Blood Lines Read Online Free PDF Page A

with the sleeves hacked off and tied well above her waist. Her dishwater blonde hair held a green tint under the weak light. Tattoos covered her arms and legs and ringed her navel.
    â€œCan I get you boys something?” the waitress asked.
    â€œBeers,” Victor said.
    â€œDomestic or imported?” the waitress asked.
    â€œAmerican,” Victor said. “I fought for this country. I’ll drink the beer that’s made here too.”
    â€œYou want me to take you to a table?” the young woman asked. “Or do you want to pick one out for yourselves? It’s early yet. Got plenty of room.”
    Victor waved her off. “When you get those beers, we’ll look just like this.” He walked through the tables and took one against the back wall that gave him a good view of the room. Then he dropped into a chair.
    Fat Mike sat at another table nearby and to one side. They always left each other clear fields of fire in case they needed it. If the waitress thought the seating arrangement was odd when she returned with the drinks, she didn’t mention it.

    >> 1717 Hours
    Minutes passed as rock and roll pounded the bar’s walls.
    Victor drank his beer and gazed around the bar. Other bikers lounged nearby, but none of them were Purple Royals. The Tawny Kitty was a neutral zone, a lot like the DMZ back in Nam.
    â€œYou seen your boy today?” Fat Mike asked from his table.
    â€œA little.”
    â€œA little?” Fat Mike shook his head sadly. “Don’t he know it’s Father’s Day? He should be hanging with you. A boy should be with his daddy on Father’s Day.”
    â€œThis ain’t exactly something I want Bobby Lee hanging around for.” Victor took another sip of beer. “Boy’s got enough problems.”
    â€œThat beef with them jarheads down in Camp Lejeune?” Fat Mike waved the possibility away. “If they was gonna do something, they’d have done it by now.”
    â€œThey been looking for Bobby Lee.”
    â€œWell, they ain’t found him.”
    â€œWe met a lot of jarheads while we were doing our bit,” Victor said. “You know the problem with jarheads.”
    â€œAin’t smart enough to know when to give up on something. I know. Bobby Lee shouldn’t have left any witnesses behind when he jacked that car. Me and you wouldn’t have done that.”
    â€œMe and you wouldn’t have jacked no car.”
    Fat Mike shrugged. “Me and you was always too smart for that. We learned what we needed to know back in the Army.” He grinned like a sly old hound. “But you got to cut Bobby Lee some slack. You wasn’t always there. He’s learning the best way he knows how.”
    That rankled Victor. He hadn’t even known Amelia was pregnant with the boy until he’d gotten served with the papers. He’d married her while on a weekend bender, then come to his senses when he was sobered up back in South Korea. He hadn’t come home again.
    He’d told himself that Bobby Lee wasn’t his, that Amelia was just sticking it to him for the child support the Army made him pay. But then he’d come back home after the Gulf War and seen the boy. There had been no denying it then. The boy had been the spitting image of him.
    Victor could remember how weird that had felt. With everything he’d done, everything he’d seen, he’d never once thought about being a daddy. He didn’t run with guys who had kids—in the Army or out. He remembered his old man, but there weren’t any fond memories there. His daddy was the reason Victor had joined the Army at eighteen and quit high school midterm to go to Vietnam. Fighting the Vietnamese made more sense than trying to fight his daddy.
    At first Victor and Bobby Lee had only grudgingly admitted the other existed. Victor hadn’t held that against the boy. He didn’t hold it against him now.
    He could remember