Love Him Like Water Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Mafia, Suspense, Virgin Tags Authors: Jessica Gadziala Advertisement
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Those cameras, though, if he took two minutes to review the footage, he would see Michael hitting me, taking me.

Then he would come.

I just had to buy myself some time.

I had to be calm and smart.

Stall, if possible.

Then wait for Renzo to come.

Even if this was a coup, there were clearly those still loyal to Renzo. Elian, for example, who’d taken a bullet for me. Cinna, I would bet my life on her being loyal. Rico and Dav also.

He wouldn’t be walking into a trap alone.

He’d have backup.

And he would save me.

Reminding myself of that allowed me to stop trying to take panicky quick breaths, focusing instead on long, deep ones that slowly allowed the fog of anxiety to clear.

The car veered in and out of traffic to a chorus of horns as Michael’s body slid around on top of mine, making my stomach churn, but I fought to stay as still as possible, pressing my legs into the door, hooking my bare toes into the cutout under the door handle, wondering if the child locks were on, if I could use my feet to open the door and… I don’t know… roll out from under him, scramble out, throw myself out onto the street. Dangerous? Sure. But likely a better fate than whatever Michael had in mind for me.

As the car kept driving, I teased my toes up. Then, as the men were distracted by the traffic jam ahead of us, a cabbie and someone in a regular car outside of their vehicles, screaming at each other, I pulled with everything I had.

To no avail.

The door was locked.

There was no getting out.

Hopelessness bubbled up, making me need to blink away tears even as the driver got impatient and charged forward, swerving around the mild road rage incident.

I fought to tamp it back down, reminding myself that it had been worth a shot, that I needed to keep staying that sharp, trying anything that came to mind.

But, unfortunately, it was just one more turn after that before the car ducked into some sort of—very coveted—garage, the driver cutting the engine, then hopping out to yank the door closed, shutting out the rest of the world, so no one knew what was going on as the driver pulled open the door at my feet, and Michael slid out and off of me.

I took my first real breath since before I’d been taken, and quickly scrambled up, curling into myself near the other door, out of reach.

“Just making it harder on yourself,” Michael said, slamming the door, and coming around the SUV.

I didn’t stop to think.

I threw myself into the front seat, stabbing my finger into the lock button on the driver’s side.

Out of the windshield, I saw the driver reach for his key fob with an eye roll.

But I kept my finger stabbed into the button, preventing him from unlocking it, making Michael shout at him as he paced around the car.

It was a temporary diversion, I knew.

Eventually, they would get me out of this car.

And they were just going to be all the more pissed at me about stalling the inevitable.

But I needed a second.

I had to think.

To look around.

Try to find another way out.

There was the garage door, but I doubted my ability to get to it, get it raised, and rush out under it before one of these men caught me and dragged me away.

There was an interior door, leading, well, in somewhere.

That was likely where they were planning to take me, which, undoubtedly meant that there would be no easy means of escape from there.

I watched as the driver came closer, holding up the fob, trying to get in.

I didn’t know anything about cars.

I’d never driven in my life.

But I was pretty sure that a car would start so long as that thing was close.

If he was close enough, could I maybe turn the engine on? Put it in reverse? Back into the garage door?

If nothing else, might that get attention from someone outside? Enough that they might even call the police? Fearing someone had a seizure or fell asleep or had some sort of medical emergency while behind the wheel?

I glanced down, looking at the gear shift, seeing the R that had to stand for reverse.

Taking a deep breath, I stabbed my finger into the ignition button. But… nothing.

I tried again, tapping one of the pedals.

Then, finally, as my foot hit the other pedal, the engine purred to life.

I didn’t waste a second, knowing that it wouldn’t last long if the guy so much as moved away from the car.

I yanked the gear into reverse, and shoved my foot against the accelerator, feeling my belly bottom out as the car flew backward immediately, crashing hard into the door.

I hadn’t anticipated it holding up against the crash.

Or remembered the airbag.


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