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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“What’s going on?” I asked, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt.

“Four of them are leaving,” she said, excitement tripping into her voice.

“That still leaves three in there,” I reminded her.

“We could take on three,” she said as I turned just enough to see those four men climbing into a car at the end of the street.

“We don’t know how long they’re going to be gone. Do you want to be mid stealing back your supply only to have the other four come in and kill us?”

Maybe I was trying to sound like I was being the voice of prudence. But deep down as I got up off the couch, I knew the truth.

I didn’t want to get her supply back yet.

Because I wasn’t ready to stop playing house.

And I damn sure wasn’t ready to have Saylor not be a part of my life anymore.

And I couldn’t quite muster up any guilt for my ulterior motives either.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Saylor

I wasn’t going to let a couple of little orgasms get in the way of my plans, of my career.

Okay.

Fine.

They weren’t little orgasms.

They were massive ones.

I may or may not have teleported to another galaxy at one point during one.

You might look at the accident-prone Anthony Costa and think that he would be clumsy in bed. But, holy hell, you would be wrong. That man knew what to do and did it well.

I hadn’t been prepared for the show of dominance, the hair pulling that had my pussy aching, the dirty words that had me almost crying with need.

That man had the ability to make the entire world fall away when his hands and lips were on you.

Then after, when his arms went around me and held me tightly against him? Yeah, I expected to feel trapped, to want to escape. But all I wanted to do was stay right there like that forever.

I was still having that absolutely terrifying thought when I saw movement in my peripheral. Like the universe knew I needed a distraction, and sent it to me.

Though fucking practical Anthony didn’t want to rush in there and get this shit over with once and for all.

I mean, to be fair, the more I thought about it, the more I had to agree with him. Even if I did get my supply back, and took out two of them in the process, there were at least three more of them. And they would know exactly who’d taken the inventory from them. Not to mention killed their comrades.

It wasn’t like I worked under some assumed identity. When they didn’t find me at the warehouse, they could come to my condo. If I wasn’t there, they could get to me through my mother.

We had to do this the smart way.

But as someone who wasn’t exactly patient by nature, all the sitting around, watching, and waiting was kind of killing me a little.

Eventually, Anthony remade the bed and passed out on it, giving me at least a couple of hours not to feel weird about him and whatever the hell was going on with us.

My phone started to buzz on the couch, making me reach to quiet it before it woke up Anthony.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, voice low.

“Why are you whispering?” she asked as I tiptoed through the studio to close myself into the bathroom. “Saylor?” she asked when I couldn’t come up with a convincing lie quickly enough. “Are you in bed with a certain devilishly handsome Italian man?”

“No. I’m in the bathroom,” I told her.

“And where is Anthony?”

“In bed,” I admitted. I mean, she’d walked in on us almost getting busy on her desk, why lie to her about it.

“Your bed?”

“No.”

“What’s his place like?”

“It’s decent,” I said. “But we’re not there either.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Not really,” I admitted. We talked about a lot of things. But I tried not to involve her in my work much. It hurt too much for her. “But to sum it up, we are temporarily staying in a rental studio for a bit as we figure some things out.”

“Is there only one bed?” she asked, voice teasing.

“There’s a couch. Which is where I will be going after we finish talking.”

“Why not share the bed? It’s getting chilly out. I’m sure Anthony could keep you nice and warm.”

She had no idea.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Is it complicated, or are you overthinking it?” she shot back.

“Valid,” I grumbled, looking at myself in the mirror, my skin still a little flushed. When I looked closely, I could see a bit of beard burn on my neck from Anthony neglecting to shave for the past two days.

“What’s the problem? Is he not good in bed?”

“That’s definitely not the problem,” I admitted.

“Then what is it?”

My gaze cut from the mirror, not able to even look at myself when the next words escaped me. “I like him.”



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