Chapter 29
They were so ridiculously transparent.
Did those undercover yahoos think he wouldn't spot them? They might just as well be wearing neon vests. The stocky bitch and her hairy companion sweeping their metal detector across the sand.
Please. And the fat guy fishing from the pier. His hat was too new and his technique too clumsy.
The three guys and a girl having a tailgate cookout were working way too hard at having a good time. The others were just as obvious.
Lozada had spotted them all from the passenger seat of the realtor's van. She was fiftyish, friendly, and eager to please. He had seen the billboard advertising her as Galveston Island's most successful real estate broker.
He had called her from his car.
Thanks to Weenie Sawyer's research, he knew the location of Wick's house. He mentioned the vicinity to the realtor as an area where he was interested in buying a lot on which to build a beach house for his wife and four children. He had requested a late evening appointment. They had met at her office and she had driven him here in one of the company's vans. The logo painted on the side was a familiar sight; it was plastered all over the island. Police wouldn't give the van a second glance.
Now, while she prattled on about the excellent investment opportunities of beachfront property, Lozada picked out the cops on the beach.
He dismissed them as insignificant amateurs and focused on Rennie and Wick.
Walking in the surf. Holding hands. How sweet. How romantic. All staged to draw him out and slap him with some trumped-up charge.
But what really rankled was that this newfound romance of theirs wasn't just a futile police operation, as he had originally thought. It was real and, as such, it was an affront. His blood pressure soared when he saw Wick groping her. Even from this distance he could tell their kiss wasn't playacting. Which only affirmed that Rennie was a whore.
She had been a whore from her youth. She had spread her legs for every lout in that miserable little town where she'd grown up, and now she was spreading them for Wick Threadgill, days after Lozada had professed his affection. He sorely regretted that now. Why hadn't he realized sooner that she was a whore, undeserving of him and his attention?
He had been tricked by her. During his trial she had noticed his attraction and had played games with him. She had used her cool, aloof demeanor to taunt him and make herself desirable.
Well he didn't want her anymore. She had proved herself unworthy.
Oh, he still wanted to fuck her. And when he did, he would make it hurt. By the time he got through with her she would understand that nobody toyed with Lozada and got away with it. Maybe he would force Threadgill to watch. Oh, yes.
Threadgill would pay dearly for taking what Lozada had claimed as his.
"Mr. Smith?"