Double Down Read online Alessandra Torre (All In Duet #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: All In Duet Series by Alessandra Torre

Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Double Down (All In Duet #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Alessandra Torre

Book Information:

The stunning conclusion to the All In Duet... In Vegas, there was one man who was off limits. One man... and I fell for him.
I knew there were risks. Still, I played the game. When Dario Capece called, I answered. When he beckoned, I came. When he broke all my rules, I looked the other way.
I knew there were risks. I just never realized they included death.
Books in Series:

All In Duet Series by Alessandra Torre

Books by Author:

Alessandra Torre Books


dou·ble down

(verb) to strengthen one's commitment to a particular strategy or course of action, typically one that is potentially risky.


I stared at Gwen’s body, her twisted foot, her awkward splay of arms, the pool of blood around her head. Now, she would always be a stranger to me. Why had she come to my suite? To befriend or confront me? Would we have gotten along, or would we have hated each other?

Dario hung up the phone. “You need to leave.”

“Why did you tell them that I—”

He held up a hand and lifted the phone to his ear. I wanted to finish the question. I needed to know why he would call the police and tell them that I was dead. It was useless. They’d discover the truth the minute they showed up here. They’d turn her over, see her face, and know that it was Gwen and that Dario was lying. Gwen wasn’t some faceless brunette. In addition to being Dario’s wife, she was one of the most powerful women in Vegas. They’d recognize her. It was a stupid lie to tell.

Dario spoke into the phone, his voice thickening with a Cajun accent I’d never heard from him before. “I got a girl coming into town. I need you to pick her up at the strip.”

I poked him in the chest, hard enough to get his attention. “Stop making decisions and talk to me.”

He hung up the phone. “You’re going to Louisiana.”

“For what?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, working through them and pulling an item off the ring. “Go to the stairwell at the end of the hall and use this to get out.”

He held up the small grey button. “Go up four flights of stairs and use the same fob to get into the executive garage at the top.”

I huffed out a breath of understanding.

“Take the Phantom and go meet up with one of your bosses. Not at their house, or the casino. Meet somewhere else. Which one would kill to protect you?” He asked the question without a slice of levity, each word weighted in the careful instructions of something deathly important.

My breath shortened as if in preparation for flight. “Either.” They would. Either of them, if it was necessary to protect me, would kill someone. I believed it the day I was followed from Ian’s, and I believed it now.

“I’m going to text you a number. Call it when you get with one of them.” He passed my bag to me. “Is your gun in here?”

I nodded, glanced down at my feet. “I need my shoe. It’s…”

I pointed in the direction of the living room, and he stepped forward, his eyes focused on the Nike, not looking at Gwen. Gwen. His wife. I felt nauseous.


I stepped toward him for a hug, a kiss, some form of comfort.

He moved away, gesturing to his shirt, which was smeared with bright red blood. “You can’t get her blood on you. And you need to go now, before anyone gets here.” He stepped toward the house phone and lifted the receiver. I stayed in place. I couldn’t leave like this. He was sending me away? To Louisiana? He was telling people I was dead? Someone just tried to kill me and forensics was keeping him from kissing me?

Maybe it was more than that. I thought of the way he had fallen to the floor beside her body, calling her name over and over, begging her to wake up. He told her he loved her, told her he was sorry. He had been sorry over us. We had done this. “Dario, I’m not—”

“GO.” He pointed to the door and glowered at me, his jaw set, eyes hard. “Get the fuck out of here. Go to one of your boys and call the number. Now.”

I stepped back, searching his face desperately for love, and was devastated to find nothing. I gripped the Nike, hitched my bag higher on my shoulder, and turned, moving with one socked foot, my gait uneven, my heart breaking as I limped toward the stairwell door.

The key fob worked, the garage easy to distinguish, given the glittering lineup of vehicles. I passed his Bentley, a red Ferrari, a giant truck, and a Mercedes before reaching the Phantom. Dario hadn’t given me a key and I held my breath as I tried the door. Unlocked. Sliding into it, I saw the key sitting in a small compartment in the dash. Surprised at the lack of security, I started the car. Pulling the belt across my chest, I adjusted the seat and hunched over the steering wheel, carefully rolling out of the spot and moving toward the gate.

I made it through the parking garage without hitting anything, and I relaxed a little once I was off The Majestic’s property, the car’s tint hiding me from view. I headed north and dialed Rick’s number first, glancing at the clock. They’d both be at The House.