Page 6 of My Stupid Heart

“Come on, kiddo.”She stood up and offered Sasha a hand to pull her out of her chair—not that she needed it.“That big macho lug won’t let us get away with not giving him jobs, so we need to wander around the house and see what needs fixing.”

“I can kick some holes in the walls if need be.”

That was just the splash of humor Molly’s tender heart needed.She wrapped a protective arm around her child and kissed the side of her head.“Hopefully, we can find a few things for him to do before we resort to such extreme measures.But … if we have to, we will.”

AdrianMichaelHuberlivedin apartment 8A at twenty-eight Glacier Way.

He drove a blue Ford Ranger and had eight thousand dollars in his savings account.

He belonged to Mountain Fitness Co., where he went every morning between five-thirty and six-thirty.Then he drove to the coffee shop on the corner, bought an everything bagel with cream cheese and a flat white coffee before returning home to shower and get ready for his day job.

He worked as an insurance broker for Snowcap Insurance from eight-thirty to four.He didn’t take a lunch break, but chose to eat his ham and cheese sandwich at his desk.This allowed him to end his day half an hour early, so he had time to drive to the soccer field for practice.

Ryker could have figured this all out by tailing Adrian for a day, but it was easier to field this crap out.Luckily, he knew a guy who knew a guy who got everything he would ever need on Adrian, and it was all sent to Ryker’s phone by the time his plane touched down.

Sometimes the gray area of the law was a really helpful place to be.

He pulled his black Chevy Silverado rental up to the curb in front of Adrian’s apartment building.It was only a two-story complex with what looked like four units on the bottom at the front and four units on the top at the front.The same setup was probably in the back.

They were all walk-ups with the upper units having stairs.

Adrian’s unit was on the top right corner, and based on his open windows and the flash of the television screen, the prick was home.

Excellent.

Brass knuckles, switchblades and garrotte wire were all illegal, but definitely easier to conceal than a gun.He also just preferred the weight of brass knuckles or a blade in his hand.And there was something very satisfying about the crunch of bone when your fist made contact with a well-deserving face.

He had all three in his pockets, as well as a cute little 9mm stashed at the back of his waistband.He had a license for his gun and was a registered gun owner.Open carry was legal in Wyoming anyway, so he could have strapped the 9mm to his chest and walked straight up to Adrian’s door.

But where was the fun in that?

He made sure his boots didn’t create a sound on the stairs as he climbed to Adrian’s front door.He also kept his face hidden beneath the brim of a ball cap.There were probably cameras.

A gentle rap of his knuckles against the door, and a thumb over the peephole, and it was less than twenty seconds before the door swung open.

He was inside, with Adrian’s shirt front in his fist and the door slammed shut before the creepy soccer coach could even say a goddamn word.

Shoving the man up against the wall, he got right into Adrian’s face.“Do you know why I’m here?”

Wide brown eyes stared at him with mounting fear.“N-no.Wh-who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter.It’s who Irepresentthat matters.”

Adrian swallowed.“I-I don’t have anything.I-I don’t owe anybody any money.Y-you have the wr-wrong guy.”

“I don’t think I do.”Ryker bracketed his forearm against Adrian’s throat and wedged a knee against his groin in case he decided to take a chance and run.Then he brought out his phone and brought up all the information Chase—his intel collector—had gathered for him.“Adrian Michael Huber.Son of Alice and Alfred Huber.Born February 19th1983.You have an older sister, Adella, who lives in San Francisco with her husband, Adam, and their three kids—Arvin, Alyssa and Amanda.Jesus, you people and you’reAnames.Give it a rest already.”

“I … I don’t understand.”

“You work at Snowcap Insurance as a broker and coach teenage girls’ soccer.You also have a habit of benching your best players because you can’t take rejection.You’re a jealous, predatory bastard who spies on women with cameras, reads their text messages and kills their cats.Stop me if I’m wrong.”

Adrian’s throat bobbed heavily.“I … I need you to leave.I’ll call the police.”

“Go ahead,” Ryker said with a smile that made a lot of people piss their pants in fear.“I’ll even give you a five second head start.”Then he released Adrian and stepped back.

Like an absolute idiot who thought he actually had a fucking chance, Adrian darted into the living room, presumably where his phone was.

“One Mississippi … two Mississippi … three Mississippi … four Mississippi … five Mississippi,” Ryker counted before joining Adrian back in the living room and pinning the man to the floor by sweeping his legs out from under him.His phone flew across the room.He hadn’t even started to call 911.

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