Kobe, Bad Blood (Blood Roses Book 1) by Danielle Norman (great reads TXT) 📕

“Seven minutes in my mouth,” she said and pursed her lips in amusement.

“What exactly do you plan on charging for seven minutes?” I asked

“Fifty,” she said, proud of herself. My heart sank in my chest for the young woman beside me. “So, if you don’t want to be with me, and you’re not drinking”—she glanced across the empty bar—“What are you doing here? Got nowhere better to be?”

“I’m waiting for someone,” I said and spun the empty bottle on the bar top, growing increasingly more bored of the conversation by the moment.

“Oh, you’re waiting for Allie, aren’t you?”

I nodded and, for some strange reason, wondered if I could do that trick where you uncap a beer bottle using only your forearm. I flexed my arm and pondered that thought.

“She’s not here today.” she said.

“She’s not?” I asked and set the bottle back down.

“Nope. She’s off.” Missy shrugged, sending her soft pink sundress straps lower down her shoulders, giving me a teasing view of what lay beneath. I looked away.

“Fifty bucks you say?” I asked, and she perked up and slid closer to me, pressing her breasts against my arm.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “But tips are always appreciated.”

“Why did you set your rate so low?” I asked.

“Hey, I think you just insulted me. But I’m willing to forgive you.” She slid hand off the bar top, slapped it on my thigh, and then walking her fingers up my leg until she cupped my groin.

I grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “Girl, don’t sell yourself so short. You’re worth a hell of a lot more than that, or didn’t your daddy tell you?”

Her lips parted in surprise.

“Go home, Missy, get back into school and find a better place for you. There’s nothing for you here,” I said and pulled out a five dollar bill, and placed it on the bar. It wasn’t for Missy but for the beer.

I left Sasha’s and headed to Kobe’s apartment. I still had no clue why she was living here, I wondered what happened to her grandparents’ house she and Jared had been living in.

I pulled in front of the stairwell that Kobe had led me up the other night and noticed the handrail had been broken and was laying on its side. The whole goddamn building needed to be condemned.

I headed for the steps. I grimaced at the peeling paint. It was miracle that Kobe hadn’t been robbed or worse living in a place like this. I quickly glanced around and saw several men watching me.

My boots landed heavily on the concrete steps that shook beneath me as I made my way to the second floor. I was worried for a moment about the structural integrity. Once she and I had an opportunity to really sit down and talk about us, I was going to push for her to move somewhere safer.

I knocked on her faded white door, stained with oil, grime, and God knew what else. I waited, but no sounds came from the apartment.

Before yelling, I paused and wondered if I could call for Kobe or Allie and then decided on the safest option in case someone was watching. “Allie?” I called as I pounded hard against her door. If it drew the attention of the neighbors, they ignored it, which told me all I need to know about this complex. “Allie, open up. It’s Easy.” I ignored the anxiety that grew in my stomach. She was probably fine. Dante didn’t have her, there was no way. I would have heard about it, right?

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my picks and glanced around real quick before I inserted the two thin rods into the cheap keyset and turned. It was pathetically easy to pick her lock, and I desperately hoped that I was the first man—and the last one—to realize that.

The door swung open and hit the back wall as dust particles floated in the air.

“Allie?” I stepped into the silent apartment. The photographs were gone. All that remained was the coffee table and the sofa where we spent our first night together. The fake wood floors creaked beneath my boots and echoed in the stillness. I prayed to God that I wasn’t going to find a body in the back room and slowly pushed open her bedroom door. The room was empty except for a bare mattress lying haphazardly. I glanced into her closet, but that was empty too. Damn it, I hadn’t looked in here the other day to know whether or not she had bedroom furniture or was sleeping on just a mattress.

“Where did you go?” I whispered, but my voice still reverberated off the stained walls. I pulled out my phone and pounded in the four digit password before scrolled through messages until her familiar smile caught my eye.

Me: Where are you?

Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited for her to reply. I let out an audible sigh when my phone dinged back.

Kobe Brogan: Florida

I smirked at her, smartass reply.

Me: Well, thank God for that. I’m at your place. Did you move?

Kobe: www . Google / map

I clicked the link and directions appeared to an address off Colonial drive, not far from Mills avenue. Okay, that was a normal, blue-collar area. It wasn’t the zero-zone like it was here. We called this area the zero-zone because it was probably zero seconds since the last crime.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and closed her apartment door behind me, not bothering to lock it. A few seconds later, I was headed to the address Kobe had sent me.

When I pulled into the driveway, I marveled at the size but something to my right caught my attention. I got off my bike and move toward the filthy, dark gray car that was parked at the building next door. Sure, there were thousands of dark gray dirty cars, but not many that were an old ford with a Mercedes hood ornament. I knew