Lost Hart (The Harty Boys Book 2) by Whitley Cox

Author:Whitley Cox [Cox, Whitley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989081440
Publisher: Whitley Cox
Published: 2021-03-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

“So you put the gear on, pick your weapon and smash the shit out of stuff,” Richelle said, handing Stacey a pair of safety goggles. “Best way to get the rage, the hurt, the pent-up energy and aggression out without maiming anyone.

“Plus, Luna makes art and mosaics and stuff out of the broken dishes, so you’re helping contribute to her medium,” Richelle added. She held out the protective gloves.

Stacey glanced at Heath. “You’ve been here before?”

“When I was working for Richelle’s client. Came here with Richelle’s daughter.” He turned to Richelle. “How is Mallory?”

“Still stubborn as hell, but she’s doing well, thanks. Asks about you.”

Stacey wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the surfer-haired beefcake blush before, but he did, adding in a cheesy grin just for good measure. “She’s a good kid.”

“With a major crush on a man nearly twice her age,” Richelle said with an eye roll.

“Perhaps in another lifetime,” Heath said, raking his fingers through his tresses. His whole demeanor had shifted since Richelle had told him he wasn’t invited to The Rage Room. He’d been quieter. More serious. She knew Heath loved Connor, and Connor loved Heath, so it had to be taking its toll on the blond teddy bear just like it was on the rest of them. His lips lifted up briefly on one side. “Tell her that any man lucky enough to date her will have to deal with me if he breaks her heart.”

Richelle’s smile was knowing and almost coy. “You and an army of her father’s friends.”

A woman with a shock of pink hair, tattoos on her arms and piercings came out of the room behind the Plexiglas. “All set.”

“Thanks, Luna,” Richelle said with a smile. She turned to Stacey. “What’s your weapon of choice? I highly recommend the crowbar. Packs one hell of a wallop.”

“I’m partial to the metal baseball bat myself,” Luna chimed in. “Can’t go wrong with the nine iron either.”

Stacey let her eyes roam the wall of weapons. They all looked like they would effectively torture a microwave into giving up all its plans for world domination. But her gaze kept falling on the long, black, L-shaped tire iron.

“Sometimes one just speaks to you,” Luna said gently.

The tire iron was speaking to Stacey. Images of her taking the iron to the face of the woman from the dollar store flashed into her mind. Of shattering the kneecaps, then skull of the man who was driving the getaway car. She picked the weapon off the wall, pulled the goggles down over her eyes, the gloves onto her hands and stepped into the room.

Before she closed the door behind her, Luna said, “Nothing is off limits. Just get it all out. This is meant to be cathartic.”

“How long do we have?” Richelle asked Luna quietly.

“Long as you need,” Luna said. “I put a closed for private event sign on the door, so nobody will bother you. Take all the time you need.” She rested a cool, delicate hand on Stacey’s shoulder before heading back down the hallway.

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