Bloodline Read Online Free PDF Page A

hit-and-run changed everything.
    With Emma's death the need for a new identity had lost its urgency and he saw little use in pursuing it. Easier to stay where he was… out of sight and out of his mind.
    "We'll see."
    As Julio headed back to the bar, a well-dressed blonde stepped through the door and froze, wrinkling her nose. Jack saw Lou stub out his butt and hide the ashtray under the bar. Julio spotted her and veered in her direction. A few whispered words and then he was leading her back toward Jack.
    "Someone here to see you," he said as they stopped before the table.
    Jack rose and offered his hand.
    "Christy? Jack."
    She took his hand gingerly and gave it a squeeze.
    Julio said, "You want beer? Wine? Coffee?"
    She looked the cosmo type, and like she wanted one, but she shook her head.
    "No, thank you."
    Jack indicated the opposite chair. "Have a seat."
    She sat—gingerly. She rested her handbag on the table—gingerly. She touched the tabletop—gingerly.
    Jack hid a smile. The furniture did tend to be a little sticky and Miss Priss had probably never been in a workingman's bar.
    He gave her a quick once-over. He didn't know much about women's clothes, but her light blue skirt and jacket looked pricey. So did the semi-sheer white blouse beneath. No question about the diamond rings and bracelets: the real thing. She wasn't dressing for success; this was the way success dressed.
    She wore her bobbed, ash-blond hair—not the real thing, like Gia's—parted in the middle, and had eyes almost as blue as Gia's. Maybe she had a nice smile, but Jack couldn't tell. Right now she looked tired and grim.
    "Usually places on the Upper West Side are…" She seemed to be searching for a word.
    "Nicer? Julio's is a holdover from the times when you came to this neighborhood to save on rent." He sipped from his Yuengling. "Sure you wouldn't like a drink?"
    Her expression stayed tight. "I'd love one—I'm a Diet Pepsi addict—but I'm not sure my immunizations are up to date."
    Oooh, a regular Margaret Cho.
    "Okay. You wanted to talk. The floor is yours."
    She leaned back, looking even more tired.
    "Where to begin? Dawn's a good kid. Turned eighteen in March, graduates Benedictine Academy next month with honors."
    "B-A, huh? Must be smart."
    "Great academic smarts—though you'd never guess it by the way she speaks—but no common sense, apparently. She's been accepted to Colgate. She's got a wonderful future ahead of her, and then this son of a bitch comes along and…" She shook her head. "Sorry."
    Jack shrugged. "Don't be. Tell me about him. When did he come along?"
    "Right after the first of the year. Started showing up at the Tower Diner where Dawn works."
    "The Tower Diner?" Jack knew a lot of diners but not the Tower. "Where's that?"
    "Queens Boulevard in Rego Park. Close to home."
    "No offense, but you don't look the diner type."
    She leaned forward and tapped her index finger on the tabletop.
    "I grew up waitressing in diners and Waffle Houses and IHOPs and God knows where else. Nothing wrong with the Tower, and nothing wrong with waiting tables there. It's good for a kid to have a job. Teaches them what the real world's like. Lets them see what kind of hole their government leaves in their check every week. And waiting tables sharpens your people skills."
    Jack remembered a now-extinct Little Italy trattoria where he waited tables when he first came to town. Made some friends on the staff, but didn't think he'd added to his already abundant charm.
    "You're telling me you don't come from money, I take it."
    Her laugh was bitter. "I come from nothing . Never went to college, at least not formally. Took courses here and there along the way, though. But most of what I know I learned on my own, and all of what I own I've earned on my own."
    "How?"
    Here was something Jack wanted to know.
    "Day trading."
    "Really." Hadn't expected that. "I heard most folks had dropped out of that."
    "Because they lost their shirts, most likely. But