Page 54 of For a Price

He slams the refrigerator shut hard enough for it to rattle and mutters under his breath, “How can I forget, fat bitch? Probably about to eat it yourself.”

He presses the buttons on the microwave, setting the timer to two minutes. He’s moving onto the drawer to grab a knife and fork when we make ourselves known.

Me and my men step out from where we’ve been lurking, filling out the space in the small kitchen all at once.

Richard screams and jumps back. The knife and fork slip out of his hand and clatter on the tiled floor.

“Who—what—HOW!?” he chokes out. “Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you think you’re doing in my home!?”

I click my tongue, standing in front of my group of men. “Is that any way to greet visitors to your home, Richie? I expect more hospitality.”

“Hospitality? For what reason? Get the fuck outta my house!”

“Richard!” crows his wife from the other room. “Who are you talking to?”

“Will you be useful for once in your goddamn life and call the police?!” he snaps back. “We’ve got intru—ACK!”

He hacks out a cough as my arm whips out to grip him by the throat and cut him off mid-sentence.

“Ah-ah,” I say. “I’m not an intruder, Richie. I’m a concerned citizen paying you a visit.”

He paws uselessly at my hand clenched around his throat. His eyes bulge as I demonstrate the extent of my strength and lift him off the ground. His feet dangle several inches above the kitchen tiles as I hold him up like he’s a puny ragdoll.

Compared to a massive and powerful behemoth like me, he is.

He’s helpless in my hold, his otherwise limp and shapeless body giving a tremble of fear.

“Please,” he sputters. “Please!”

“No please,” I say calmly. My grip tightens on his throat, feeling his muscles work desperately for air. “I have questions, Richie. I’ve heard some things about you.”

“Richard… Richard, what’s going on—OH MY LORD!” his wife screams as she comes trotting into the kitchen in herrobe and slippers. The color leaves her face and she stumbles backward, almost tipping over.

I give a nod of my head.

Two of my men rush forward to subdue her. No force is necessary, as she doesn’t put up a fight. They grip her by the arms and hold her in place as she breaks into immediate sobs.

“Richard… what’s… Richard!” she cries.

My gaze swings from her to the red-faced ugly fuck who I’m strangling. He’s squirming in my grasp, kicking his legs out and swatting at my hand.

“Would you like to know what I’ve heard about you? Both of you?” I ask without waiting for their answer. I open my hand and let Richard drop to the ground in a heap. “I’ve heard you were foster parents. You once took in an orphan and promised to care for her. A girl by the name of Katerina Everly. Does that sound familiar?”

One of my men still behind me takes the cue and steps forward to brandish an old photograph of Katerina from many years ago. It’s the one that was found with the intake record of her foster home.

In the photo, a hesitant thirteen-year-old Katerina gives a small, shy smile to the camera, her t-shirt faded and her hair hidden under a knitted hat. She doesn’t have the appearance of a young girl well-taken care of, right down to the sadness in her eyes.

I stared at the photo the entire drive down here, yearning to take away my kitty cat’s pain. Though she hasn’t shared much, she’s suffered often in her life.

Richard gasps for air, catching his breath, and takes one bitter look at the photo.

“Oh. That little bitch?” he spits. “What about her?”

“Richard!” his wife Debra whines.

“Shut up, you cow! Can’t you see now is not the time?”

I snap my fingers in front of his face to force his attention. “What about her? The little bitch? Is that how you speak of her, Richie?”

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