Read Online Bloodline by F. Paul Wilson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: F. Paul Wilson
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Romance, Fantasy fiction, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Horror, Private Investigators, Mystery Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - Hard-Boiled, Occult & Supernatural, Horror - General, Repairman Jack (Fictitious Character)
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drawl, the longish hair, the long, lean frame, the mystery of what lay behind that beard, the mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to pierce you…
Maybe it was that bad-boy thing. He had a certain sense of danger about him that, in another time, another place, might have attracted her. But to know that it was aimed at her daughter, attracting her … well, that was too much to bear.
Maybe because he'd been with her little girl—not yet with her in that sense back then—just… with her. She'd wanted him gone, wanted to kick him out on his ass, but she couldn't. They'd only go elsewhere, and she wanted him where she could keep an eye on him.
Finally they did go elsewhere. To his place. And once they got there she knew they wouldn't limit their relationship to working on video games. At least not for long.
The thought sickened her.
Not that she was a prude. Anything but. She'd lost her virginity at sixteen and had got it on with half a dozen different boyfriends in high school before… never mind. She didn't want to think about that. But the operative word was the boy in boyfriend. They were boys —her age or maybe a year older. They were all growing and learning the sexual ropes together. This Bethlehem creep had the benefit of a whole extra lifetime of experience beyond Dawn's. What was he into? What was he teaching her? What was he making her do?
Don't you hurt my little girl.
And she knew he was going to hurt her. Not emotionally, by dumping her after he'd used her up. Christy could help Dawn through that. No, worse. He wanted something from her. But what? And why Dawn?
Dawnie… how could an Ivy League—bound girl act so dumb? And sound dumb too. Despite all her reading and all her A's in English, she'd fallen into the "like" and "totally" habit of her peers. Really, with laws about everything else, why couldn't they pass a law about the number of times someone could use "like" per day?
So she'd started fining Dawn—twenty-five cents for every time she misused "like." It had worked, making her conscious of it, and her use trailed off. Christy had just instituted a similar program to wipe out "totally" when that man came along.
Did he care about Dawnie—at all?
She couldn't believe that, and so she needed something on this cradle-robbing bastard.
She hoped tonight would be the night he'd make a mistake. She'd follow—
There he was, sauntering out of the bar, talking on his cell phone as if he didn't have a care in the world—and all the while making a wreck of Dawnie's.
And yet, watching the sinuous way he moved, the swing of his shoulders, the twist of his narrow waist, she couldn't help feel a pull. She understood why Dawn was so gaga over him. He was sexy—no other word for it. He could have just about any woman he wanted.
So why on Earth did he want Dawn?
Unlike so many other mothers, Christy had never kidded herself about her daughter's looks. Dawnie was plain. Those words would never leave her lips. In fact she'd always told Dawn she was beautiful. And inside she was. But the girl wasn't stupid. She had a mirror. And knowing she wasn't pretty had had its effect, pushing her into academics instead of boys. Which was wonderful. Plenty of time for guys later.
All of which made her a sitting duck for a magnetic guy like Jerry Bethlehem.
Again the question: Why Dawn?
Not knowing the answer made Christy's skin crawl.
She watched him hop on his Harley. He had a sporty little Miata too, but tonight he was using the bike. She watched him adjust his helmet and wished he didn't wear one. Then she could pray he got hit by a car and wound up brain dead. Or maybe she'd run him off the road and—
The thought shocked her. Where had that come from?
From deep in her gut. If push came to shove, she'd do anything to keep Dawnie safe from him. A mother protected her own.
She remembered her pregnancy. She'd been single and scared, with her mother royally pissed that she was knocked up. She'd planned to give
Maybe it was that bad-boy thing. He had a certain sense of danger about him that, in another time, another place, might have attracted her. But to know that it was aimed at her daughter, attracting her … well, that was too much to bear.
Maybe because he'd been with her little girl—not yet with her in that sense back then—just… with her. She'd wanted him gone, wanted to kick him out on his ass, but she couldn't. They'd only go elsewhere, and she wanted him where she could keep an eye on him.
Finally they did go elsewhere. To his place. And once they got there she knew they wouldn't limit their relationship to working on video games. At least not for long.
The thought sickened her.
Not that she was a prude. Anything but. She'd lost her virginity at sixteen and had got it on with half a dozen different boyfriends in high school before… never mind. She didn't want to think about that. But the operative word was the boy in boyfriend. They were boys —her age or maybe a year older. They were all growing and learning the sexual ropes together. This Bethlehem creep had the benefit of a whole extra lifetime of experience beyond Dawn's. What was he into? What was he teaching her? What was he making her do?
Don't you hurt my little girl.
And she knew he was going to hurt her. Not emotionally, by dumping her after he'd used her up. Christy could help Dawn through that. No, worse. He wanted something from her. But what? And why Dawn?
Dawnie… how could an Ivy League—bound girl act so dumb? And sound dumb too. Despite all her reading and all her A's in English, she'd fallen into the "like" and "totally" habit of her peers. Really, with laws about everything else, why couldn't they pass a law about the number of times someone could use "like" per day?
So she'd started fining Dawn—twenty-five cents for every time she misused "like." It had worked, making her conscious of it, and her use trailed off. Christy had just instituted a similar program to wipe out "totally" when that man came along.
Did he care about Dawnie—at all?
She couldn't believe that, and so she needed something on this cradle-robbing bastard.
She hoped tonight would be the night he'd make a mistake. She'd follow—
There he was, sauntering out of the bar, talking on his cell phone as if he didn't have a care in the world—and all the while making a wreck of Dawnie's.
And yet, watching the sinuous way he moved, the swing of his shoulders, the twist of his narrow waist, she couldn't help feel a pull. She understood why Dawn was so gaga over him. He was sexy—no other word for it. He could have just about any woman he wanted.
So why on Earth did he want Dawn?
Unlike so many other mothers, Christy had never kidded herself about her daughter's looks. Dawnie was plain. Those words would never leave her lips. In fact she'd always told Dawn she was beautiful. And inside she was. But the girl wasn't stupid. She had a mirror. And knowing she wasn't pretty had had its effect, pushing her into academics instead of boys. Which was wonderful. Plenty of time for guys later.
All of which made her a sitting duck for a magnetic guy like Jerry Bethlehem.
Again the question: Why Dawn?
Not knowing the answer made Christy's skin crawl.
She watched him hop on his Harley. He had a sporty little Miata too, but tonight he was using the bike. She watched him adjust his helmet and wished he didn't wear one. Then she could pray he got hit by a car and wound up brain dead. Or maybe she'd run him off the road and—
The thought shocked her. Where had that come from?
From deep in her gut. If push came to shove, she'd do anything to keep Dawnie safe from him. A mother protected her own.
She remembered her pregnancy. She'd been single and scared, with her mother royally pissed that she was knocked up. She'd planned to give
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