Chapter 19 - Sergey
Katya completely blindsided me.
I should’ve known she might at least have some experience under her belt, given who her father is, but I certainly didn’t expect her to be so skilled. I didn’t think she had that much practice under her belt.
By the time Kat fires her last rounds, I stand up from leaning against the wall behind the lane and cock a brow at her. “Where the hell did this come from?”
She pulls off her ear protection and hands the pistol back to me with a touch of satisfaction in her features. She shrugs. “What, you didn’t think I’d be good at this?”
“Not exactly,” I murmur, watching her closely as more of that interest moves through me. “I didn’t expect you to be better than most of the guys that work for us.”
That earns me a proper, sly smile from her. “It sounds like Roman needs to hire some better shots then.”
There was something so attractive about the way she handled herself and the guns, and I keep seeing her shooting in my mind’s eye like she was born an expert.
Her fingers were quick while her aim was precise, and I can’t get it out of my head.
It shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.
I never doubted the edge she usually had, or how capable she was, but having the chance to see her in this environment, being so controlled and calculated, makes my pulse spike. Even now, I can still feel it.
It has taken a while to peel back her layers and to break through the ice between us, but now, I can see how much I underestimated her without realizing it.
“Maybe you’re onto something,” I tell her, taking the equipment and walking it back to the locked cases. “You’ve officially surprised me.”
“Should I be flattered or offended?” She asks, following some distance behind me.
“Both, probably.”
I catch the small laugh under her breath, and it settles something in my chest that has been running rampant lately, given everything going on.
I’ve been trying so hard to melt her defenses, and it seems I’ve managed to find a common ground for us. At the very least, I’ve given her a small piece of control she has clung to.
“Since you’ve been holding out on me, tell me the details,” I begin, falling into step with her while I guide her out of the range and into the rest of the warehouse. “What’s the story? Where’d you learn to shoot?”
Kat hesitates for a moment, as if wondering just how much she should share. Something heavy moves within her eyes, and even if she doesn’t outright refuse to answer, I can tell it stirs something darker in her.
For a moment, I half expected her to brush me off or snap something back at me. Instead, she takes a breath and follows along beside me.
“My father had me trained,” she murmurs, sliding her hands into her back pockets while she takes measured steps. “Not because I wanted to be, but because he believes anyone with our name should be able to defend themselves. Especially me.”
It makes sense, given her place in the family.
“Because of who you are.”
“Because of who he was,” she corrects lightly, getting lost in thought for a moment.
“He wanted a daughter for all the reasons a pakhan does…but he didn’t want me to be soft like one.
He wanted me to be more like Yuri, even if he never said it outright.
So I learned how to shoot, how to fight, and how to fall in line when I needed to. I hated it, but I became good at it.”
Nodding slowly, I process her every word.
Regardless of her family name, Kat doesn’t bring up her father often.
She has never really spoken about him with affection or disdain, but now, there’s something else in her voice.
Certainly resentment, but also something more complicated, like it shaped her in ways she doesn’t even want to acknowledge.
“I get it,” I say, offering her something in return.
Kat tilts her head to look up at me. “Do you?”
I nod. “My father didn’t become a pakhan until later in life, but he always had that strong personality and drive since before I could remember.
As hard as Roman tried to keep the rest of us out of it as kids, we still saw bits and pieces before we knew what it all meant.
Moving to America after Mom died, seeing all kinds of men coming and going from the house late at night, and suddenly leaving poverty behind…
it was a big shift, but we all got used to it, and these things became our normal. ”
“Did your dad train you?” She asks, sounding genuinely curious to learn more about me.
I shake my head. “No, that was all Roman. He was young when he took the reins, and he wants something similar for us. He said that if we were to join him in the family business, then we needed to become soldiers and to understand how to switch between being siblings and being associates. When I was just a teenager, Roman broke my arm in a sparring match and told me I had to know pain and learn how to overcome it. Mikhail taught me how to shoot before I could drive.”
“Jesus,” Kat murmurs, sounding vaguely surprised yet not entirely disconnected from that way of living.
Letting go of a breath, I lead us back towards the main door, seeing how dark the city is around us now. “We didn’t grow up normally, but in a way, it had to happen. If not, we wouldn’t be where we are now, and we likely wouldn’t even still be alive at this point.”
She looks at me with something quiet and contemplative in her gaze.
For the first time, I think she sees me.
Not just as the man who took her and coerced her into marriage, and not the man with impulse issues, but someone who grew up not so differently from her.
Someone who intimately knows what it’s like to bear the weight of those expectations.
“You’re not the only one who didn’t ask for this life,” I add, feeling that familiar flicker of frustration in my chest at the thought. “Regardless of the benefits.”
Even if she can’t deny the fact, she doesn’t seem entirely convinced either. “It doesn’t make it easier.”
“No, it doesn’t. But it helps to know someone else gets it.”
Kat allows that silence to hang on for a few beats while she silently thinks it over, but it isn’t uncomfortable.
Instead, we stand in the open doorway, feeling as a light breeze drifts in around us. Then, she meets my gaze and looks a little more centered than she had previously. If anything, she seems more receptive than she had been.
“Thanks for taking me out,” she says, almost like it takes some effort to get the words out.
I smile slightly at that and nod. “I figured you were going stir-crazy in the house. Besides, we both needed it.”
“I was. I still am,” she admits. “In fact, I was going to tear into you when you got home, but this has been a better outcome.”
A small chuckle escapes me before I can stop it. “Then on that note, let’s keep going.”
She seems vaguely surprised by the suggestion, then she gives me a pointed look. “Is this your attempt at date night?”
“Date night, bonding, blowing off steam…whatever you want to call it,” I return with a grin while I close up the warehouse behind us and head over to the Panigale, handing her the spare helmet. “Just as long as you get back on the bike.”
A flicker of amusement crosses her features, and Kat doesn’t argue. Instead, she manages a small smile of her own while she accepts the helmet and puts it back on.
Before long, she’s sitting behind me while darkness has fully cloaked Vegas, allowing for the bright lights and signs to light the way. The evening air is warm, but Kat’s arms around my waist are warmer.
Her grip isn’t hesitant anymore. Instead, it’s firm, secure, and it has me feeling better despite everything else going to shit.
The city blurs by us while the neon flashes and the streets hum with constant energy from tourists and locals alike.
While I weave in and out of traffic, Kat presses closer, and I’m keenly aware of every point of contact between us.
Her fingers lightly curl into the shirt beneath my jacket, and it’s maddening in the best way.
The longer we tour around for, the bolder she becomes, even if she wouldn’t dare admit it.
One of her hands moves against my opposite side like she’s testing the waters before sliding it over my abdomen. The touch sends a jolt of interest through me, followed by another wave of warmth, before she reaches a bit higher and approaches my chest.
It takes all the self-restraint I possess to focus on the traffic in front of us, regardless of how it makes my pulse throb and my whole body erupt in goosebumps.
I want nothing more than to pull over and hold her close like I’ve been craving lately, or to take things a step further and quell that familiar need I can never get rid of when it comes to her. But of course, I have to keep my eyes on the road.
Kat makes no move to correct her exploratory touch on me, and no part of me wants her to stop.
I savor the contact while I can until we pull up to the casino. The valet doesn’t even raise a brow. Instead, he waits for us to get off and offers a subtle greeting before taking over.
Everyone here knows who I am, and tonight, I want them to see Kat.
She smoothes her hair back while scanning the building ahead of us. “A casino? That’s your pick?”
“Why not?” I return with a grin while I guide her inside, daring to rest a hand against the small of her back, silently thanking Kat for not pulling away. “You’ve spent long enough despising me. Let me buy you a drink and try not to make things worse.”
“Is that last part a promise?”
I hum. “That depends on how the night goes.”