Kobe, Bad Blood (Blood Roses Book 1) by Danielle Norman (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

I never understood why drug dealers lived this way—they made a fortune, but they couldn’t bother to live in a half decent suburb. They’d spend fifty thousand on cars but never replaced the ratty sofa from 1992.

“Hey there, beautiful,” a man called as I stepped out of the car and locked it behind me. The radio wasn’t worth the trouble of stealing, but still. She may be a junk car, but she was my piece of junk. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on my lap, and I’ll share this beer,” he said as he held up a silver can of Coors Light.

I said nothing. Personal experience with the DT Coyotes had taught me that it was best to keep my head down. Walking quickly past him, I sighed in relief at the cool air that washed over me as I walked into what might pass as Dante’s living room.

“Come on, honey,” the guy called again.

I turned on my heel and relaxed a little at the sight of Crow, he at least knew I belonged to Easton so maybe he would keep me safe. But then again, Crow had his arm around a young blonde woman who had accompanied him and Dante to Sasha’s place yesterday. The couple was pressed against the faded yellow wall, stained by cigarette smoke and years of neglect.

I grimace at the way she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her curvy figure against his body. Class really was dead in this part of the world.

“Here, Allie,” Sasha called and drew my attention as she pressed a cold beer in my hand.

The condensation dripped to the floor. “I didn’t know you’re gonna be here tonight,” I said to Sasha.

“I always come to club parties.”

She looked rough, as usual. Her face drawn in hard lines, her body draped in clothes that were too big for her frame. Years of alcohol and drug abuse seem to prematurely age her, and it left me wondering just how old she really was.

“It’s been a long day,” I said and took a sip of the ice-cold beverage. It was disgusting, I’d never been a fan of Budweiser, and neither had Jared, a memory that left me smiling despite the bitter taste in my mouth.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Sasha asked, her brows knit together.

“I was thinking of someone I knew who didn’t like beer very much. They said that it reminded them of fermented, watered-down bread that had been left in a bottle.”

“Yes, well, it’s nobody’s favorite brand, but it’s cheap,” she said before taking a drink. “If you finish enough of them, you’ll be too drunk to care how bad they taste.” Sasha gave me an unnatural harsh grin and her words were slightly stilted. I wondered how many of these she had this evening.

“But you know how I feel about these things,” she said, her voice gruff once more. “I only serve four types of alcohol: beer, vodka, tequila, or whiskey. They can take it or leave it. It’s no skin off my back.”

I wanted to remind her that it was in fact skin off her back. If her customers didn’t like what she served, they could find any number of establishments that were better than Sasha’s. Instead, I decided to keep that factoid to myself and turned my attention toward the room again.

Crow’s bottled blonde had moved from the wall and was straddling him on the couch, grinding herself against him. It would have left a younger version of me blushing, but I found that the more I was exposed to this lifestyle, the less it shocked me.

“Looks like someone’s getting lucky tonight,” Sasha said, and she followed my gaze to Crow. “Doesn’t bother you does it?”

“What’s it matter to me if Crow sleeps with her?” I asked.

“He might be someone worth getting jealous over. Pretty young things like you don’t last long around here. Not without one of them big fellas to protect you,” Sasha said.

I watched as Crow stripped off his hoodie, revealing heavily tattooed, muscled arms.

“I’m with Easy,” I said, and she smirked.

“I heard—or rather, I saw,” she said and pulled out a pack of Camel cigarettes, then slid one between her nineties style lined lips. “You fucking Easy may not mean much to them after a couple beers.”

My body tensed, revolted at the idea of Crow, Spider, or any of the other DT Coyotes’ hands or mouth on me.

“Whoa,” I said and deliberately looked away as the blonde unzipped Crow’s jeans and freed him from his pants. The man was disgusting but I could give him props for having a decent size cock.

“Oh, look at her go,” Sasha said. “You know I’ve been playing with the idea of having ladies upstairs.” She flicked her cigarette to the ground as a wave of nausea came over me.

“Prostitutes, you want to get into dealing in flesh?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even as I focused on the gray carpet beneath my feet. It was tattered around the edges that met with the cracked linoleum floor.

“Oh, not me. No, I got out of the business a long time ago,” she said with a jut of her chin that told me that she was proud of how far she had come in life. “I’m a businesswoman, you know, and I’m thinking it’s time to expand. Blondie might just be my first employee. That is, unless you want to get in on it.” She gave me a long, slow look from my boots to my hair before she reached up and patted my cheek like she was checking for the youthful elasticity of my skin.

“That’s quite an offer,” I said, not wanting to be rude but also having zero interest in prostitution. “But I’m sorta picky about who I sleep with.”

“Suit yourself,” she said. “Well, damn.” She grinned, and I glanced back over, despite myself.

The blonde had tears rolling down her face as she continued to gag on Crow’s cock. She leaned back long