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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“It sounded like it was weird. I figure maybe they have a headquarters that Elio had shown up at a few times with no answer. Which, yeah, would be odd. Especially if they are a bigger crew. Someone really should always be at the headquarters.”

“That makes sense,” she said, nodding.

“So, Fury has a fear of balloons, huh?” I asked, moving in behind her, caging her in with my hands on either side of her on the railing. Instead of stiffening, she melted back into me. And I couldn’t keep myself from leaning in to press a kiss to the side of her head.

“You’d think one of them had chased her down the street with a machete for how much she was freaking out,” Saylor said, shaking her head. “She’s not a huge fan of skateboards either. I’m kind of starting to feel guilty about leaving her in the warehouse alone all the time. I mean, I know she’s better off where she is now than where I took her from. But she’s always so excited when I come by.”

“No one is making you keep her there,” I said. “If you want her to be a dog of leisure instead of a working dog, then so be it. You can always ramp up security at the warehouse without her there. Does your building allow dogs?”

“Yeah,” she said. “The neighbor above me has like a dozen little fluffy dogs. Take up half the elevator when she takes them down for a walk.”

“So, bring her home with you. Or bring her to the studio with us.”

“That might not be the best idea,” she said. “With how noisy she can be. One of us would be constantly trying to walk her around to tire her out.”

“True,” I agreed. “Well, I doubt we will be in the studio for longer than a week or two. And she’s happy where she is in the meantime. After that, you can outfit your place with all the shit she will need. That way, you can bring her with you to work and still have all her stuff there too.”

“That’s a good plan,” she decided. “You’re very relaxed,” she observed a few minutes later.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because we could be walking into a trap in another fifteen minutes.”

“Eh. When you’ve been stabbed and shot a few times, you kind of don’t get too worked up about shit like this,” I admitted. “You nervous?”

“I’m… cautiously anxious,” she admitted. “I know my job is inherently dangerous, but I’m not usually walking into potential traps.”

“What about when you make deals?”

“It’s with established crews that I can research beforehand. I wouldn’t be meeting up with some random assholes. I know what happens when you do something like that.”

The hurt was back in her voice.

“Is that what happened to your brother?” I asked.

“Yes,” she admitted, surprising me. Maybe she was closer to agreeing with being in a relationship than I was giving her credit for. Because Saylor was way too fucking private to give that information to someone she saw as a fuck-buddy.

“Did you two work together?” I asked, sensing she needed prompting to keep talking about such a sensitive subject.

“No. I worked for my mom. I kind of always figured I would take over the gym someday. Or maybe open another one. But my brother decided to get into the arms trade.”

“Why?”

“He had a friend who was really into guns. Got my brother into them when he was young. Then he slowly started to build a stockpile. Then he started to get himself into debt, and he had to start selling off his supply. He realized it was profitable, so he started to make a career out of it. But… one day, he went to do a drop. And he never called to tell me he was back.

“My mom and I were up all night worrying. And then the cops were at the door. They found his body in an alley, riddled with bullets.”

“Christ. I’m sorry, babe,” I said, hands moving off of the railing to wrap around her. “Why did you take over after that?”

“It started as just wanting to get rid of the supply he had left. None of them were legal,” she admitted. “And he had been storing them in a warehouse with my name on it without me realizing. But then I realized he was in just… in astronomical debt. And he’d somehow managed to get a second mortgage on the gym.”

“How? Isn’t it in your mom’s name?”

“It was fifty percent in her name. And then my brother and I each had twenty-five percent. My mom wanted to make sure if anything happened to her, we could honor our father’s legacy without things getting all complicated in court or whatever. So she sold us each a quarter when we were adults.


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