Read Online The Sweetheart Racket by Cheryl Ann Smith - Free Book Online

exciting hobby or job. Heck, some lie about their looks or even their gender. It’s all about being a more exciting person. There’s a TV show about this.”
    â€œAnd you think you can do this to Brinkman?” It was an interesting concept. He should watch more TV.
    â€œMaybe. But we need to find him first. If he goes back on Match-Mate, it’ll be easy. We’ll compile a profile that he can’t resist. Then we’ll hook him. Otherwise, we’ll set up a Match-Mate profile anyway and hope he surfaces. It’s harder that way, with so many women for him to dig through.”
    She weaved left and right around several cars at a high rate of speed. He didn’t bother to release the strap when she finally settled in the right lane. There were more slow-moving cars ahead.
    â€œBetter yet, if he’s a fellow crappy driver, maybe you could run into him at court-mandated driving school?”
    Taryn shot him a sideways glance. “Remind me again why I let you tag along?”
    â€œBecause I’m paying you?”
    â€œNot enough, clearly.”
    Despite the slim odds of Brinkman heading back to the dating site under his current alias, Rick had a feeling the man would screw up somehow and get caught by the Brash team. The guy may be married to Honey, but Taryn was wrong about one thing. Rick had worked around felons long enough to know that creaking bones and fading eyesight wouldn’t get Brinkman out of the game. Eventually, he’d be back hunting on familiar ground and they’d get him.
    â€œBrinkman doesn’t stand a chance against Brash & Brazen girls.”
    She made a face and braked at a stop sign. “I’m not a brash girl, Agent Silva.”
    â€œI never thought you were.”
    Their eyes met and held. Taryn looked away first.
    He’d done right by hiring Taryn and her team. He was confident they’d find Brinkman and drag his sorry ass to jail.
    â€œI agree that the Social Security number could be a huge lead, if it’s real,” he said. “Any time Brinkman uses it, Summer will be on him. He can’t hide.”
    â€œYes, but he hasn’t used it since before your mother,” she said, tamping down her earlier excitement. “He’s either using a new ID and Social, or perhaps he recently died. You never know. ‘Hot’ Honey may have given the guy a heart attack.”
    â€œI’ve already considered the possibility Brinkman was dead. That would be too easy, and unfortunate. I want him alive.”
    â€œStill, we can’t rule that out,” she said.
    â€œThey haven’t been seen together, before or after the wedding, by any neighbors and I didn’t find obituaries under his aliases.” He paused and a dark thought emerged. “Worst case, he might have killed her.”
    â€œHe hasn’t been violent in the past, that we know of, so let’s think positively. I’m hoping Mrs. Clark can give us more insight into your Casanova.”
    Rick hoped so, too. The longer Brinkman was on the run, the better his chances of spending all the stolen money. “Where does she live?”
    â€œAbout three miles outside of Toledo.”
    Forty-five minutes and a fast food breakfast drive-through stop for Rick later, they drove into a quiet neighborhood of large houses, landscaped yards, and a narrow meandering road gilded in gold. Okay, not really gold, but he was convinced they were in a sparkling Oz for wealthy people, with not one house on the street coming in at less than a million dollars.
    A woman pushing a stroller stared, suspiciously, as if they were burglars looking for a house to rob. The car certainly fit that bill. His tattooed arm perched in the open window further confirmed that they didn’t belong.
    Rick gave her a little wave and wondered if she’d be calling 911 before they even rounded the first bend.
    Taryn slowed to check the address on a mailbox and pulled up the