The Woman with the Flowers (Costa Family #5) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Costa Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
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Maybe there would have been screaming that gave us away.

But the shock of it all kept the man silent as he free fell through the air, only to land with a sickening crack below, his body bent at an unnatural angle.

Dead.

He was dead.

“Move!” Vega hissed, shoving her hand into me to get me running again.

Then we were, going up one more floor. The one where the sounds were coming from.

No one paused.

I grabbed the handle, and we all rushed inside.

Old crap was scattered all about, bits of machinery that must not have been worth much if it was still around. Or simply too big and heavy to move.

The whole warehouse seemed more like a meeting place than a place of business for this crew.

But not for long.

Because I planned to track down and make every last one of them pay for this.

The betrayal of my family, sure.

But more so, for involving Mere.

The sounds continued, louder now, hisses, grunts, curses.

Rage, fiery and unstoppable, burned through my entire body, making my very vision feel heated and red-tinted as I flew through the line of garbage and toward the sounds.

“Fucking hold her still,” Jameson growled, making my gut twist as I finally made my way around the edge of one particularly large piece of machinery to find the trio.

Dennis, with his hand pressed to his throat, the pressure not doing a whole fuckuva lot to stem the flow of the bright red blood that was seeping between his fingers.

Mere.

It was the only explanation.

Mere had found something and had sliced one of her attacker’s throats.

Pride, unexpected and warm, spread through my body, banking down some of the burning rage for a moment.

Until my gaze went down to the ground, finding Mere on her back, her legs pinned to the ground by Jameson’s knees as he tried to undo her pants.

Pants.

I never thought I would be thankful that the woman had pants on.

I had no doubts that if she hadn’t, Jameson would be a lot further along with his assault.

He was more than far enough along, though.

Her top was off.

Her bra was askew, twisted, exposing her slightly.

I didn’t even realize the savage growl that filled the room came from me until both Dennis’s and Jameson’s heads twisted in my direction.

I flew at Jameson, grabbing him by the throat, lifting him up off of Mere, and pushing him backward until I shoved him against the wall as I tucked my gun away.

I didn’t want to shoot him.

Not yet.

I wanted to make him hurt.

I wanted to paint this room in a fresh coat of his blood.

I wanted him to beg for mercy.

Then I wanted to show him none.

So that was what I did.

He put up a good fight at first, but my anger trumped his survival instinct in mere moments.

My fist kept punching, though. Denting in his nose, his eye sockets. The crunch of bone and burst of blood only seemed to fuel the fire of my rage.

It wasn’t until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I seemed to snap out of it.

“He’s gone, man,” Gav said, tone calm, even, helping to drag me back down into my better senses.

“Dennis,” I said, breathing heavy as I wiped my sleeve across my brow.

“Left him for you,” Gav said, waving toward where he was knelt on the ground, still holding his neck.

He was pale.

Losing too much blood.

He’d die even if I didn’t pull the trigger of the gun I was reaching for.

Part of me wanted him to suffer too.

The other part, though, was aware of Mere’s soft cries.

And all I wanted was to get to her, to tell her that she was safe, that no one would ever touch her again.

So I walked up toward Dennis, watching the fear fill his eyes.

In my mind, I thought of Brio, of all the inventive ways that psychopath would make this fucker pay.

But I wasn’t Brio.

And I just wanted to be finished with this clusterfuck of a situation.

“I hope you made peace with God,” I said, cocking the gun as I pressed the muzzle to his forehead. “Because it’s too late now.”

With a squeeze of the trigger, and the explosive sound of the bullet leaving the chamber, it was done.

Dennis’s body fell to the ground.

I handed my gun to my brother.

Then I turned back to find Vega holding Mere to her chest, keeping her cousin’s face averted, but her sharp eyes were watching every movement I made.

I didn’t see fear or disgust in her gaze, though. Just a quiet sort of understanding.

They had to die.

Taking a deep breath, I moved forward, dropping down to my knees behind Mere.

“Sweetheart,” I murmured, noticing that Vega had already righted her bra and shirt before she protected her from witnessing my revenge.

A part of me was terrified she would jerk away, would tell me she never wanted to see me again, would grab her cousin and run.


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