Page 103 of For a Price

The intense rage I’m feeling masks the other deeper emotion buried inside me—the slow-growing panic that I might not find her. That if I finally do locate her whereabouts, it’ll be too late.

We make our next stop on the map of locations she could be.

Her friend Rosita looks on the verge of passing out when we show up on her doorstep. She’s a curvy woman with long, curly hair and light brown skin whose complexion loses some of its color the second she sees us.

“P-please… I’m not sure where she is,” she stammers out. “I’m… I’m just a hairstylist and a single mom. I don’t want any trouble.”

Her fear is genuine. I can smell it on her as she quakes and barely meets my eyes.

This is the woman Katerina insisted she be able to call. This is the one friend she claimed to have.

My intention showing up is unlike the other locations we’ve visited. Rosita won’t be hurt so long as she’s not involved in what’s going on.

Typically, I prefer not to hurt women if it can be avoided. In my world, they’re often used as pawns by the men who are really in charge.

“I have questions for you,” I say, walking her back. My men follow inside her apartment, shutting the door and obediently standing guard. “You answer the questions, no harm will come your way.”

“S-she’s been calling me… from an unknown number. That’s all I know. I promise! Please,” she sobs, covering her face.

I grab her wrists and pry her hands away. “Do you know a man named JC Howell?”

Sniffling, she nods. “Sort of. Kat worked with him on… stuff.”

“I know they were in a criminal gang together. What can you tell me about him?”

“N-not much. He came around looking for her a few days ago. He was upset about Fozzil’s passing.”

“What was he wearing? Where did he go?”

“A hoodie and some ripped jeans. I didn’t see where he went. I’m sorry, I was just trying to get inside my apartment as quick as I could. I told Kat about it. The last time we talked…”

“You did?” My eyes narrow.

“Yesterday,” she says, tears leaking down her cheeks. “I told her about that and the Russian men who’ve come by. Not you. Others. They’ve been looking for her.”

I loom closer to the frightened woman, processing every new piece of info she’s providing. Even if she doesn’t grasp how helpful it is, what she’s said are things I didn’t know.

“What kind of Russian men? Describe them.”

Ten minutes later, we leave Rosita Garcia’s apartment with more information than when we arrived. The men she’s described sound unfamiliar. They’re not men from Uncle Leonid’s crew or my father’s main crew of men. Did my father use others knowing I would suspect his most prominent soldiers?

“Keep an eye on her apartment. Make sure no one else stops by to harm her.”

I think of Katerina as I give the command to my crew.

It’s what she would want—her best friend protected against whomever is trying to fuck with us.

Now, if only I could do the same for Katerina. If I could figure out where the hell she’s been taken.

“Hold on,” I whisper, returning to the group of Hummers we’ve brought. “Hold on, kitty cat. I’m coming.”

“Zver, you have a visitor,” my soldier Dmitri announces.

We’ve arrived at the factory that’s my central operations. All seventy-five inches of him stands stoic and resolute, waiting for me as I hop out of the Hummer and start for the factory doors. He falls into step with me to inform me of this visitor.

“She said she might have some information that’s of interest,” he says. “I was going to turn her away, but she insisted.”

“I have no fucking time to waste. It better be important.”

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