The whisky on his breath stomped into the house ten feet in front of him. He saw his daughter at the kitchen table and smiled. It made Dzinski’s stomach sour.
“You brought my sweet darling girl back,” her father said, licking his lips. Her mother disappeared from the kitchen.
“The bad news is I don’t have the money to pay you.”
“Come on,” Dzinski said to the girl. “We’re leaving.”
Her father dug his fingers into her shoulders and kept her seated.
“The little bitch isn’t going anywhere,” her father said.
“Until I get my money, she’s staying with me.”