Loyalty Read Online Free Page A

away. “I try not to get bogged down by technicalities.”
    “So I’ve noticed. What’s your theory about Melanie?”
    Fina looked into the window of Dunkin’ Donuts. People really did eat doughnuts at all hours of the day. “My initial theory was that she and my brother had a fight, she got pissed, and was off having a hot stone massage and a juice cleanse in some small, artsy hamlet.”
    “And your current theory?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “And your brother?”
    “What about him?”
    “I hear he’s meeting for a chat this afternoon.”
    “Cristian, he didn’t do anything to her. He’s an arrogant windbag, but they fight and make up all the time. She’s probably just teaching him a lesson.”
    “Your family never does anything on a normal scale, do they? Like give one another the silent treatment for a day.”
    “Nope. We’re from the ‘play big or go home’ school of thought.”
    “Sounds exhausting.”
    “It is. Speaking of wives, how are things with the ex?”
    “She’s busting my balls, as usual. I think going to court is her new hobby.”
    “I always pegged Marissa as the scrapbooking sort.”
    “I wish.”
    “Did that referral help at all?” Fina had set Cristian up with the meanest divorce lawyer in town.
    “Oh yeah. He’s a total prick.”
    “That’s terrific. Just what you want in a divorce lawyer. Let me know if you need anything, and in the meantime . . .” She smiled at Cristian. “You’ll keep me in the loop?”
    “What’s in it for me?”
    “Sexual favors or doughnuts, your choice. I’ll keep checking with people on my end.”
    Cristian tapped his knuckle against the window. “People like Mark Lamont? You still pal around with him?” Mark was an old friend from high school who made his living in various criminal enterprises. He successfully straddled the legal and illegal worlds, and he’d proven to be an invaluable source of information over the years.
    “I don’t pal around with him. We help each other.”
    Cristian leaned toward Fina like he was going to share a secret. “He’s dangerous.”
    She leaned closer so their foreheads were practically touching. “I know.”
    Cristian opened the door and climbed out.
    “Don’t be a stranger!” Fina called after him.

    He barely made it to the men’s room in time. When he leaned over the toilet, his meager dinner came spilling out. He hadn’t eaten much—half a pulled pork sandwich and a biscuit from the drive-thru, but it all came up with a slightly orange tinge, compliments of the orange juice he’d downed. He stayed doubled over, his palms resting on his knees, careful not to touch anything. The only thing worse than throwing up was throwing up in a filthy bathroom stall, like this one at the Cincinnati Airport. He wiped his face and damp brow with some toilet paper. Maybe he could take a later flight. But doing that would presume he’d actually feel better later.
    He needed to get to Boston. He needed to get to a room where he could close the door, lower the blinds, lie down on clean sheets, and forget.

    Fina picked up a message from Carl ordering her to get down to the marina where the family kept their boats.
    The Ludlows were a powerboat family, just another way they deviated from their more refined peers. Boston and its environs were sailboat country, and real mariners took pride in the cramped quarters and rustic charms of being under wind power. You weren’t supposed to fire up the satellite TV and throw in a load of laundry while cruising out for a whale watch.
    Carl’s boats had gotten bigger as his practice became increasingly successful. He loved the material rewards of his work, but he got an even greater thrill from screwing the powers that be. He’d stumbled into medical malpractice and personal injury because of his daughter Josie’s death—a strep misdiagnosis had led to massive organ failure and changed the course of the Ludlows’ life—and it suited Carl to a tee. Every case was