Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) Read Online Free PDF

am I sleeping? It was a long trip. And where’s the damn trash?”
    “Just leave it wherever.” He gestured vaguely and set his own bottle on the butcher block his hip had been propped on.
    My demolished water bottle clattered to the countertop.
    He turned, dancing to keep his equilibrium when he almost tripped over his dog, and I followed him from the kitchen. He hooked his fingers into the handle of my bag as he passed it in the hall and began to stalk up the grand staircase. A few steps up, he wrestled with the bulky weight and grabbed the banister to restore his balance. Instinctively, I moved behind him, also clutching the rail in case my body had to take his weight to block him from falling. The luggage piece bumped down a few stairs and landed on its side. Hopping back down, I grabbed it up and apparently acceding to his lack of coordination tonight, he didn’t reach for it again.
    I watched, saddened, as he continued to stagger and drag himself up to the second floor. With one hand on the wall, he led, stopping a few doors down.
    “Here.” He twisted a knob, pushed the door open, took an unaided step from one side of the wide doorframe to the other, and leaned against the wall again as he walked.
    Abandoning the suitcase, I felt along the wall and flipped a switch, illuminating a stylish room. The décor had the clean cut lines of the early Seventies, but the furnishings seemed edgier. The bed was on a platform, and despite its ultra-modern look, it appeared fluffy and cozy with plenty of pillows.
    “Wait! This room…” Standing in the doorway, I spoke to his retreating shoulders. “Is it… Who uses this room?”
    “You worried about orgies and sex parties?” He spoke without looking back. “Good call. But the sheets are clean.”
    “And I’m supposed to take your word for that?”
    He’d reached a door at the end of the hall, and he turned before disappearing into the lamp lit room. “I really don’t give a fuck. Night, Scarlette. Sleep well, Sis.”

Chapter 8

    T he next morning, I turned off my phone alarm and slept to my heart's content. It was a few minutes after noon when I fiddled with the water temperature and flow in the large tiled shower. I'd briefly noted the beautiful bathroom the night before, but now I leisurely took in the ornate tiling pattern and the trendy fixtures.
    The view from the window built into the shower held me transfixed. The house, as I’d suspected during the cab ride last night, was indeed on a mountainside, and the city was blanketed below with a wisp of smog or fog hovering above.
    An assortment of shampoos and gels lined the ledge in the shower. Spicy or flowery. All looking new. And the bath linens… I marveled how soft the washcloth felt and buried my face into the steaming rag.
    Dressed in jeans and a bohemian shirt, I peeked into the hallway, listening to the silence of the house. Scanning the closed doors, I wondered if Gage was still asleep.
    Downstairs in the kitchen, I found a young housekeeper in uniform standing at the sink. The woman offered me coffee and breakfast. I declined food and took a steaming cup of coffee to the enormous glass window in the large adjoining room, which overlooked an elaborately furnished patio.
    “Would you like me to open it?” Drying her hands on the frilly apron at her waist, the exotic woman moved to a control box. “Lovely day.”
    To my surprise, the glass slid back into itself and then into the wall until the outside blended with the inside. Smiling and thanking her, I wandered onto the polished planks, drawn closer to the view down the mountainside. One level down was an infinity pool, and I descended the steps to stand at the edge of that patio, viewing the steep decline.
    The city lay below—a slightly different view than I had from my bathroom. I checked the texts and emails on my phone while finishing my coffee and made my way back up to the house. The maid was no longer in sight, but a plate of muffins