The Crush Part 20

"Why, what happened to it?"

"He shaves it."

Wick let his jaw drop. "Get out!"

"I swear."

Wick looked at her with feigned respect and awe. "And you're this guy's girlfriend?"

"Well, not officially." She cast her eyes down and trailed a finger along his arm. "I mean, he's crazy about me and all. He's just not the type that shows his feelings, you know?"

"Have you ever seen him with any other women?"

"No."

"Any ever come up to his fancy apartment?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, yeah. And I would know. I pay attention to detail.

There's never been a trace of another woman in the place and believe me, I check things out while I'm cleaning. I'm always on the lookout for one of those d.a.m.n scorpions. If one ever got out I would freakin' s.h.i.t."

"Scorpions?"

Wick knew about Lozada's fascination with them, but it chilled him anew to hear Sally tell about the climate-controlled tank. "I keep my eyes open when I'm in there."

"What about his phone?"

"His phone?"

"You ever answer it for him?"

"Are you serious? I'd be fired for sure. Besides, he only uses a cell."

"Have you ever heard him talking on it?"

"Once, but I didn't hear what he was saying."

"So you don't know if he was talking to a woman?"

She withdrew slightly and gave him an odd look. "Hey, what is this?"

He smiled and patted the hand still resting on his thigh. "Just trying to help you out, Sally. Looking for signs that the guy is seeing someone else. But it sounds to me like you've got no compet.i.tion."

She snuggled closer. Both b.r.e.a.s.t.s were propped on his forearm now. "You're cool, Rick. Would you like to go to my place? I've got booze."

"Hey, I don't want this Lozada character after my a.s.s."

"I see other guys too."

"I thought you liked him."

"I do. He's good-looking and wears the coolest clothes."

"And he's rich."

"For sure."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Well, he ... scares me a little."

"He doesn't hit you, does he?"

"No. Well, sorta. I mean, he doesn't actually hit, but like the other night, he warned me not to talk--"

"Wick, what the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

Wick swiveled around. Oren was standing behind them, glowering.

Sally, glowering back, asked crossly, "Who's this?"

"My partner. Oren, meet Sally."

"Did you say partner?"

"That's right."

"You're a f.a.g}"

Her screech drew the attention of nearly everyone in the bar. Even Steve McQueen seemed to do a double-take from the TV screen. Sally dismounted the stool with a hop that caused the b.r.e.a.s.t.s, of which she was so proud, to bounce like a pair of water balloons. She stamped away on her platform heels.

"I'd still like to see you dance sometime," Wick called after her.

"Bite me," she hollered back.

Oren grabbed him by the back of his collar and practically dragged him through the exit. Once they were outside, he gave Wick a shove that nearly sent him sprawling.

"I've been looking all over town for you."

Wick spun around. "You push me again, Oren, and you'll regret it."

Oren looked ready not only to push him, but to slug him. "I've had every cop on the force on the lookout for your truck."

"What for?"

"Because I didn't trust you not to do something stupid."

Oren took several heavy breaths as though forcibly tamping down his anger. "What's the matter with you, Wick?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing my a.s.s. You're sulky, edgy, disagreeable. Argumentative.

Defensive. Thigpen was right on when he called you a jerk."

"Then why don't you and Thigpen get together and suck each other's d.i.c.k. I'm going home."

Oren grabbed him by the shoulder and, heedless of Wick's warning, pushed him backward against the wall. He held him pinned there with one strong forearm across his chest. Oren's first beat had been in a tough neighborhood rife with gangs and drugs, but he was just as tough as the criminal offenders and had come to be respected and feared by the meanest of the mean. He and Joe.

"This time I'm not going to let you get away with copping an att.i.tude. That's too easy. You've got a bee up your b.u.t.t, and I want to know what it is. If Joe were here--"

"But he isn't," Wick shouted.

"If he were," Oren shouted back, "he'd pound it out of you."

"Leave me the h.e.l.l alone." Wick pushed him aside, knowing he could do so only because Oren allowed it.

"Is it her?"

Wick turned. "Who?"

Oren shook his head, looked at him with a mix of aggravation and pity. "She's bad news, Wick. A wh.o.r.e dressed up in a doctor suit."

"She's not."

'You heard so yourself. From those people in Dalton.

She f.u.c.ked--"

Wick took the first swing, but the last Wild Turkey had finally kicked in. It hampered his speed and his aim. Oren caught it in the shoulder, which was padded with plenty of muscle. Oren's fist caught Wick on the chin, which wasn't padded with anything. He actually heard his skin split. Felt the blood spurt.

Mercifully, Oren grabbed him by the front of his shirt before his knees gave way. He pulled him close and held him face-to-face. "A few days before he was shot, Raymond Collier's wife filed for divorce. She cited adultery. Guess who was named correspondent."

Before he heaved up the bourbon on a public sidewalk, Wick pushed away from Oren, turned, and headed toward the parking lot where he'd left his pickup, which had apparently been spotted by a tattletale cop. It hadn't been that hard for Oren to find him.

"Wick!"

He stopped, then came around and aimed a threatening finger at Oren. "If you ever talk about her like that again ..." He was breathing hard. Gasping, in fact. He couldn't deliver the warning with the impetus he wished.

He had to get out of there, fast. So he settled on 'Just don't, Oren. Just don't."

"You shouldn't be driving, Wick. Let me take you to the motel. Or to my house."

Wick turned away and kept walking.

From the driver's seat of an SUV parked in a metered slot on the street, Lozada watched the scene play out between Wick and Joe Threadgill's former partner, Oren Wesley.

He was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the exchange was angry.

To Lozada's delight, they actually swapped punches.

This was better than he ever could have antic.i.p.ated. Dissension within the ranks. Strife between good friends.

Everybody close to Wick Threadgill was p.i.s.sed at him. Perfect.

Earlier he'd had the pleasure of revealing Wick's profession to Rennie. While she was still trying to a.s.similate that, he had added the furthermore. Furthermore, the FWPD had her under surveillance.

Earlier, after Wick had left her with those two cute blasts of his horn, Lozada had trailed him around the block to a house that was supposedly under reconstruction.

Since he had been the object of surveillance himself,

he knew the signs: three cars parked out front, including Wick's pickup. Building materials scattered around but no evidence of actual work being done. An empty Dumpster in the front yard. These were stage props, the police department's clumsy attempts to put one over on Lozada. How absurd of them to think they ever could. "They're watching you from a house on the street behind yours," he had told Rennie. "You're lying." "I wish I were, my dear." "Why would they be watching me}" "I suppose because of your murdered colleague." Coldly, she said, "I don't believe you." But she had. Within seconds of hanging up on him she had left her house at a jog and run around the block straight to the other house. She was inside for several minutes before emerging, visibly upset, with Threadgill on her heels. Neither of them paid any attention to the SUV parked nearby. There were no records of his ownership of this car. The police didn't know to look for it. They followed his Mercedes, and he tolerated that. But when he didn't want to be followed he drove this SUV. He had been parked within eavesdropping distance of the conversation during which Rennie told Wick she never wanted to see him again. G.o.d, what a sensational sight-his Rennie telling off Wick Threadgill, in terms that even a dimwitted cop like him could understand. From his observation point Lozada felt the heat waves of anger coming off her. It gave him an erection. If she made love with even a fraction of that heat she was going to be well worth the trouble. She had returned home. Lozada had wanted nothing more than to join her there and begin phase two of his seduction, but his focus was, of necessity, Threadgill. He had followed him as far as the bar, where he had no doubt gone to drown his sorrows. Poor Wick, Lozada thought now as he watched him storm away from Wesley. First he'd been put down by Rennie, now by his longtime friend. The c.o.c.ky b.a.s.t.a.r.d didn't look so c.o.c.ky anymore.

A sudden knocking on the pa.s.senger window of his SUV caused him to react reflexively. Less than an eye-blink later, the barrel of a small pistol was aimed at Sally Horton's astonished face. 'Jesus, it's just me," she exclaimed through the window gla.s.s. "I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. What're you doing parked out here?" Lozada wanted to snuff her right then for drawing attention to him. Wesley was still across the street, talking to one of the policemen who patrolled Sundance on bicycle.

"Get lost."

"Can't I join you?" she whined.

Lozada stretched across the console and opened the

pa.s.senger-side door. He would rather have her inside than yelling at him through the window. She climbed in.

"Where's your Mercedes? Not that this isn't cool too." She ran her hand over the glove-soft leather upholstery.