Page 33 of The Players

Despite the terrible night, she found herself smiling. “Don’t worry. Your asshole persona is still intact. I won’t tell anyone that underneath that grouchiness, you’re actually human.”

“Good. As long as we have an understanding.”

“So… crazy, right, what happened out there? I didn’t see Elena and Viking anymore. Are they all right?”

“Yeah. Morelli’s bitch is back where she belongs.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she sighed. “Back with her husband? Six feet under? I can’t read your mind, you know.”

“She’s alive.”

He didn’t sound particularly happy about that. Apparently, that was all she was going to get from him.

“I saw what happened to the kitchen staff.” Just thinking about the bodies again made her stomach roll. “I hope everyone else was okay?”

Sy’s eyes turned to shards of ice. “They’ll pay. Both of them. Everyone knows Flux is neutral territory. You don’t start a fucking shoot-out in a club full of people. It’s bad for business.”

He got up and examined his shoulder. “You’re not half-bad at patching me up.” He glanced sideways at her. “You’re not bad at wielding a whip either.”

“I’m excellent at wielding it.”

She glanced at his upper arm where she could see the damage her whip had done. His flesh had turned a purple-blue. Shame filled her. She’d done to him what Franco had done to her multiple times. Granted, it happened in a spur of panic, and at the time, she’d believed he wanted to hurt her, but still.

She rose on her feet and touched his wound. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t even apologize for hurting you.”

“Little thing like you can’t really hurt me anyway.”

“Thanks. I feel so much better now,” she said dryly. When he blinked, a crease formed between his eyes and she remembered the second reason she’d wanted him out of that bathroom. “You might have a concussion.” After all, he’d gotten a blow to the head.

“Yeah, and how would you know that?”

She shrugged. “I know the signs.” No way was she getting into her history of pain with Franco. Memories that hurt were better off locked up in a deep, dark vault inside her core, never to resurface.

His gaze held hers for the longest moment, heating up her face. And her body. How was it that this man, whom she’d known for less than a day, had penetrated through her wall? What was it about him that made her want to ask him to wrap his big arms around her?

Only one time before had she followed her heart.

Remember where that got you…

Right into Franco’s web.

Nope. She couldn’t rely on Sy, no matter if she was attracted to him, no matter if he felt like a safe haven.

A brief expression of disappointment flashed on Sy’s face. Then he turned his back on her and walked away. There had been a challenge in his eyes, and for some reason, she felt like she had failed.

After taking a long, hot shower, she rummaged her room for pj’s. All she found was a bunch of see-through, silk negligees with the tags still on. Not having any other option, she put on a black, lace teddy, all the while cursing Vince. The man seemed determined to turn her into his mistress. But that was a battle for another day. Right now, she had a more pressing issue on her mind. Luckily, the negligee came with a matching thigh-high robe. After putting a knot around her waist, she walked over to Sy’s room. He didn’t call her in when she knocked on the door. Her second knock was ignored as well, making her anxious. What if…

Not wasting another second, she burst inside and stared right into the barrel of a gun.

When Sy saw it was her, he cursed and put the piece back on the nightstand. “Never storm inside like that again,” he growled.

“I’m sorry.”

He perked up. “Then again, dressed like that, come inside anytime you want.”

She planted her butt in the recliner next to his bed. “As I said, you might have a concussion. I’ll stay with you while you sleep and wake you every hour.”

He put his arms behind his head and smiled. “In that chair? All night long?”

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