Once I’m in my car, I punch the address into the GPS nav and wait for it to calculate while I flip through the folder again, memorizing the target’s face. Michael Heller.
While I drive, I picture exactly what I’m going to do to him. He likes to exploit kids? No fucking mercy.
As I fly down the highway, my thoughts are torn between the job I have tonight and the beautiful man I left behind. I sureas fuck never saw myself wanting to keep someone around, but being with Rue feels like finding buried treasure. I want to hoard him, protect him, adore him. Could I love him? Fuck if I know, but I’m damn sure open to trying.
Surprised laughter bubbles out of me. Me in a relationship? Love? What the actual fuck? Maybe Shadow is right and there’s something in the water at Crestvale House poisoning us with feelings.
I make it to the target’s house in eighteen minutes and slow down as I turn onto his street. There are some dim lights on in the front, but there are no cars in the drive or parked out front. Could it be my lucky night and he’s alone?
I park a few houses away and exit the car, creeping along silently. It’s not late, so the possibility of running into a neighbor is certainly there. Ducking behind some shrubbery, I make my way to the gate and slip into the backyard. The back of the house is all glass, making it very easy for me to see the target sitting alone on the sofa, looking down at his phone.
I watch for several minutes to make sure he’s truly alone, while also surveying the house for cameras, motion-activated lights, or any other kind of security, but it looks pretty low tech. He’s probably arrogant enough to think his money keeps him safe. He’s wrong. Dead wrong, if I want to be specific. I chuckle at my own dark humor and creep farther into the yard.
There’s not much room for me to stay out of sight given the windows, so there’s only one way to handle this. I decide to head back to the front and simply knock on the door, pulling my hood up in case there are any neighbors paying attention, but people in posh neighborhoods like this tend to keep to themselves.
I ring the bell and knock, shuffling my feet as I wait for Michael to answer. I hear him grumbling before he reaches the door, yanks it open, and glares at me.
“What?” he snaps.
“Michael Heller?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Call me Justice.”
I shove his chest, forcing him back, and step inside, closing the door behind me and sliding the deadbolt.
Michael looks more confused than panicked. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready.”
He tenses, pressing himself against the wall. “What do you want? Money? I can hook you up.”
“Nah, I’m good. Why don’t we have a little talk?”
I motion to the living room, a panicked expression taking over Michael’s features. He tears off for the back door, but I lunge forward, grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming him to the floor.
He rolls onto his back, wildly swinging at me with his eyes closed, but he doesn’t even graze me. I grip his neck, squeezing hard enough to get his attention. He’s no match for me. He’s soft, middle-aged, and clearly hasn’t seen the inside of a gym in a long time.
“I’ll snap your fucking neck,” I growl.
He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay. Just tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything.”
“I want you to tell me why. Why do sick fucks like you want to hurt kids? What the fuck happened to you to make you find children attractive, you fucking monster?”
Michael’s eyes go wide and his breathing quickens.
“Answer me and maybe I’ll make it hurt less.”
He presses his lips closed, his eyes darting as he looks for a way out. I lift his head then smack it against his marble floors. He grunts with pain, blinking several times.
“Answer me.” When he doesn’t, I smash my fist into his jaw. “I got all night, motherfucker. Or should I call you a kid fucker?”
“I-I don’t know, man,” he blurts. “I don’t know why I’m like this.”
“So you just wake up one day and think ‘yeah, I’d like to fuck a kid’ and you do it? You don’t, I don’t know, get some fucking therapy?”
He just stares at me, his mouth slack. He can’t explain it. They never can. They’re sick, but instead of getting help, they act on it.