Corey
I’m almost at the door when two beefy Guido security guards charge toward me from opposite directions. I break into a run. One of them lunges for me, and catches my arm, his iron grip bruising.
“Boss says don’t touch her,” the other relays with a note of panic in his voice.
The guy releases me like I’m a hot potato but they both jockey to block my exit. It’s almost comical, like some birthday party game where you can’t use your hands to pass an egg to your partner.
I use their abject fear of Stefano’s wrath to my advantage and knee the guy in front of me in the balls. He goes over with a groan, clutching the family jewels. Yes. I’m at Knee-2, Balls-0.
“Corey.” Stefano’s censuring bark comes from a few feet behind me.
I try to dart around the other guard, but Stefano catches my
