Chapter 3 - Sergey
The scent of gasoline and hot asphalt clings to the air, thick and acrid like the city itself is sweating.
I followed Katya halfway across Brooklyn to get here, shadowing her Ducati from just far enough to stay out of her mirrors. Initially, I figured she would be meeting someone. Maybe a Balakin contact or one of Yuri’s guys.
But a car meet? That was the last thing I expected.
I sure as hell didn’t expect her.
She rolled into the lot like she had done exactly that more times than I could count, dirty-blonde braid spilling out from under her helmet. Her jacket clung to her like a second skin, showing off her almost dangerous-looking curves.
The purr of her bike was unmissable, matte black and very much giving off a sense of ‘don’t fuck with me’. Message received.
But as much as she looks like a pakhan’s daughter—and one who is involved in that world—something about the whole scene doesn’t add up to me.
I parked the rental and killed the engine down the line of vehicles, able to see her without being too obvious. The low thrum of bass carried throughout the parking lot, pulsing through the cracked pavement as mufflers roared and laughter cut through it all.
The noise moved on around me, but I was only focused on Katya while she pulled her helmet off and undid her braid, shaking her hair out. The lights caught on her cheekbones and brought my attention to the soft curves of her lips.
Christ.
I already knew beforehand that she would be beautiful. Of course. The daughter of a cold, aristocratic man was bred to be exactly that. But somehow, she was different.
There was nothing cold about the way she laughed at something one of the guys near her said, flashing a grin that lit up her entire face. There was no trace of the sheltered, porcelain doll I was expecting.
No…she seemed bold and sharp, yet outgoing. She looked comfortable in this kind of backdrop, with people who might come across as less than savory to most.
It led me to believe she was the alternative then—a Bratva princess with claws. The kind to not shy away from her father’s exploits, and now, her brother’s.
I’m not so sure anymore.
And suddenly, I’m not as pissed about being put on babysitting duty. Now, I’m curious.
I spent long enough watching her mingle with the others before deciding to get out. My boots crunch against some broken glass while I move around to the front of the car, adjusting my leather jacket while I go.
Nobody pays much attention to me, thankfully.
They seem to see just another guy with an interest in engines and fast rides. It’s not entirely untrue, but I wouldn’t go as far as to label myself as the type to care much about the specifics.
A few people gravitate to where I am, asking a few questions about the car, but given how little I know about it, I pass off my visit as me being interested in the others. The rental isn’t all that exciting anyway, which influences them to give me a few nods of understanding before buggering off.
To keep up the front, I weave slowly through the clusters of people drinking beer, leaning against cars, and comparing rides.
A few bikes move down the strips between the parked vehicles, showing off their engines and whatever modifications they’ve made.
They gleam under the lights, but nothing seems to compare to the sleek bite of Katya’s Ducati.
Or maybe I’m already biased.
Still, I keep a close eye on her, marking her movements through the lot. Eventually, she returns to her ride and talks to some kid with dark stains on his hands. He gestures to his car, and she laughs at something he says.
As much as I want to assume she’s ticking all the boxes of someone involved in her father’s empire, she doesn’t look like a woman who grew up in a world where men disappear for crossing the wrong lines. Where loyalty and blood are currency.
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe she’s trying to look like she isn’t her father’s daughter.
It’s certainly an interesting point.
For months, Roman has been nailing it into my head that Yuri Balakin is just as dangerous as his father. That he’s clever, and we need to be cautious regardless of our superiority. Dangerous enough that we’ve been dancing around him after Igor’s death instead of finishing what we started.
We need to be sure, he’s been claiming. Apparently, we need to be careful in case we underestimate his influence.
But if Yuri is being just as careful, then why is his sister out here in the open, schmoozing with street rats?
While I return to the hood of the rental and glance over at her, the gears start turning in my head.
This isn’t just babysitting anymore…it’s an opportunity.
If I play my cards right, I could turn Katya into the leverage we need. And maybe then I’ll finally get Roman to stop treating me like an errand boy.
As much as I don’t want to give my brother too much credit right now, he wasn’t wrong about my specialty. I’ve been doing this a long time, and blending in is something I’m good at.
Maybe it’s from all my nights spent meandering between different crowds, searching for something to spark my interest, and for substances and people to help take the edge off. Or maybe I was just born that way.
A guy revs his engine, drawing Katya’s attention. She looks over, giving her a nod of approval and seemingly appreciation.
More so than I do, she fits in here. That’s the part I can’t wrap my head around.
I at least expected to find her out of place, standing awkwardly in designer boots, checking her phone every few seconds, maybe waiting for Yuri to call her home like a good bratva sister.
But that doesn’t seem to be her reality, and that has me at a complete loss.
One way or another, she belongs here, and I can’t tell if that makes her more dangerous or just intriguing.
Despite trying my best to stay out of her direct attention, I glance at Katya only for her eyes to meet mine immediately after.
It’s quick. A flicker of connection across the space between us. Still, it’s enough to make me pause.
Her focus on me sharpens slightly, as if trying to place me, or to establish if I’m a new face.
Which, so long as I’ve been doing my job right, I should be to her.
Regardless of how that eye contact sends a strange thrill down my spine, I keep my expression as casual as I can, like I’m just another guy admiring the cars around us. I glance away, pretending to check out a Subaru with a ridiculous orange paint job.
But when I return my eyes to her, she’s still looking.
It isn’t entirely open. No…I assume she’s too smart for that. Still, I catch the shift in her posture, almost like she’s preparing for something.
As much as I want to keep staring at her, I force myself to break that eye contact before it gets out of hand. Before she starts asking herself too many questions about me.
A moment later, I glance at her from the corner of my eye, noticing how she has turned back to her friend and continues chatting.
An odd jolt moves through me, and it feels completely unexpected.
She noticed me, and not just in the way a woman notices a man looking at her, but with a sharpness that betrays her vigilance.
She isn’t oblivious, and while that could pose a challenge for me, it’s also a good thing.
That makes her more fun and more useful.
The crowd continues to shift while the music thumps, and I put in more of an effort to hang back while I push away from the rental and meander around, watching her without interruption.
Katya is animated when she talks, moving her hands in small gestures, laughing while she talks to the others.
She’s nothing like the other Brava women I’ve come to know…
icy socialites with empty eyes and smiles that never mean anything.
Those who are either content with being ornaments or who have never known anything different.
Instead, Katya is alive in an almost refreshing way. And more so than anything else, that makes her dangerous to me.
She doesn’t seem like the type to willingly be persuaded or manipulated, and if that’s the case, then she could very well be Yuri’s equal. Or, she could be a wildcard. I still don’t know those finer details yet.
Regardless, the beginnings of a plan start to form in my mind while I watch her say goodbye to a few of her friends before she slips her helmet back on and swings a leg over the Ducati.
If I can get close enough to her, not as a Bratva soldier but as someone she can trust, then I could use her to pull Yuri out of his current hiding place. And if I bring Yuri to Roman, then my siblings won’t be able to dismiss me so easily.
Then, I won’t be the brother who can’t be trusted with the big ordeals. I won’t just be the indulgent one or the one who can’t be bothered to show up when the others need me.
I’ll make them see, even if it takes time.
Katya revs the engine before pulling out, garnering her fair share of glances. I let her go, waiting a few minutes before slipping back into the rental and leaving after her.
Settling behind the wheel with the window down, taking in the cool night air against my skin, there’s a heat sitting low in my chest that I can’t shake. Something new and almost demanding.
I thought this assignment was going to be boring and a complete waste of time, but I was wrong. It’s not even close.
A streak of anticipation rips through me while I pull into traffic and tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
If I do this right, Katya Balakin won’t see me coming, and she’ll be the key to everything.