Page 93 of Peyton's Price

“I’m not surprised that last wasn’t possible.” Grunting, Liam turned on his heel, dismissing the man. He reached for the phone. “I’m calling Phil about the elevators. Where is Peyton?”

“My guess is she’s stuck downstairs since the elevators are out,” Matthias surmised. She had been wearing her favorite stiletto heels, which would have made the ten flights nine too many.

Liam growled something as a second knock on the door heralded the arrival of lunch. Gerard, the butler, sweated profusely as he clutched a heavily laden tray. Feeling guilty but unable to do anything about it, Matthias waved Gerard inside, directing him to set up the meal in the dining room.

The agent trailed after him. Matthias waited until Gerard had left to speak. “Peyton will tell you herself when she gets up here, but she’s decided to decline your offer of working for Interpol, even off the books. She doesn’t want to get any deeper in your mole hunt.”

Agent Ward smiled wryly, standing next to the chair instead of sitting in it. “You meanyoudon’t want her to get in any deeper.”

Matthias waved him to one of the chairs at the formal oak dining table. “Peyton is no pushover. She came to this decision on her own. Liam and I just back her up as needed. But while she’s a superb programmer, there are many more who specialize in what you need.”

Ward rubbed his temple, betraying the strain he was under for the first time. “Yes, well, she’s the best I’ve found outside the agency. And, as luck would have it, she got in touch with me. I would be lying if I said I had a better option at the moment.”

Matthias nodded in understanding. “I want to get to the bottom of this as well. The Belarus incident was extremely hard on me, not to mention the staff who helped me arrange it. We have a vested interest in bringing this man or woman to justice. But it can’t be Peyton.”

“I can’t blame her for that. It’s a very unpleasant business,” Ward said, his crisp English accent sharpening to a knifepoint.

An unexpected shaft of sympathy shot through Matthias. “It must be difficult, knowing someone around you—perhaps a trusted colleague—is responsible for such carnage.”

Ward stared off into the distance. “I’m quite chuffed about it,” he lied. “Keeps me on my toes.”

“You’ll find them,” Matthias assured him in a quiet tone. “And in her way, Peyton will continue to help.”

“How’s that exactly?” Ward raised a brow.

“I was prepared to search for an elite hacker to take over for her,” he explained. “I employ several knowledgeable coders, but she already had someone specific in mind.”

“Are they any good?” He reached for a bread roll.

“Peyton didn’t give me a name, but she did call them a rock star,” Matthias supplied. “And if she says they can do the job, then they can.”

“If that’s the case, then—” Ward began.

“It’s in the fuckingbasement?” Liam’s raised voice could be heard two rooms away.

They turned as Liam stormed into the room. “Is there a problem?”

Liam responded by swearing a blue streak. Ward didn’t flinch, but his eyes widened at the particularly colorful string of epithets.

“Peyton is late because the penthouse elevator is stuck in the basement,” Liam ground out. “According to maintenance, the last time it was used, it went straight down there instead of the lobby. To top it off, the mechanic has been out to lunch the whole time. I have to go down there and find her.”

“Is she stuck in the elevator cabin or is she wandering the basement?” Ward asked.

“I don’t know.”

Frowning, Matthias threw down his napkin to join him.

Ward stood and followed, adjusting his holster. Matthias was about to comment that a gun wasn’t necessary, but he kept his mouth shut. His life had become something of a rollercoaster over the last few years. An armed guard would be a sound financial investment at this point.

The trip down the stairs was nowhere near as arduous as one in reverse would be. But by the time they reached the basement level, the three men were huffing—mainly because Liam started running down the last four flights. He and Agent Ward followed suit.

They hit the basement like the bulls running in Pamplona. Liam didn’t need to acknowledge his worry aloud for Matthias to sense it. Even Ward seemed to feel the tension.

The mechanic and his assistant had just arrived, and they were unpacking their gear. But the question of whether their partner was trapped in the elevator car was answered immediately—the door was wide open. There was no sign of Peyton. Neither man had seen her.

Matthias had never been down to this level. It was surprisingly crammed down here—the laundry, storage rooms, and enough water heaters to ensure half the city could take a hot shower.

“Are we sure she didn’t go to the cafe in the lobby to wait?” Agent Ward questioned, following as he and Liam started stalking through the warren of corridors in the basement.

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