Tattoo Thief (BOOK 1) by Heidi Joy Tretheway Read Free Book Online

apartment?”
    He reaches for my camping backpack and I nearly cry with happiness.
    “I was actually here earlier, sorting out some of his things. With Keystone Property Management,” I wheeze.
    “Of course,” he says as he walks me across the marble-tiled lobby. “I saw it in the log.” He leans across the reception desk to sign me in again and hands me a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge tucked behind the desk.
    “Not to be forward, Charles, but I think I love you.” I guzzle half the bottle in the few seconds it takes for the elevator to arrive.
    “And I love you, too, Ms. Sutton,” he says. “For breaking Jasper out of jail, and for taking care of Mr. Slater. We’re pals.”
    I don’t ask, but I think he means the dog, not the rock star.
    I unlock Gavin’s apartment and again I’m hit with that smell—mildew, old garbage, rancid food, leftover beer, and ashtrays. Charles seems not to notice, unhitching Jasper from his leash and filling one of the two stainless bowls on the kitchen floor with water. Jasper laps it up like a cat.
    “Where would you like the suitcase?” he asks.
    I shrug—I have no idea yet where I’m sleeping, or even if I can find clean sheets in this nasty mess. But there are a bunch of rooms I still haven’t explored, so I tell him to just leave That Bitch in the foyer for now.
    “Do you—” he starts, and fidgets. “Do you have any news on when Mr. Slater might be back from his trip?”
    “I don’t even know where he is,” I admit. “But I’m taking care of this …” Hellhole? Dump? Glorious untouchable penthouse that some ridiculously irresponsible rock star takes for granted? “… place, and Jasper, until he gets home.”
    “Well, you let me know what I can do to make you feel welcome.” Charles’ eyes smile kindly. “I’ll help you any way I can.”
    And just like that, I’ve made my first new friend in New York.

CHAPTER NINE

    The only things I did on my first trip to Gavin’s apartment were empty the trash and pile up some laundry. It’s still a pigsty, and for a moment I wonder if the Bedbug Motel is cleaner.
    The good news is that a housekeeping team is due tomorrow morning. The bad news is that I have to sleep here tonight.
    The kitchen can wait—it’s filthy, but I don’t plan to cook. I decide to explore and push open doors to the terrace as Jasper follows me. I trip over a couple of empty beer bottles that mercifully don’t break, and then pick my way to the edge, where I look down on the city.
    In this moment, I don’t think about the fact that I’m technically homeless. I don’t think about this nasty trashed apartment, last night’s horrible hotel, or why Stella colossally flaked out on me.
    Instead, the city lights feed me energy and optimism. I can do this. I can work this out, figure this out, find a way. I’ve always been self-reliant; this will test those skills. And I have a new friend. And a new dog. And a new address.
    “Baroo!”
    I turn from the hum of traffic and city noises, startled by the funny little sound from Jasper. It’s more yodel than bark.
    “You’re hilarious,” I tell him, and scratch the big white saddle mark on his neck that continues down his stomach. Other than that, he’s a rust-brown red, with a white-tipped donut tail and white paws.
    At the thought of donuts, I’m suddenly starving. It’s well past dinnertime, so I consider my options. I could try to find something in this apartment, but it might be gross, or at the very least, suspicious. Do I want to eat Gavin Slater’s food, considering what a dump the rest of his apartment is?
    “Baroo!”
    Jasper’s yodel alerts me to the fact that he’s probably hungry, too. We scour the kitchen pantry and cupboards and deduce that Gavin is out of dog food.
    Typical.
    My opinion of him has gone from “irresponsible hottie” to “over-privileged ass.” He doesn’t know how good he has it, or else he’s bent on destroying what should be a really