“You’re too ugly not to be related to Veloz. Brother?”
“Cousin,” he replied.
Now, we’re getting somewhere, Sin thought. “Where the hell did you come from. I killed every maggot in that building.”
He took another pull off his cigar. “I work the other end. While my cousin sat around getting fat and stupid, I was collecting the girls.” He leaned forward in the chair. “You didn’t see me because you got sloppy. You were too worried about the girl,” he pointed his cigar at Tia, “to see me jump off the back of the truck in front of the building. When I saw no guards and couldn’t reach my cousin, I grabbed a shovel from the side of the building and snuck up on you.” He had a grin on his face almost as big as his ego as he rehashed the story.
Sin’s demeanor didn’t change. “Who’s running this show?”
“You did me a favor when you killed Sebastian.” He finger pointed his chest. “Now, I am running show.”
“Buull-shit,” Sin elongated the word for emphasis. “If that was true, I’d be dead. You take your orders from someone else.”
She could see him getting flustered with the questions. Sin knew if she continued to push him, she would have him questioning his own thoughts. That made her smile—on the inside. “You think you’re a big man—a man in charge?” she said. “You mean nothing to them. You’re as dead as I am.”
The man flew off the chair and backhanded Sin. “I run show!”
He stormed through the cabin and slammed the door shut.
Sin licked the blood off her lip. He’s dumber than I thought. That makes him dangerous.
Her eyes went to the table―and her lighter.
Second mistake.
35
Sweat dripped onto the dark mahogany desk as Jeremiah Heap held the phone away from his ear.
“You listen to me!” bellowed the electronic voice. “I will pop that over inflated ego and bust in your fucking skull if you say another word.”
“I . . . I . . . I was just trying to—”
“Not a-nother god damn word.” Anger rasped through the phone line. “You’re being paid a shitload of money to rent out your studio and to keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?”
“There are rumors going around that I had something to do with the dead girls,” he hissed. “I am not taking the fall for something I was never a part of.”
“If I want you to take the fall, you will. I dragged your fat ass out of a shit pile from the bayou of New Orleans and plopped you in the lap of luxury of the Florida Keys, and I can put you right back there. Is that understood?”
Heap wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve and slammed his fist onto his desk. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, but I’m not part of this―whatever this is.”
Laughter could be heard funneling through the cell phone. “You really are just a dumb Southern preacher, aren’t you? Do as you’re told and you’ll be fine. Step out of line and I’ll see that you get locked up, not just for murder, but as a pedophile.”
Heap could hear his pulse emanating in his ear like waves crashing on the shore line.
“And we both know what happens to pedophiles in jail.”
Heap jerked his phone away from his ear as the caller slammed the phone down. He felt defeated as he stared at the black screen of his cell phone, his heart pounding against his chest wall, as if trying to break out of its own prison.
“Is everything all right?”
Heap looked up and stared at his wife. He hadn’t even heard her come in.
She stood by the door that connected their offices. She had a tanned complexion, was moderately dressed, yet she oozed an innocent sex appeal—she was the embodiment of everything he ever wanted. The reason he was in the trouble he was.
She liked nice things and he was determined to be able to provide them. That was why he agreed to rent the studio to an anonymous tenant and why he tried so hard to grow his flock.
“Jeremiah, are you even listening to me?”
Her voice—as tender as a baby bird, yet as compelling as a seductive songstress—snapped him out of his inner thoughts. He plastered a Sunday morning smile on his harried face. “I’m fine darlin’. Just some financial issues to deal with, that’s all.”
She sashayed toward him and pecked him on the cheek. “As long as everything is fine, I’m going to take the day and go to Coral Gables for a little dress shopping. There is just no place for a lady to find a decent article of clothing down here.”
Heap’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled in a sigh. “Why don’t you just go to Key West? Coral Gables is a three hour drive and I don’t like you driving back at night.”
Maggie smiled and fluttered her fake eye lashes at him. “I said no place to shop for a lady, and I’ll find a hotel to stay for the evening and come back in the morning.”
Heap dropped his head and shook it in defeat. “Fine, just be gentle on the credit cards.”
She lifted his head and gently kissed his lips—her perfume lingering on his skin. “See you tomorrow,” she said ending the embrace.
36
“I’m worried about the fat man,” the modulated voice said.
“I’ll make sure the prophet capitulates,” came another electronically altered voice—a higher pitched voice. “You just get me that shipment. We have a couple of new subscribers for the next show and I plan on giving them their money’s worth.”
“You sound excited.”
“You’ve never complained before.”
A sadistic laugh was shared between the two.
“What’s the story with O’Malley?” said the higher voice.
“She’ll arrive with the shipment.”
“Which is when?”
“The boat should be there by early morning.”
“That doesn’t leave us much time, we go live at one a.m. the following day.”
“Not my problem.”
There was a hesitation before the conversation continued. “I’m glad this is the last show. Things
