Page 8 of Tower

Santos’s chest rumbled with a new laugh, darker this time. Meaner. “She’ll never let you go. You’re a fool.”

“My mother wants what’s best for me.” Azalea straightened her back. “That’s all. She’s just a little insecure.”

Santos’s smile faded on the edges. “Bellatrix Gothel is many things, but insecure is not one of them. You’d do yourself a favor if you’d start seeing things that are right in front of you.”

The power of the warning in his tone pushed her back a step, her eyes widened. Santos was a man to be feared, she knew that, could see it in his set jaw and the way her mother put so much of her trust in him to keep them both safe. But she’d never felt his power so easily before.

“I’m going to the park today.”

“I’ll have the car ready. Jackson will accompany you today. I have a meeting.” He opened the door for her exit and, once she stepped out into the hall, he slammed it shut behind her.

A meeting.

Everyone around here had meetings except her.

There had to be more to life than such seclusion and so much dependency. Something electric and alive. Something that gave breath to her lungs.

Like how she’d felt riding in Peter’s car.

Or how it felt when his body brushed up against hers, or when he talked.

Oh hell. She stalked up the stairs to her room to get her coat. She didn’t have time for fairy-tale thoughts.

She had plans to make.

Chapter 4

“Hey, boss.” Daniel walked into Ash’s office where Peter sat at the desk going over business ledgers.

Ash had picked a great fucking time to go on his damn honeymoon. With Peter’s club picking up business and the Annex gaining in popularity in conjunction, there was more paperwork to give Peter a fucking headache.

“I hate when you call me that.” Peter tossed the pen onto the desk and rubbed his eyes. Ash needed to move away from paper ledgers and onto a damn computer system. Computers that had automatic calculations built in and wouldn’t force Peter to have to remember math skills he’d long forgotten.

Daniel paused. “Well, unless you’re promoting me to partner, that’s what you are.”

Peter blinked a few times and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Did you want something or just felt like coming in here to piss me off?”

Daniel laughed in response and finished his trek to the wet bar in the corner of the room. “I’m heading out in a few minutes with Johnny and Travis. A collection visit. I wanted to be sure we had the address right before we took off.”

Peter’s ears perked up. It had been months since he’d gone on a collection call. Since he put his mark on the city with Tower, he’d only been putting half the time into the Titon businesses. Including his collection responsibilities.

His cousin Ash had given his blessing for both the club and his reduction in duties at the house and Annex, but it didn’t lessen the sense of guilt building within Peter. They were family. He couldn’t completely abandon Ash to depend on the other men; they weren’t blood.

“What’s the debt?” Peter asked, slamming the Annex ledger closed and opening the drawer to dig out the one he wanted. Personal loans still brought in top dollar, and Peter didn’t see Ash closing up shop anytime soon. But the money didn’t come in if the clients didn’t pay back the loans with a low interest rate to cover the risk.

“Hundred thousand. Richard Santos. He’s two weeks behind.” Daniel downed two fingers of whiskey and poured another.

Peter flipped to the page with Santos’s debt and ran his finger along the line to his address. Ash needed more secure bookkeeping. A casual looker would see what appeared to be an address book. Names, addresses, phone numbers were all laid out openly. At first glance. But if a cop got his hands on it, they’d figure out pretty easily the phone numbers weren’t real. They’d realize they translated to the original amounts of the loans and the percentages of the interest.

“Here it is. Six hundred North Main Street,” Peter read out loud. He looked up at Daniel then back to the book. “Is that right?”

“If that’s what it says.” Daniel shrugged.

When Peter decoded the address to mean the real address was 300 South Main, he sat back in his chair and scratched his chin.

“Richard Santos? What’s he do?”

Daniel shrugged again. “Hell if I know. He met Ash at Sampson’s, asked for the cash, and Ash gave it.”

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