The Woman in the Warehouse (Costa Family #9) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Costa Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
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But it wasn’t time to retire.

I had six years left, if everything went to plan.

But if these Czech guys were coming for my business, I wasn’t ready to retire early. At least not as comfortably as I wanted to in a city this pricey.

So I was going to get my shit back.

And then take them all out if I had to.

Which was the plan as I donned an oversize hoodie after I got a call from Keith, ready to do some up close and personal surveillance.

I saw no scouts.

I didn’t even see any cameras.

But, clearly, someone was paying attention.

Because the door whipped open, and a guy who hadn’t been on the damn surveillance videos came out toting a gun.

Then calling out to me.

I had no real choice in the matter.

If I ran around the corner, he would follow. And people, for better or worse, minded their own business in the city. At most, people might video my attack or shooting. I had no hope that someone would step in to save me.

The guy in the ridiculous mini pickup truck was my only real choice.

I’d clocked him on my first trip down the street. Sitting there in a suit with a newspaper spread over the steering wheel. Acting like he was waiting for someone. But clearly, the guy was casing the joint.

But, hey, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

Or, at least, he was a quick ride out of the hot zone.

So I flew at the truck, rolling my eyes when the handle pulled open immediately. Like the idiot was asking to be carjacked.

I reached for one of my guns, aiming it at him as I climbed inside.

“Drive,” I growled as his gaze moved past me toward the man who was, no doubt, now running after me.

Thankfully, the driver started the engine and threw the car into drive before the Czech guy could get any decent shots off, seeming to only manage to hit the bumper as we drove off.

As he drove out of the darkened street and onto the crossroad with more lights, his face was no longer cast mostly in shadow.

And, damn, he was kind of hot.

Fine.

There was no ‘kind of’ about it.

The man’s jaw was cut from granite.

And he had one of those, you know, broody brows.

I couldn’t see his eyes very well, but I got the impression they weren’t brown. His hair was a dark brown that hinted at black, but didn’t quite get there.

There were several butterfly strips holding together the skin on his forehead. Which was hotter than it had a right to be.

What can I say? I’d always been into guys with scars.

“Am I just driving endlessly, or are you gonna give me a direction?” he asked as my feet fought against a cooler in the footwell while I kept the gun trained on him even though he hadn’t made a move for a weapon yet.

“Head toward Harlem,” I demanded, feeling my pulse start to even out now that we were far enough away from the row houses.

“Care to tell me why you were staking out a heavily armed group of Czechs?” he asked after a few silent moments.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re gonna tell me why you were staking them out,” I said.

Stuck at a light, his gaze cut to mine, trying to bore into me, but I knew the hoodie was keeping me mostly in shadow.

“Quid pro quo?” he asked.

“What is this, a movie?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Two people with a common enemy. Seems like we’re better off comparing notes than holding each other at gunpoint,” he said, and it was right then I noticed he’d managed to slide his own gun out and place it on his leg when I’d been distracted by him looking at me.

“Fine,” I said, sighing. “But we’ll do it in a public place.”

“Got any ideas?” he asked.

“M&C Diner on 125th,” I said as my stomach let out another grumble, reminding me that while I’d watched Keith eat and had fed the dog, I’d yet to put anything in my stomach but caffeine and a few bites of food cart hotdog.

“Alright,” he agreed, but he kept his gun trained on me.

I couldn’t blame him.

I had mine trained on him until he cut the engine and we both climbed out of the truck in unison.

“Watch it,” I snarled at a delivery biker as I reached to grab the back of the driver’s suit jacket, yanking him back a step so he didn’t get collided with. “Asshole!” I called as he peddled away without a care.

The driver looked down at me with stormy blue eyes, brows drawn together.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head, then reached for the door.

“Nothing.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Anthony

The diner was a hole in the wall.

But, in my experience, the best food always came out of places with linoleum so ancient that half the color was worn away, hideous red vinyl booths, and artwork on the wall that was bleached from the years of the sun beating on it.


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