Page 10 of Ruining Hattie

BASTION

I arrive in Wisconsin the following week with a smile.

My lawyer called shortly after I landed to let me know that I’m the proud new owner of a manufacturing business in all things ventilation. It wouldn’t be exciting except for the part that it’s where Hattie works.

I’m almost giddy. It’s finally time to put my plan into action. The trap has been set, today I’ll lay the bait, and this time next week, I’ll spring the trap.

But first, I have to deal with the man I found in Hattie’s apartment last week. Mr. Smith sent me a dossier on him a few days ago. Turns out he’s the landlord of a few buildings in town, including the one where Hattie rents her apartment.

He’s also a registered sex offender. What are the chances that the piece of shit only sneaks into Hattie’s apartment? Pretty slim.

He reminds me of the men who used to take advantage of my mother when I was young. I don’t like men who prey on the weak. I was once the weak they preyed on too.

I think it’s time for someone to teach this asshole a lesson. And I’m not doing this for Hattie. I’m doing it for the other women and children he’s preying on.

After I check into my room at the hotel, I head out in search of Russell Balcom. The two of us need to come to an understanding.

Following the GPS directions, I drive past Russell’s nondescript bungalow and park down the street.

A quick assessment tells me that the best plan of attack is to make my way into his backyard through his neighbor’s—I don’t spot any cameras, and there are a couple newspapers on the front porch that make me think they’re away.

People are so fucking stupid sometimes. Why not just take out an ad in the local paper that says you’re out of town?

I put the black mask on my face and pull down my ball cap as far as it will go, then exit my car.

Moving quickly, I gain entry into the neighbor’s yard.

It’s a two-story home with a walkout basement, and the deck off their kitchen allows me to look into Russell’s yard.

There’s no sign of him, a dog, or anything concerning.

After identifying which window I want to use, I climb off the deck and hop the fence, dropping to my feet in the grass. Quickly, I approach the house, peeking through the window to make sure I don’t see anyone.

The coast is clear. I came prepared today, and I pull out my lockpick. It’s an old door, so it won’t take me long.

Sure, I could bust the door down, but I don’t know if he’s inside, and I want to preserve the element of surprise.

Within minutes, I push open the door to the laundry room. I’m careful to be quiet as I move farther into the house. There’s a TV on in what sounds like the living room I spotted in front of the house when I drove by, so I assume the lazy piece of shit is in there.

I move forward, stopping every couple of feet to listen. There’s still just the sound of the TV. If there were a dog, he would have already sniffed and searched me out by now.

I’m in the kitchen, which has an opening that looks onto the dining room. Beside that is the living room.

When I peek around the wall, I’m ready to ambush him should he be facing me. But he’s in a chair facing a TV in the corner with his back to me. I grin against the mask on my face. Too easy.

The curtains on the front window are closed, though they’re only sheers, and they allow some light to filter through.

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’m not 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.