“We have maybe fifteen minutes.” Perrone worked from home, so his morning jog was the only time Jax knew he’d be gone with certainty. Jax strode over to the built-in bookshelves and began flinging open cupboards, rifling through files.

I checked out the rest of the room. The space was free of Perrone’s nefarious nature—no signs of his thirst for sexual slavery. Deep mahogany paneling decorated the walls. The desk sat front and center, oversized and as masculine as the rest of the study, which reeked of prestige and money. I hated it on sight because it was so perfectly Perrone. Blatantly pretentious with an even larger collection of artwork and antiques than the wretched square box in the underground.

“Rafe, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Keeping an ear out for his father’s arrival, I moved to stand next to Jax. He extended a file to me. “He’s got one on Alex.”

Letting out a curse, I took the folder and turned away. The photos I found inside were all of Alex. Sleeping, picking at her food, staring off into space with that faraway look in her eyes—the look she wore when she was sad, worried, or scared. I shuffled through the pictures, and when I came to a few displaying the naked expanse of her skin, drops of water trailing between her breasts from showering, I wanted to punch something.

No. I wanted to fucking rearrange Perrone’s face. He’d obviously been stalking her, putting her under surveillance, all while dating her.

The sick fuck.

I removed the photos and pocketed them before snapping the folder shut. “Anything on your sister?”

Jax slammed a drawer shut and opened another. “Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, man.” I handed him the empty file, but the chirping sound of an alarm froze us both. A series of beeps sounded, a door shut, and footsteps thumped over polished floors, drawing closer. I pulled the gun out and moved across the room with the stealth of a tiger in mid-hunt. The door shielded me from view, but Jax stood directly in front of the desk, arms crossed, preparing to confront his father.

Perrone stepped inside, still decked out in his drenched running shorts and T-shirt. I almost didn’t recognize him without his trousers, shiny shoes, and air of superiority.

“How did you get in here? I know I changed the codes, boy.” He wiped his face with a towel, and I used the distraction to come out of my hiding place.

“Go take a seat,” I said, jabbing the back of his sweaty head with the barrel.

“You’ve got some balls to break into my home. Into my office.”

“You’ve got some balls to take photos of naked women.” I propelled him forward, and the asshole laughed.

“Found the file, did you?” He meandered to the executive chair, his expression smug, casual, as if he didn’t have anything to fear.