The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family #6) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Grassi Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
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“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’ll find someone to come tow the cars and work on them. Preferably out of town,” I said as I grabbed my own phone to look around.

Neither of us spoke again until we worked on our separate tasks. Aurelio went down to get the bag of cash and coffee from my car as I tacked on one extra one for myself, hoping my timeline all worked out, or I was going to have to send Aurelio ahead to handle it for me.

“How was she in the car?” Aurelio asked.

“Numb,” I told him. “And seeing her dad is… complicated for her, so I think it’s not really gonna sink in until we’re back at the hotel.”

“I’m sure you can find a way to help her feel better,” Aurelio said, making me turn to look at him, finding a small smirk on his lips. “Oh, come on. You think it’s not written all over the two of you?” he asked, shaking his head at me. “I don’t care what you two have going on. Just don’t let it get messy, because this girl needs us now more than ever.”

That was true.

And it had been something on my mind too.

Because Traveler was someone who would tell me to get lost if things went south with us before she was safe again. When it would be impossible for me to leave her unprotected.

But, things were fine.

And I, for one, wanted to keep them being fine.

Was it smart when there was no long-term future for us? No. This whole thing just seemed inevitable, though. So I wasn’t going to sweat it too much.

“Hey, angel, how’s he doing?” Aurelio asked, snapping me out of my thoughts, and turning to find Traveler approaching on stiff legs with slumped shoulders.

She looked exhausted.

I couldn’t blame her.

“He’s getting better,” she said as she approached. “They are weaning him off of his meds tonight to see if he wakes up on his own, so they can extubate him. Then… then we see what he’s… what’s left,” she said.

“Well, that sounds like good news,” Aurelio said, checking his phone. “Our car is here,” he added.

“Ours are in the shop,” I said, answering the question in her gaze. Only a partial lie. I just didn’t think I wanted to give her any more bad news about these guys possibly tracking us right that moment.

“Right,” she agreed, crossing her arms over herself. “No, can we just… I’m too tired,” she said when we started for the stairwell.

We made our way to the elevator instead, and I let my arms go around her as there were no more secrets between us, and held on as the panic gripped her then eased as we got to the main floor once again.

The ride back to the hotel was silent save for Billy Joel’s greatest hits quietly crooning from the speakers.

“You want to meet us in our room for dinner later?” I asked Aurelio.

“I think I’m going to do some… research then crash,” he said, shaking his head with a pointed look toward Traveler. Who clearly needed a little extra care.

“Breakfast then,” I said.

“I’ll be there,” he agreed, as he got off on his floor, and we rode up.

“Hey, why don’t you go take a bath?” I suggested. “I will sort out food.”

“Okay,” she agreed, walking slowly toward the bedroom.

Half an hour later, the order I placed had arrived.

And I was going to do something I knew Traveler would appreciate.

I was going to cook her a meal.

CHAPTER TEN

Traveler

I’d been in the middle of a drive-by.

A drive-by.

I was having a hard time wrapping my head around that even as I listened to the bath fill as I pulled off my clothes, watching my reflection.

I wasn’t sure that had fully ‘clicked’ yet.

I’d been dropping off food to a charity when strangers came driving past and opened fire with the intent to kill.

Me.

Because, let’s face it, there was no one else inside that building who could be considered a target.

It wasn’t the first time there’d been a drive-by in the neighborhood. But in the past, the targets had been men standing out on the street, or even the buildings where certain crews lived or congregated, lessening the chance of hurting innocent people.

But to shoot up a soup kitchen?

Jesus.

There could have been little kids inside. The elderly who weren’t getting by on their fixed incomes and needed a hot meal.

They didn’t care.

What kind of monsters acted like that?

And what if someone had been hit? A kid? An old lady? One of the men and women who devoted their lives to feeding the lesser fortunate in our community?

How could I live with myself, knowing those bullets had been meant for me?

Was I being selfish by staying?

Should my next move be hightailing it out of the area? Going somewhere else?


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