Mr. CEO(112)

Samuel turns to kick Theresa, and I start to move, but before I can even take a step, Katrina's right there, spinning him around and sweeping his legs out from underneath him. “Don't touch her!” she screams, stomping down on Samuel's left ankle. I don't hear anything break, but that doesn't mean it doesn't probably hurt like hell. “You have no right!”

Unfortunately for Katrina, while she's an expert in the martial arts, she probably hasn't watched as many cop shows as I have, and she forgets one of the main cop rules in a domestic disturbance, which is never ignore anyone. Her own mother, who should have been grateful for her daughter's assistance, instead throws a shoe at her. It catches Katrina in the chest and surprises her just enough that Samuel is able to grab her ankle, sending her tumbling to the floor next to him with one hard yank. Theresa's still trying to get involved, but I grab her, dragging her away toward the bedroom.

“Sit down!” I say, shoving her into the bedroom and closing the door. It's not great, but it's better than nothing, and before she can push the door open, I grab a bookcase and jam it under the handle. It's not much, but it’ll give me a minute.

I run back to the living room, and watch as Katrina flips Samuel over neatly, landing on top of her father, anger and rage etched on her face. “You son of a bitch! You f*cking bastard! You left me, you cheated on your wife, and you try to pretend that you're the victim! I hate you!”

Katrina starts pounding him in the face, vicious elbows and forearm blasts that batter away at his arms. He's beyond trying to defend himself, he's out of shape and exhausted already, but Katrina isn't letting up. Samuel's just got his arms up over his head to try and absorb the punishment, but I can tell from looking at Katrina's face, she isn't letting up.

His arms slip, and one of Katrina's elbows slices through, shattering Samuel's cheekbone, and his head drops back, stunned. His arms fall to the side, and she grabs him by the throat, a look of murder on her face. “Katrina! Katrina, stop!”

“No way, Jackson,” she hisses, her eyes locked on Samuel's face. Her fingers start to tighten, and he hacks, trying to grab at her wrist, but her grip is too strong. “He's got to pay.”

“By turning you into a murderer like him?” I ask, coming next to her. I can't grab her, she's so high-strung right now that I'd probably just make her angrier, but I lay a hand on her right arm, just above her elbow. “Katrina, do you want to become as bad as he is? To become like him?”

“He took ten years of my life away,” Katrina hisses, twisting Samuel's hand with her left when he finally gets a grip on her wrist. I hear something snap like dry twigs, and Samuel's gasps and coughs weaken as he gives a pained whine. “I think I deserve that much, with interest.”

“Then do it the right way,” I whisper, closing my hand on her arm. Her arm is thin, wiry with muscle, and I can close my fingers all the way around it, but I don't tug. I have to try, to let her do the right thing. “Let him go, Katrina. Do it the right way.”

Katrina's face is still etched in fury and anger, but her fingers relax, and Samuel coughs, a little bit of blood dotting his lips as he does. He starts to raise his head and Katrina throws a palm strike, catching him between the eyes and bouncing his head off the floor, knocking him out. “Fine.”

Katrina gets up, her knees shaky as she looks down on her father's laid out frame, and I hold her carefully, supporting her as she starts to walk away. The door to the bedroom finally gets opened and Theresa comes out, running to her husband and looking back at us in an expression that's so pathetic and miserable I actually feel slightly sorry for her. “How can you do this to your own father?”

“My father died ten years ago... along with my mother,” Katrina whispers. “I swear to you, though, you two will pay for what you did. If I were you... I'd start running before he even wakes up.”

“Come on, Katrina,” I say softly, holding her arms. “We don't need to be here any longer.”

We leave, and I have to half-carry her to the stairs, where she starts to recover, brushing my hands off. We run down the stairwell and out the gate, not stopping until we're around the corner. Slowing, we begin walking, Katrina looking straight ahead. “You okay?”

“No.” Her voice is steel-hard, her eyes emotionless. I look down, and see that her hands are balled up, her forearms still tense and corded with effort at restraining herself.

Okay, fine. I understand that, and that's what I'm here for right now, helping her when she's not totally in her right mind. “Let's get back to the hotel, figure out what to do next.”

“The Metro station's just up the street.”

We walk in silence for a little bit, and I feel more confident as we put some distance between us and the apartment that we're not going to have Miami-Dade cops come rolling up to arrest us. Part of me is turned on, Katrina was so sexy and beautiful as she unleashed only the smallest bit of retribution on her father. However, it was scary too, watching her so close to going over the edge.

“Jackson,” Katrina says as we reach the station, and I still can see in her eyes a lot of steely hardness, but also a hint of my Katrina coming back.

“Yeah, Katrina?” I ask, taking out my wallet to pay the ticket machine.