And don’t hesitate to help him along if needed.”

Travis sneered. “You got it.”

Once Santos left the room with Travis, Daniel turned to Johnny. “Wait out in the hall and watch for them. I don’t trust that asshole and we don’t need any surprises.”

“Got it.” Johnny went back out into the hall.

Peter inspected the paintings on the walls. Portraits. Each of the same woman in several different poses. The woman bore little resemblance to Azalea. In contrast to Azalea’s nearly white-blond hair, this woman’s was thick and dark. Even her eyes were dark, unlike the large blue of Azalea’s.

“This Santos asshole lives here or owns this place?” Peter asked when he finally came across a small photo of Azalea. A much younger girl when the photo was taken, but she had a bright smile on her lips, her eyes wide with joy, while the woman sitting next to her remained as stoic and serene as the paintings.

“He lives here, but works for some woman. Don’t know much about her, though.”

Peter looked harder at the portrait. A strong familiarity came with her eyes. The little wrinkle around them, he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t place the memory.

Since Ash had dropped out of the businesses his own father had been in, Peter hadn’t kept track of the goings on of the other families in town. Maybe he’d seen her at a meeting or a party somewhere along the line. If that was true, that meant she worked with one of the other controlling families, and what he was going to do could cause more trouble than Ash would forgive him for.

But that fucking door was locked.

When Santos returned with Travis, Santos had several stacks of cash in his hands. “I’m short ten grand.” He shoved the money at Daniel.

“Short?” Daniel arched a brow.

“I checked his room myself. He doesn’t have it.”

“Well—”

“Where’s the girl?” Peter stepped forward.

“What girl?” If he hadn’t tensed his jaw before asking the question, he might have been able to get away with his innocent reaction. But Peter had been watching men lie his entire life.

“The one you have locked up somewhere in this fucking house, asshole. Where is she?”

“She’s not your concern,” Santos said, with heat. Ah, maybe there was more to his job duties than being a dancing monkey for his boss.

“She is now. Go get her.” Peter folded his arms over his chest. He’d wait, patiently, for about another thirty seconds.

“Jackson,” Santos called out, keeping his stare fixed on Peter.

Another man, smaller in stature but not in attitude, appeared in the doorway. Where the hell had he come from?

“Go get Azalea.”

“Santos.” The warning in Jackson’s voice solidified Peter’s decision.

“Now.” Peter gave the direction himself. “Get her and bring her down here.” He pulled out his gun, holding it loosely at his side. “I’m out of patience with you assholes.”

The room stayed silent as Jackson disappeared. If Daniel disapproved of Peter stepping in, he kept it to himself.

A door down the hall clicked opened and closed. It had to be the locked one he’d found. His jaw clenched, but he kept his glare focused on Santos, whose color slowly drained from his face.

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