Read Online For the Bond (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #3) by Nora Flite - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nora Flite
Ads: Link
Kite believed she meant her word.
All that was left to do was wait. Migrating, I moved to the wide bar and sat in the middle. I had a direct line of sight with the entrance. Settling in, I linked my fingers in my lap and counted the seconds. The movement to my left told me a bartender was rushing around. Something to take the edge off sounded good.
I was half-way through turning, ready to speak to whoever could get me a glass. “Shit,” Kite hissed in my ear.
Dreading what I already knew I would see, I turned towards the door. In her dark jacket and plain jeans, Marina should have blended into the crowd. To me, with my heart crushing under a wave of defeat and my eyes straining to make this into a mirage... I couldn't have missed her.
Marina had failed the test.
Her head shifted, finding me across the room. The flicker of relief she glowed with smothered me. I wasn't angry. This went further, shattered me in the bottom of my soul. I was fucking heartbroken.
I'd promised Kite a chance. There was a fiercely protective part of me—a savior that had only ever shielded my best friend—and it had swelled at the idea of saving this girl. Marina was everything I wanted, perhaps even needed.
She couldn't be trusted. Her fate was locked.
God, I wanted to jump off of a cliff. She was coming my way, uncertainty turning her onyx eyes glossy. Without looking to my left, where the bar-tender's shadow was in my peripheral, I lifted a hand and spoke. “Whiskey, clean. Make it a double.” A cliff wasn't in my near future. A drunken escape would have to do.
“Uh, sure man. Let me see your ID.”
If I wasn't so foggy with grief over the future-corpse walking my way, I would have thought the voice was familiar. I was too lost to focus. Yanking out my wallet, I slammed my ID onto the bar and slid it his way without tearing my gaze from Marina. “Make it fast.” She was seconds away from me.
His laugh was surprised. “Holy shit. Don't I know you?”
The grooves of my brain boiled. Turning, slow as tree-sap, I looked into the familiar face of my bar tender. Skull-thin, socket cheeks, bruise colored eye-bags.
Juice. My cocaine dealer.
That awkward smile grew bigger the longer he stared at me. “Holy hell, man! It is you! With your haircut and—what, didn't you used to wear glasses?” Juice flashed his teeth, stunned by our encounter. He wasn't alone. “Man! You clean up good, Dennis! You quit the thug life like me?” He motioned at my clothes, the suit far nicer than the dirt-coated dregs I'd had on in the Pink Factory.
Battery acid jolted through my nerves. My instinct was to turn and flee. Juice was here, the only person who could connect me to Hecko. I needed to think. A plan, an escape, a way out. Looking down, I spotted my ID. It wouldn't read the name 'Dennis.' How the hell had my wig and glasses not thrown this guy off my scent?
“For real, though,” he said, leaning in close but speaking too loudly for the situation. “You did what I did, right? Left the game? Fuck, how could you not? Seeing Hecko's face all over the news, that was it. Him and Frank, dudes that I knew .” He ran a finger over his throat, frowning. “Ugly fucking business. I'm done with it. Got hired here yesterday, way better than selling dust.”
Licking my bottom lip, I judged the distance between my ID—that was luckily face down on the bar—and me. Fate wasn't on my side today. Juice's fingers came down, pressing the plastic into the wet surface but not lifting it yet. I was trapped. I could not let him take my ID with him. “New job,” I said, catching his eye. “That's great, man. Good for you.”
“Right?” Snorting, his sharp shoulders went to his ears in a shrug. “Man, this is weird. Like, I met you, what, a week ago or something? Now you're here. It's crazy!”
Yes. It was crazy.
The tiny voice in my ear was a growl. “Jacob,” Kite whispered. “What's happening?”
“Still can't believe Hecko is dead,” Juice
All that was left to do was wait. Migrating, I moved to the wide bar and sat in the middle. I had a direct line of sight with the entrance. Settling in, I linked my fingers in my lap and counted the seconds. The movement to my left told me a bartender was rushing around. Something to take the edge off sounded good.
I was half-way through turning, ready to speak to whoever could get me a glass. “Shit,” Kite hissed in my ear.
Dreading what I already knew I would see, I turned towards the door. In her dark jacket and plain jeans, Marina should have blended into the crowd. To me, with my heart crushing under a wave of defeat and my eyes straining to make this into a mirage... I couldn't have missed her.
Marina had failed the test.
Her head shifted, finding me across the room. The flicker of relief she glowed with smothered me. I wasn't angry. This went further, shattered me in the bottom of my soul. I was fucking heartbroken.
I'd promised Kite a chance. There was a fiercely protective part of me—a savior that had only ever shielded my best friend—and it had swelled at the idea of saving this girl. Marina was everything I wanted, perhaps even needed.
She couldn't be trusted. Her fate was locked.
God, I wanted to jump off of a cliff. She was coming my way, uncertainty turning her onyx eyes glossy. Without looking to my left, where the bar-tender's shadow was in my peripheral, I lifted a hand and spoke. “Whiskey, clean. Make it a double.” A cliff wasn't in my near future. A drunken escape would have to do.
“Uh, sure man. Let me see your ID.”
If I wasn't so foggy with grief over the future-corpse walking my way, I would have thought the voice was familiar. I was too lost to focus. Yanking out my wallet, I slammed my ID onto the bar and slid it his way without tearing my gaze from Marina. “Make it fast.” She was seconds away from me.
His laugh was surprised. “Holy shit. Don't I know you?”
The grooves of my brain boiled. Turning, slow as tree-sap, I looked into the familiar face of my bar tender. Skull-thin, socket cheeks, bruise colored eye-bags.
Juice. My cocaine dealer.
That awkward smile grew bigger the longer he stared at me. “Holy hell, man! It is you! With your haircut and—what, didn't you used to wear glasses?” Juice flashed his teeth, stunned by our encounter. He wasn't alone. “Man! You clean up good, Dennis! You quit the thug life like me?” He motioned at my clothes, the suit far nicer than the dirt-coated dregs I'd had on in the Pink Factory.
Battery acid jolted through my nerves. My instinct was to turn and flee. Juice was here, the only person who could connect me to Hecko. I needed to think. A plan, an escape, a way out. Looking down, I spotted my ID. It wouldn't read the name 'Dennis.' How the hell had my wig and glasses not thrown this guy off my scent?
“For real, though,” he said, leaning in close but speaking too loudly for the situation. “You did what I did, right? Left the game? Fuck, how could you not? Seeing Hecko's face all over the news, that was it. Him and Frank, dudes that I knew .” He ran a finger over his throat, frowning. “Ugly fucking business. I'm done with it. Got hired here yesterday, way better than selling dust.”
Licking my bottom lip, I judged the distance between my ID—that was luckily face down on the bar—and me. Fate wasn't on my side today. Juice's fingers came down, pressing the plastic into the wet surface but not lifting it yet. I was trapped. I could not let him take my ID with him. “New job,” I said, catching his eye. “That's great, man. Good for you.”
“Right?” Snorting, his sharp shoulders went to his ears in a shrug. “Man, this is weird. Like, I met you, what, a week ago or something? Now you're here. It's crazy!”
Yes. It was crazy.
The tiny voice in my ear was a growl. “Jacob,” Kite whispered. “What's happening?”
“Still can't believe Hecko is dead,” Juice
Similar Books
