Rogue (In the life of the Rogue Book 1) by KaNeshia Michelle Read Free Book Online Page B

than her face, and he attempted to try out one of my lines.
    The waitress had asked if we wanted anything else and he said: “You.”
    And with that the waitress poured his drink into his lap and strutted away. The moment struck me as ridicoulsy funny and I’m laughing with the idea that I’m going to slip her another twenty before leaving.
    I glanced at my watch. “You think the boys are done with him?”
    Zander paled considerably. “I don’t want to go check, man.”
    “You get a key from them?”
    He took a moment to answer. Maybe he was thinking he could lie to me and he wouldn’t have to go back up, or maybe he couldn’t talk because he was seconds away from puking. Whatever the reason, he finally came to a decision on his answer: he bit his lip and nodded his head, once. 
     
    ***
     
    It’s better not to smoke in a room like this but I do.
    It’s the next best thing to a penthouse suite – large bedroom with a living room area and a wonderful view of the ocean below. The room itself would’ve been gorgeous if it wasn’t for the blood. There was blood all over the couch, carpet – sprinkles of blood drops led the bathroom, like a trail of bread crumbs to lead us home, or the yellow brick road to take us to see the wizard, yet in this case, it was to take us to the dead body.
    “He was bleeding too much so they moved him to the bathroom,” Zander noted.
    I followed the blood trail, too careful not to get it on my cheap shoes. The smell of blood, fear, death and torture hung to the air like an ominous cloud in the sky ruining a sunny day. The meaty part of my fingertips pushed the heavy bathroom door open. It was a large bathroom with a glass shower stall and a three person jacuzi tub, complete with his’ and hers’ sinks. If I was paying for this room, it would’ve been worth every penny. A nice bathroom and kitchen made a house a home. A nice bathroom made a hotel room much more glamorous and expensive.
    I leaned against the doorframe, stuffing my hands in my pockets. The burning cigarette was dangling between my lips, the smoke looming up and burning my eyes. “How thoughtful,” I noted looking at the very damaged, and very dead, Rat in the jacuzi tub.
    If tubs could bleed, what kind of stories would they tell?
    This tub was bleeding. The floor beneath my feet, the nice black and gray marble tiles with the gold trim, was bleeding too.
    Zander tried to surpress a gag behind me. “What’s thoughtful?”
    I took a pull from my cigarette and blew out a steady stream of smoke before passing the cigarette to Zander. “They put him in the tub so he can drain out.”
    The Rat’s face was badly torn apart, his jaw crooked, but his mouth was full – stuffed like he was in mid chew of a wad of bubble gum, his eyes swollen shut, and his nose bent at a horrible angle.
    I took a step closer. Zander grabbed my arm but I shrugged him away. “We gotta touch him at some point, Zan.”
    The Rat’s mouth had my attention. His lips were ripped and swelled. Dried blood crusted just below his mouth like a goatee. A long black, what seemed like a stick, was sticking out. I leaned closer – careful not to leave shoe impression in the blood, and denying the urge to touch him and grab the black stick because I didn’t want to leave fingerprints. I narrowed my eyes, looking closely and then stood back up; I had seen what I wanted to see.
    Zander questioned, “What’s in his mouth?”
    He gave me back the cigarette and I took a pull and let the smoke slither from my nostrils. I considered the question, wondering if I should answer it. Zander didn’t look like he could take much more details.
    Not telling him would be kind.
    I decided not to be kind. “It’s his glasses; looks like they made him eat them.”
    I passed Zander a sheet of notebook paper with the list of supplies I needed for the job over my shoulder. “Get some fresh air then get to the store. You’re going to work the living room; scrub, clean,