Page 53 of For a Price

current address is in west garfield

I grunt to myself, then quickly send a response.

ready some men. have the vehicle waiting for me. we are going on a side quest.

I put my phone down and glance at the other side of the bed. Katerina hasn’t moved in hours. She’s bundled up under the thick duvet, resting almost as deeply as she had the other night after her attack. She was out for hours. No amount of noise disturbed her.

It’s the same now as my phone vibrates and I’m wide awake. She hasn’t fully recovered yet.

My hand reaches out to stroke the back of her head. For all her complaints about sleeping in my bed, she’s at peace. Her sleep isn’t the fitful, distressed kind. Her body’s relaxed as ifsubconsciously she recognizes no danger is around. She’s in a safe space.

“You will come to like being here, devochka,” I whisper. “You will enjoy being mine.”

I’m coming out of the shower when she wakes up. I walk out wrapping the towel around my waist as she’s sitting up looking drowsy and confused, like she’s questioning her surroundings. Then her pretty brown eyes land on me and widen in surprise.

It all comes back to her. She remembers where she is.

But I’m much more interested in how my kitty cat looks first thing in the morning.

Her nightgown has slipped partially off, the strap hanging on her upper arm and the neckline tugged so low, I can almost see her fucking titties. I can already see her puffy dark nipples poking against the silk, as if begging to be free.

I must look wolfish, because she realizes where my hungry gaze is focused and hurries to cover her chest. Her arms come up and she tries to fix the way the nightgown hangs on her body.

“Too late, devochka,” I taunt. “I already saw you. There is no hiding from me.”

“How are you such a pervert so early in the morning? Most people need coffee first.”

I grin at her, crossing the room to the closet. “Because there is work to get done. I will be gone most of the day. You will remain here.”

“But—”

“Behave yourself. You don’t want to be punished, do you?”

Her expression that follows is a funny one. A mix between fear and curiosity, like she’s wondering just what kind of punishment would come if she reallydiddisobey.

“Where are you going?” she asks, appearing in the closet doorway.

I’m sliding into my pants. I throw a glance at her from over my shoulder. “I’ve told you. My work is none of your concern. Pets do not need to know the inner workings of the bratva.”

“I’m not a pet.”

Zipping up my pants, I stalk toward her. My fingers curl around her jaw and I tip her face up toward mine. “You’re right, devochka. You are notapet. You aremypet.”

I’m tempted to kiss her lips. Find out for myself if they feel as soft and pillowy as they look. I barely resist, reminding myself there will be time for that soon.

But, first, it’s time to handle some business.

“Deb, didn’t I tell you about leaving the back door unlocked?” grumbles Richard Hudson. He’s balding with a cockeye and gut that hangs over the front of his pajama pants. Armpit stains darken the otherwise faded undershirt he has on, so dingy no amount of detergent or bleach will ever make it truly clean again.

He shuffles into the kitchen scratching his ass and pulling the refrigerator door open.

“Deb? DEB!”

“God damn it, Rich, WHAT?!” his wife hollers back.

“Where’s my meatloaf? You said you saved me some!”

“In the goddamn microwave where it always is!”

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