A gap.
This wasn’t a wall. It was a door, and this elevator opened from the front and the back.
Jesus.
Suddenly the door shifted in front of me and started to open. I jerked back as the silver wall—and secret entrance—peeled back and Banks stood in front of me, her eyes snapping up when she noticed me.
I glanced past her briefly, taking in the massive, dark expanse behind her. There were no room doors with numbers, no hallway, no shitty carpeting...
It was a penthouse.
I turned my glare back on her. “You knew all along.”
She looked at me, her body still and rigid.
I stepped into the penthouse, forcing her to take a step back. “Take me to him.”
“He’s not here.”
But I advanced on her, moving forward into her space with a warning look.
“He’s not here!” she growled.
“You’re a fucking liar!”
“I suspected he might be, so I came to check it out. Again,” she added as I walked past her and took a long look around.
The rooms were dark, the living room curling around the corner and giving way to a library and parlor, with a few hallways leading off to various places, probably bedrooms. There were couches and lamps, tables, and rugs, the whole place set up like a home with a better view.
As I turned the corner around the elevator, I noticed the balcony through the two sets of French doors we’d been trying to get to the other day.
This apartment looked like it took up an entire floor. Which meant it might have several balconies wrapping around all sides of the building.
“How did you get the elevator working without the electricity on?” I asked.
She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “The elevators have a different circuit breaker.”
“And you knew that when we were here last time?”
She averted her eyes.
Obviously.
The lingering scent of cloves drifted into my nostrils, and I recognized it right away.
Damon mostly smoked Davidoffs, but once in a while he’d indulge in Djarum Blacks. The odor lingered, and I would never forget it.
“You had to know I would never give him up to you.” Banks’s voice was solemn. “I know what you and your friends are capable of.”
I whipped around, unable to keep the snarl off my face.
“What I’m capable of?” I asked her. “So, he’s the victim?”
I approached her, done with her one-track mind and everything being either black or white with her. “I was his friend. I always stood by his side, and he’s done nothing but try to hurt us. He’s a threat.”
I spun back around and charged farther into the penthouse, making my way down one of the short hallways.
I darted into bedrooms, taking in a little dust, some ruffled bed sheets, and a dank smell, probably from the place being closed up for however long.