Page 91 of Dangerous Games

Instead of his usual suit, he’s in a nineties tracksuit with white New Balance sneakers on.

Alessio glares. “I didn’t have backup and didn’t know what I was walking into. I was trying to blend in.”

Matteo looks amused. “And you thought an old ass tracksuit would do the trick at a casino?”

“Fuck both of you. Next time you need help, find someone else’s number.”

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” I say as I move toward the stairs with Bronwyn in my arms.

Alessio shakes his head. “Wiz called me on my way over and said he found another entrance down here.” He points toward the door, one of the guys was standing in front of. “Leads outside to the back of the building.”

Perfect.

“Let’s go.”

“Are we leaving them all here?” Alessio asks as he looks at the dead bodies scattered throughout the floor.

“Yeah. They can clean up the mess they caused.”

“Even her dad?” Alessio’s brows raise in question.

“Yeah. He got what he deserved.”

Alessio shrugs. “After you.” He motions toward the door.

Now it’s time to see to my woman.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

BRONWYN

Ifeel the weight of someone staring at me as my eyes flutter open. Everything around me feels soft and light. I almost feel like I’m floating.

“Welcome back, cara.”

My hand feels like ice as Gio grabs it, his thumb lightly stroking my skin.

It takes a minute for me to blink away the fuzziness and focus on Gio. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed. His signature suit is nowhere in sight, and in its place is a pair of gray sweatpants and a tight white tee.

I’ve never seen him in comfy clothes before. Something about it feels intimate seeing him in clothing that no one else does. There’s a new layer of trust.

“Hi,” I croak.

I wince at the sound of my voice. My throat is dry, but for some reason it doesn’t hurt.

Gio reaches over and grabs a glass of water off the nightstand and brings the bendy straw to my lips.

I try to laugh at the purple umbrella he stuck in the glass, but it turns into a coughing fit.

“Drink slowly,” Gio orders as he helps me sit up just enough so the water doesn’t spill out of the cup.

“Thank you,” I answer softly as I release the straw and lay back down.

The room is spinning slightly from the small movement. But even with all that, I need to touch him. I need to hug him. Holding my hand isn’t enough. I lift my arm, but something tugs on the top of my hand, making me hiss out.

“Shit, be careful,” Gio says as I watch him untangle the tiny clear tubes from the blankets. “Aldo put you on a morphine drip so you would be comfortable when you woke up. You had a pretty decent-sized welt on your head, a bullet graze on your cheek, and lacerations on your wrists and ankles from being tied up.”