Bad Day (Hard Rock Roots) Read Online Free PDF Page A

got some real hope up in here.” I flip a finger to the sky and start off towards the house, dragging one of our bodyguards behind me. I hate having them around. Makes me feel like a damn pussy. Besides, it's not like they were able to help Trey. Trey. My heart spasms and I stumble up the steps to the deck. It's painted some dull gray-blue color, but it's still ragged and splintery as hell. “Fuck,” I growl, snatching my hand away from the peeling paint and rough wood. I shake my fingers out as I pause in front of the door and try the knob. Locked.
    “Just a moment, Mr. Campbell,” says Pube Hair as he scoots around me and holds out an arm towards my chest. I look down at his hand touching my crunchy, bloody shirt and sneer at him, tossing my cigarette at his feet before I move back voluntarily. I don't do shit because I'm told to. Just doesn't happen. Besides, I hate cops. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cop, thought they saved people and crap. But they never saved me. Left me with my mother until I was able to get a court order of emancipation. “We just want to do a quick run-through of the house first.” I roll my eyes and slump against the swamp green siding, pretending the cold doesn't bother me. Or the isolation. Or the fact that Trey's hundreds of miles away lying in a hospital bed. “We've already done a sweep, but it never hurts to take precautions.” I narrow my eyes on the men as they unlock the door, wondering if either of them is planning on setting up a hidden camera or something. If these guys are in on the whole thing, we might be worse off out here in the middle of butt fuck nowhere than we would in a packed auditorium. I'm going to have to make my case to Milo and quick.
    I scoff at them and look away, watching as everyone but Dax files out of the van and stands milling around blank-faced and unsure. Ducks out of water. Plain and simple. No groupies, no drugs, no phones, no concerts. This is basically hell. But at least I've got an angel.
    I smile at Naomi as she ascends the steps and goes right inside, silver boots flashing in a ray of stray sunshine. I stand up and follow after, hating the fact that she had the balls to just walk in. Bitch is making me look bad. I catch up to her in the living room. It's got vaulted ceilings and natural pine beams, some pretty standard furniture and a ten foot tall fireplace made up of river rock.
    “Ugh,” Naomi says, popping a cigarette in her mouth. “It looks like the type of vacation rental my friends and I used to shack up in. We'd smoke pot and watch shitty VHS recordings of Adult Swim for days straight.” She pulls a lighter out of her pocket and flicks the top off. “How depressing.”
    “You have friends, Knox?” I ask, pushing the darkness and the pain and the worry down as far as they'll go. I haven't felt like this in a long time, and I don't like it. The loss, the sense of helplessness, the fucking fear. It's not good for a person. “That's news to me.”
    “I said used to , Turner. As in once upon a fucking time.” Naomi leans forward and blows a smoke ring in my face. Despite the situation, I can't hold back the rush of pure sex that invades my veins. Naomi makes me crazy for it. Besides, I imagine that if I was moving inside of her, that I'd have a lot less brain function to repeat the scene of the shooting over and over and over again in my head. I pinch my eyes shut and turn away.
    I was on such a high in that moment. Now I'm on the lowest low I've had in a decade. My stomach's all knotted up like I've been falling for hours. Even the thought of hitting the ground sounds good at this point. I open my eyes again and move away from Naomi before she can see the hurt in my gaze.
    “When do we get our phones back?” Ronnie asks, coming in after us and looking around with clouded eyes. Lola. That chick has grabbed ahold of his balls and won't let go. Hey, I don't blame him. In fact, I'm happy for the guy. Even if the woman he fell in