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

covered in plastic wrap adorned the butcher-block island.
    I wrapped one in a napkin and strolled to the other windows in the kitchen and adjoining great room. The first bite halted me in my tracks, and I took another, savoring the lemony sweet goodness and burst of flavor from the seeds dotting it. There was still no sign of Gage or the dog I’d seen the night before. After throwing my trash away, I explored the rest of the house while mentally working out my search plans for Ivy.
    The outside walls of the bottom floor were almost all glass, with plank patios and cushy outside furnishings beyond. I assumed they might all be slide-back walls like the one in the great room. Besides what I’d already seen, the downstairs included a bedroom, which the maid was moving about in, and a locked door.
    Spying a descent of stairs beyond an arched doorway, I moved in that direction.
    Framed press clippings and gold and platinum singles and albums decorated the walls on either side of the curving stairway. The last step dropped me into a room resembling a movie theater, and I paused in awe.
    Directly in front of me was a bar with four stools behind it, facing the large screen on the wall several levels down. Behind the stools were shelves of liquor and boxes of snacks. A popcorn machine looked at home in the corner of this area. A level down, pushed up against the front of the bar was a giant lounging pad with numerous pillows of all shapes and sizes stacked along the wall that made up the bar front. I easily imagined sprawling out on it right now and watching a movie.
    But I walked down the next level to the back row of recliner seats. There were four on this level, and then two, each wide enough for two people on the next levels. Narrow tables with cup holders nestled between the cushy leather lounging chairs.
    And on the last level, directly in front of the large screen, was a thick white furry rug.
    My thoughts went again to the night before, wishing things had gone differently, and that Gage and I had ended up in here watching Spiderman or The Fantastic Four. He had changed into such an ass. I couldn’t see a movie night happening now, even if I ended up staying a week while searching for Ivy.
    Picking up the nearby remote, I sank to the footrest of one of the comfy chairs. My thumb pressed the power button, and the screen flickered to life.
    The scene was a guitar close up with long, strong fingers spidering up and down the frets. Surround sound pounded out the tune of the performing band, and I hastily lowered the volume. The camera backed away, bringing the guitarist slowly into full view, and I gasped when Gage appeared, larger than life. His head bobbed with the beat as he played, his restless feet moving a step here and there. The camera panned out more, and gradually the entire band came into view.
    Many times, I’d listened to Fire Flight or watched the band’s videos. After all, Gage was the closest I’d ever had to a big brother, so I was proud of his talent and accomplishment. However, it was odd watching him onscreen now when I was immersed in his world.
    The enjoyment he found in his playing was evident in the euphoric expressions playing over his face and his body language. Every move was an assimilation of the sound.
    And then he stepped closer to the mic and began to sing as he played. His voice sent shivers shooting through me. He was beautiful and oh-so-talented. It was hard to believe the asshole who was either sleeping off a hangover upstairs or had left without a word before I woke was the same man.
    My mind drifted away from the stress of my missing friend. I settled more comfortably in the chair and watched until the set came to an end and faded to black. From what I could tell, I’d been viewing a recorded version of one of Fire Flight’s live performances. A video company and contact information were the only credits that rolled when it ended.
    A menu appeared on the screen with the choices repeat,