Chapter 21 - Sergey
Even if Kat doesn’t want to admit it just yet, she had fun back at the casino.
It took some convincing to get her to truly unwind and let go of everything else for a while, but once she did, her eyes lit up with the possibilities.
While she isn’t much of a gambler, she certainly had a lucky streak anyway. And when that luck ebbed, we kept going until it returned all the same.
Whenever the tide turned in her favor, her face shifted to one of elation, and despite herself, she pulled me into the excitement with her.
I watched while she took charge of the place, walking from table to table like she owned it.
And in truth, that statement isn’t too far off.
It has taken some time for Kat to even remotely open up to the idea of embracing her place at my side, and to savor the good that comes with the bad.
But seeing those glimpses of her acting like a Bratva wife has felt like nothing short of a privilege.
And of course, it makes my blood run hot every time.
Once the buzz of the night started to wind down, we decided to call it a night and head home. At the very least, we were on the same page about that.
Now, the city blurs by us as Kat drives with her grip tight on the handlebars. She maintains pure focus while she darts down the strip, glancing in her mirrors from time to time.
It’s a strange feeling to be her passenger, holding on with a conservative grip as she takes the reins. But she was close to begging for the chance to drive it, and as much as I would’ve enjoyed that, I was making this her night, and I thought I’d spare her dignity. For now, anyway.
The city blurs by while she continues, and regardless of how relaxed she became throughout the night, I can feel how rigid she is again, almost like something’s wrong.
A cold prickle spreads down my spine while my instincts fire off about whatever is subconsciously bothering me, too.
For a moment, I consider the fact that I’ve given Kat control, and maybe in some capacity, that isn’t the smartest move.
She could steer us off course if she really wants to. She could even take us right to Yuri and have him pick me off. She might even take me straight to the cops and hope for the best.
They’re all viable ideas, along with many other potential outcomes, but I don’t regret it.
She had the chance to run to Yuri’s guy back at the casino, yet she stayed with me and even informed me of his presence.
It was a small thing, but she did what was in my best interest. And hers.
Maybe I shouldn’t read into that fact too much, but I can’t help it. Maybe she isn’t as repulsed by me as she makes herself out to be.
But even while I try to take in the relative peace between us, and the way her curves feel under my grasp, that dread in the pit of my stomach only gets worse, and then I spot them.
A black car slides into view in one of the side mirrors, seemingly doing everything it can to press closer, weaving in and out of traffic until it’s directly behind us. They’re too close. The kind of close that never results in anything good.
“We’ve got company,” I say through the communicators in our helmets, already reaching into my jacket for my pistol.
Kat doesn’t say anything at first, but her posture shifts as more tension moves through her. She picks up the speed while she glances through her mirrors. “It’s that asshole, isn’t it?”
“That’d be my guess,” I tell her, glancing over my shoulder at the assailants. “Don’t panic. Just drive.”
She nods, but I can tell she’s bracing herself for the worst already. As she weaves in and out of traffic, Kat veers off the main strip. “This isn’t how most fun nights out end.”
She’s right about that…for most people.
I risk another glance over my shoulder, gauging the situation before I open fire. The sound of the car engine picks up as they turn with us, speeding to catch up.
A glint of metal from inside the car catches my eye. Shit.
Gunfire erupts from behind us, tinging off the asphalt and the Panigale while Katya presses harder, going as fast as she can push the bike.
She turns left hard, trying to avoid the rain of bullets coming down in our direction, making the tires screech.
I fire off several rounds at the SUV’s grill, putting enough heat on them to swerve instinctively, but not enough to stop them entirely. It’ll take a lot more than that.
“They’re still on us,” Kat growls out, visibly furious while she continues to drive, tearing down a side street to stay away from the crowd of traffic.
“We have to lose them,” I tell her, keeping my eyes on the persistent car behind us, firing off rounds as I can while trying to maintain balance.
“I’m working on it.”
And work on it she does.
Kat whips down the side streets and alleyways, proving to be even better than I expected. She doesn’t panic, regardless of the heat on us and how all of this could go south in a matter of seconds.
Instead, she maintains an impressive control, and it only makes my blood run hotter.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s just her. Either way, I have half the mind to wish we weren’t preoccupied.
The car struggles to keep a straight path while the driver and passenger fire off their rounds, letting their bullets fly past the motorcycle. Regardless of the turns we take, they persist, undeterred by whatever bins or garbage bags they may hit in the meantime.
My breath catches as a near-blinding heat shoots through my bicep, causing me to lower the pistol while I wince and glance down. More warmth floods the area as blood weeps from the fresh wound.
It’s a graze, at least.
I grind out an irritated sound to push down the way it aches. “Son of a bitch…”
“Are you hit?” Kat asks, sounding more concerned than I expect.
“It’s just a scratch…keep going.”
She absolutely knows I’m lying, but she continues to race down another street while I don’t falter, raising my opposite arm to continue firing at Yuri’s men.
They’re damn determined, but so are we.
Eventually, Kat cuts into a narrow alleyway too small for the car to fit through, causing them to come to a screeching halt while their brake lights illuminate the space.
I continue to watch as the Panigale races out of view, easily gliding through the tight area before shaking them entirely.
Even I wouldn’t have taken this way.
The vehicle tries to follow, but as we get out of range, following an impossible path, the drive becomes quiet once again.
I wait several minutes before I exhale, registering the pounding of my heart while I tuck the pistol away. With the threat put on pause for the time being, I can feel the brunt of the graze mark, along with the way my body immediately responds.
With my hand firmly against her stomach, I lean into Kat more while I catch my breath and try my hardest to ignore the fire pulsing in my arm.
Once the coast is clear, Kat veers back onto the main road, gunning it back to the house before we find ourselves in another chase.
Luckily, she pulls into the driveway before long, slamming the Panigale into park before killing the engine and pulling her helmet off. She turns, glancing down at my bleeding arm as her eyes widen slightly.
“Inside. Now.”
As much as I want to put on a brave face and reassure her that it’s nothing, I don’t have it left in me.
Instead, I get off and follow her in, mindlessly discarding my helmet somewhere. My arm throbs while more blood trickles down to my wrist, and try as I might to keep my head on straight, a subtle wooziness courses through my system.
By some stroke of luck, I hang on long enough to reach the closest bathroom, where Kat pushes the door open and guides me over to the steps in front of the tub. “Sit.”
For once, I obey without question, wincing as I’m lowered onto the cool stone. I don’t have the energy to argue.
As carefully as she can, Katya pulls my jacket off without grazing the wound as well as she can before tossing it aside and taking a closer look.
With her brows knit together, there’s a gentle fury in the way she inspects it. Then, she huffs out a breath and grabs the first aid kit from beneath the sink.
Wordlessly, she pulls out the necessary materials before starting to clean the cut, a touch rougher than she needs to be. I don’t say anything at first, but I almost need the excuse to fill that silence.
“You could be gentler, you know,” I murmur, attempting to hold in my sounds of protest.
“And you could be smarter,” Kat snaps back, looking at me with a storm behind her eyes, then she shakes her head and continues dabbing alcohol at the cut. “We saw one of Yuri’s men, and instead of dealing with it, you dragged me around the casino to gamble.”
Touche.
Frowning, well aware that she has a point, I exhale deeply. “I didn’t think he’d make a move so soon…not on a whim like tonight.”
“You didn’t think. That’s the problem,” she returns, using a light enough hold on my arm to keep it in place. “And we ended up being chased through Vegas like fugitives. This is exactly why I wanted no part in my family’s business.”
As she utters those last words, she presses the gauze against the wound to make me bite back a pained groan.
After a moment of furious silence, Kat pulls in a breath and continues, voice giving away the truth behind her feelings.
“This is why I stayed in New York and built my own life. I knew the second I got pulled into Yuri’s bullshit, it would end up like this, one way or another.
With bullets being exchanged and blood spilled. That’s not the life I want.”
“I know,” I say quietly, looking at her while something twists in my chest. Seeing her fury and subtle fear breaks through my usual stubbornness. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“But it has, and you dragged me into it.”
She’s right…I know she is. But that doesn’t make it any easier to admit.