Read King Blood for Free Online Page B

away from him with her shyly stooped shoulders and timidly lowered face. Critch waited until she disappeared through the swinging doors of the restroom. Then, he carried her baggage out a side entrance, and down the street a few doors to a combination pawnshop-secondhand store.
    Critch had learned of the place from other professionals on the criminal circuit. Between the right people, there was a ready exchange of such information. He had had no occasion to do business with the establishment's proprietor heretofore, but he had stopped by for a chat. And today the latter gestured Critch toward the back room, then joined him behind its curtained portals after a quick look up and down the street.
    'No one following you, huh? Well, let's take a look at it.'
    The contents of the two bags were of a type with the oddly-assorted stuff which the girl had been wearing. The kind of things which only ignorant unworldliness would allow. Or perhaps they had been wished on her by well-meaning relatives. They weren't intrinsically shoddy; someone, if not her, had laid out some bucks for them. They just weren't suitable; a lot of everything, but not one good everyday outfit. Why, hell, there were even a couple of party gowns! Did she think Fort Sill was West Point?
    'Well…' The proprietor measured a gown against his own squatty body; shook his head dubiously. 'I dunno about the rags, but the luggage ain't bad. Call it thirty?'
    'Call it forty.'
    'Call me Santy Claus,' said the proprietor, and he counted out the forty.
    And, meanwhile, in a stall of the women's restroom, Emma Allerton, alias Anne Anderson, stood naked from the waist up. Her shoulders thrown back, her abundant bosom rising and falling with the unaccustomed pleasure of deep breathing.
    Christ, what a relief! What a relief to get out of that harness for a while and straighten up!
    She stretched luxuriously, sucking her stomach in and out, pulling her chin in for a critical glance at her nakedness. _Bet I know what you'd like to have, she told it. And her groin prickled at the thought._ Then, her gaze fell on her right breast, at the rough furrow of teeth marks where once had been the nipple. And she cursed in silent fury.
    The horny old bastard! Every time she saw that bub she got mad all over. Goddamn him! Goddamn her sister!
    It was really Sis's fault, the overbearing slut! Sis should have given the guy the hatchet long before. But she'd been having too much fun in the next room, so Emma-Annie had got her tit chomped.
    A hell of a sister, Sis was. But she'd paid for it, by Jesus. Oh, but she'd paid for it! Rather, Little Sis had paid herself, and just in time, too, from what she'd heard. The news hadn't hit the papers yet, but the grapevine had it that the law had either grabbed Sis or was just about to do it.
    Anne patted the thick money belt which cinched her waist, eyes bright with malice as she thought of her sister. Absently, she allowed a hand to stray over the mutilated breast, and in her mind it became another's hand, and her expression softened dreamily.
    Damn, it would be nice after all these weeks. Six weeks of running, crossing and crisscrossing the Midwest and Southwest, leaving a trail that was no trail, and then finally swinging down into the Territory. Six weeks of going around with her head ducked and her chest caved in, and looking like something the cat dug up.
    No sport in all that time. And none that was really worth having before then. Sis had always taken on the good-looking guys, and forced the clodhoppers on her. Not once had she ever gotten a crack at a guy even half as cute and handsome as Captain Crittenden.
    He remained in her mind as she reluctantly regarbed herself. Thinking what a damned shame it was that things were as bad as they were.
    If she hadn't claimed to be married, practically a new bride –
    If he hadn't just lost his wife –
    With a regretful little shake of her head, she finished dressing. She started to leave the stall, then sat