The floorboards under the carpet creak when I’m about three feet away from him, and I watch him straighten in his chair before his head whips around. His eyes widen in alarm when he finally realizes he’s not alone.
I surge forward as he’s straightening to get up from his chair, and when he’s standing, I tackle him to the floor. He lands underneath me with an oomph, and I straddle his chest, pinning his arms with my legs.
“Who the fuck are you?” he shouts.
Thank fuck Mr. Smith’s intel about this guy said he lives alone, otherwise, he’d definitely draw attention from someone else living here.
“You should worry more about why I’m here,” I growl.
He tries to buck me off him, but I’ve got thirty pounds on him, and I’m twenty years younger.
“So you like sneaking into the apartments of the young girls you rent to, do you?”
I had Mr. Smith do some digging on the other properties Russell owns, and wouldn’t you know it, most of them are rented to women in their twenties.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I slam a fist into his face. “You’ll get one of those each time you lie. Let’s try this again. You sneak into the apartments of the pretty young women you rent to, don’t you?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
When I land a punch to his face this time, his nose squirts blood. It’s broken.
The piece of shit whines and cries.
“Last chance, Russell.”
His eyes widen a little when I use his name. Good, maybe he’s finally figured out he might not know me, but I know him.
“Fine,” he says between gritted teeth. “I do it. What do you care?”
“I care when I know someone is preying on the weak.”
I ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me I’m doing the same thing to Hattie. Am I not the predator and she the prey?
But that’s for an entirely different reason and circumstance. I’m not going to force Hattie to do anything she doesn’t want to. She’s going to be a willing participant the entire time.
“You’re a sick fuck, aren’t you?”
He shakes his head back and forth in a desperate attempt to convince me that he’s harmless.
“Men like you make me sick.” An image of Stan flashes through my mind, and I shake my head to clear it. “I want you to stay out of those apartments, Russell. If I find out you’ve been slipping in and going through any more underwear drawers, one of two things is going to happen. I’ll either take care of the problem—you—myself, or I’ll call the police and provide them with proof of what you’re doing. Do you think they’ll let you out of jail this time?”
I don’t have proof of him going into the apartments, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Tears glisten in his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Wrong answer.” I hit him again, busting his lip. “Do we have an understanding?”
He’s sniveling and crying now, but he gives me a shaky nod.
“Good.” I lean my weight into my legs, pressing into his arms, and he cringes. “And don’t even think about calling the cops to report this. If you do, I’ll have my own report for them. You understand?”
He nods on a shaky exhale.
“I’m glad we see eye to eye on this. And don’t think just because I haven’t made my presence known that it means I’mnot watching.” I get up off the floor and give him a swift kick to the gut that should leave him breathless long enough for me to get out of here in case he has a gun hidden in the cushions or something.
After Russell’s taken care of, I head back to the hotel to have a shower before I meet Hattie, who will be none the wiser that I just did her a favor. She should be thanking me really, but by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be doing the opposite.
