Read Thicker Than Blood for Free Online Page B

thin, totally bald man who chewed an entire box of toothpicks during every AA meeting.
    “How much do you owe on the car? I’ll advance you the money.”
    Lonnie shook his head. “No, really, I can handle it. Sorry if I’ve been a jerk lately.”
    She leaned both hands on the desk. “Lonnie, I care about you.”
    “I know, I know. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be lying in the gutter where you found me.”
    He had helped her begin her own recovery from booze, then two weeks after she had opened the garage, she found him sprawled unconscious in a corner, his nose scarlet and dripping, his breath reeking of cheap wine. Rachel had put him in her car and driven him to AA.
    She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping he was telling the truth now, but not believing it. “So what can I do?”
    He gave her a steady gaze. “You can believe me when I tell you I’m clean.”
    She dropped her eyes. “Okay. If I’m mistaken, I apologize.”
    He noted the scuffed pair of Reeboks on her feet and mustered a thin grin. “Now go on and run. You haven’t been exactly laid back lately, yourself. I’ll open up.”
    333
    The dry bed of the Los Angeles River was not the best place to run but it was nearby, fairly flat and safe from traffic. As Rachel ran, the snarled string of thoughts in her head began to unkink and fade. A knot of people peered at her from the rim of what had been the river. There were, she knew, several settlements of homeless folk along the railroad tracks and beneath the freeway underpass.
    There, but for the grace of AA and Bruno.… She was beginning to sweat. She dropped her pace to a walk for a few dozen yards, then began a slow jog. Ahead, a couple of boys were shoving each other about. She slowed, but they scrambled out of sight. She was picking up her pace again when something hit the center of her back with the force of a cannonball. Gravel bit into knees and elbows as she hit the ground.
    Someone grunted, grabbed her arm and jabbed a hand into the pocket of her shorts.
    Chapter Nine
    “Stand up. Slowly.” The voice was that of a calm and confident woman. Rachel thought it was speaking to her and tried to rise.
    The hand withdrew from her pocket.
    “Move away from her. Put your hands on top of your head.”
    “What’s that, a toy gun?” a young male voice sneered.
    “No. It’s small, but believe me, it’s deadly.”
    Rachel heard the sound of feet running, but they didn’t belong to her assailant. “Bullshit!” The boy spat. “That fucking thing is for babies,” he jeered, but he was moving off and didn’t look back.
    Hands were gently moving over Rachel’s legs and arms. “You okay?”
    Gingerly, Rachel sat up. “Just knocked the breath out of me, I guess.”
    The woman sat back on her knees. Long black hair hung about fragile features that would have suited a dark-eyed Dresden doll.
    Rachel swayed slightly.
    The woman steadied her. “Head still spinning?”
    Rachel nodded. “I think I hit it on something.”
    “You don’t have a weapon? A can of mace? Nothing?”
    “Not exactly bright, is it?” Rachel managed a half smile. “I knew the homeless were here, but they’re harmless enough.” Wanting to stand, but not sure she could manage it, she put her arms about her knees and hugged them to her.
    “Your legs got scraped up. This is not exactly a great place to jog.”
    The woman was wearing what looked like Sports Chalet’s latest in running apparel. The shoes alone would cost well over a hundred dollars. She read Rachel’s look. “But I am armed.”
    She bent over to slip the small gun into the leg warmer on her right ankle. “And I have a reason for running here. It reminds me daily of what has been done to this state’s rivers.” A frown sharpened her delicate features.
    She straightened and held out her hand. “Alexandra Miller. With Protectors of the Earth.”
    “Rachel Chavez. I own the Park-Rite garage.”
    “Across from InterUrban? Don’t you love the