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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I was unconscious before I felt any kind of pain.



I’m convinced it was the stench that woke me. The acrid odor of dried vomit that clung to the front of me.

The taste of it still filled my mouth, making another wave of nausea rise in my throat.

I kept my eyes shut, trying to fight the sensation down, not wanting to make any sounds, draw any attention to the fact that I was conscious.

Not that bad things couldn’t happen to me whilst unconscious, but the man had made it pretty damn clear that he wanted me aware and screaming. So I needed to seem as unaware as I could for as long as possible.

With those deep breaths, I could smell something under the scent of my own sick.

Something metallic and tangy.

Blood.

As if my brain remembering the injury made my body react, I could suddenly feel the pain.

The dull, but insistent throbbing sensation across my palm.

I watched the memory like a movie in my own mind, seeing the blade slicing across my palm in a deep, long line.

It likely wouldn’t close on its own.

Then I’d gone and ran that hand across all the surfaces in the prep room that I could reach. Sure, I kept the place clean. But dirt and bacteria could have escaped my scrubbing, and was currently wedged in the open wound of my hand.

Maybe infection shouldn’t have been at the top of worries right then. And I couldn’t claim to know much about infection, but I had to wonder if maybe dying of sepsis would be less horrific than living through whatever the man had planned for me.

How long would it take before someone realized something was wrong?

Hours?

Half a day?

More?

I knew Vega would suspect something almost immediately if I wasn’t home within an hour of when the shop closed.

She would text.

If that didn’t get answered, call.

If that didn’t work, she’d drive around looking for me.

Then she would go right to the cops.

From there, how long until they investigated? Saw the blood in the shop? Found my bag there?

You usually had to wait a full day to file a missing person’s report. But this was Vega we were talking about. She would threaten to sue each and every one of them within an inch of their lives. They would get to work quickly.

Suddenly, a horrible thought burst into my mind.

What if he went back and cleaned up the mess?

What if there was nothing left?

And I hadn’t told a single soul about the men, about the threats.

Would they maybe draw conclusions to Dennis being missing? To Rayna being hurt? Or would they see it all as coincidence?

A pathetic whimpering sound rose in my throat, but I fought it back before it escaped.

If there was no evidence, what would happen?

After I was tortured, that is. Because there was no doubt about that part. He’d been… painfully clear about the whole torture and screaming part.

Another memory came crashing back, making my stomach twist and the nausea to build once more.

Vega.

They wanted Vega too.

A different sort of torture.

The psychological type.

On me.

While they physically tortured her.

Damnit.

Damnitdamnitdamnit.

Tears stung, then slipped out even through my closed eyes.

I couldn’t let them hurt Vega.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I could stop it. Distracting them? Keeping them focused on me instead of her?

If she got the police involved, maybe they would be with her for a while. Long enough to keep her safe.

And, unlike me, Vega would have her self-defense items on her.

Also, unlike me, she’d gone to at least one women’s self-defense class. Where she’d “accidentally” broken the nose of the instructor.

“You’d think, if you were the guy who was supposed to teach women to defend themselves against unwanted male attention would know not to hit on his students,” she’d said when my eyes had gone wide at the information.

She was strong.

Much stronger than me.

And brave.

God, she was the bravest woman I knew.

If anyone could avoid being abducted, it was Vega.

I had to keep that hope.

Because the other possibility was too horrific to think about.

So I took those ones and locked them behind a door, reinforced it, and tried to focus on what I needed to focus on next.

Where I was.

It wouldn’t do me any good to just lie there, eyes closed, oblivious to my surroundings.

I held my breath to hear better, and when I was sure there were no footsteps, no talking, I carefully fluttered my lashes open, peering through them while making my eyes still appear closed.

Wherever I was, it was big.

And it was cold.

I’d known that, feeling the ground seeping through the barely-there material of my lightweight sweater and high-waisted slacks.

I’d dressed in pants for a change because of Cesare. Because I feared he might show up again, and a dress would give him too good of access. At least pants would require some work. Which might give me time to remember that I couldn’t let him touch me again.


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