Page 95 of Sexting the Bikers
Novikov stands in the spill of headlights, looking from Reaper to Katya with a sneer twisting his mouth. He spits on the ground, wiping blood from his lip. “This isn’t over, Katya. You can hide behind these men for now, but you’re still mine. And you—” He points at Reaper, his voice cold. “You just made a very expensive mistake.”
The words hang in the air as Novikov turns away, gathering his men with a clipped order.
Katya steps forward, her voice ringing clear across the yard. “You’ve already lost, Novikov. Your dignity, your respect, everything is all gone. The Pakhan will never look at you the same way again.”
Novikov’s face twists, anger burning in his eyes, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He holds her gaze for a long, bitter moment, seething in silence, before finally turning away. He gathers his men with a sharp gesture, and they disappear into the shadows, no last-minute tricks or desperate moves.
The yard quiets. I lower my rifle, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. For tonight, at least, it’s over.
32
KATYA
The moment Novikov and the others disappear into the night, something inside me finally lets go. My breath comes out shaky, my hands start to tremble, and for a second I feel weightless—like all the years of fear, all the old wounds, are falling away in the dark. I close my eyes and just let myself breathe, drinking in the smoky night air, the sounds of boots and laughter beginning to rise all around me.
Dog finds me and pulls me into a hug before I can even think. He wraps his arms around me tight and doesn’t let go, his chest solid against mine, his breath warm at my temple. For a long time, I let him hold me, my face pressed to his shoulder, the rest of the world blurring at the edges. I realize I’m not just relieved, I’m exhausted. The ache in my bones is a kind of release, the knowledge that—for tonight—I’m safe. That these people didn’t let me fall. That I didn’t have to stand alone.
The sirens keep wailing out there somewhere, echoing through the trees and down the roads, a cold, hollow sound that’s more haunting than threatening now. Then, just as suddenly as they started, the noise cuts off, leaving the yardhushed and still. The only sound for a moment is my own breath and Dog’s arms around me, holding on like he’s never letting go.
Then, as if on cue, laughter bubbles up from the Ravagers. It starts with Twitch, then rolls through the whole group, wild and ragged, until the men are clapping each other on the back, grinning, whooping, and punching the air in celebration. For a few seconds, I’m lost, not sure what just happened.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice thin, but no one answers right away. They’re too busy congratulating each other, swapping stories, reliving the chaos with wild gestures and half-shouted jokes.
Bishop comes striding down from the roof, rifle slung over his shoulder, shaking his head. “But the ATF—they’re coming, aren’t they?”
Reaper grins, wiping a smear of dirt from his cheek. “Right,” he says, voice warm with satisfaction. “Someone tell Rooster to cut off those sound effects.”
Rooster steps out from behind a stack of crates, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve got speakers set up all around the property. It works pretty well when we want to spook trespassers. Never fails.”
My jaw drops open as the truth hits me. “Bluetooth speakers? That’s what all that was?”
Rooster just grins, not even trying to look guilty. Bishop chuckles, and even Twitch manages a crooked smile. Reaper shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “The ATF don’t care a rat’s ass about us, Katya,” he says, shaking his head. “But Novikov doesn’t know that. He thinks things are a little tight for him now.”
He glances at me, his eyes warm, a hint of humor in his voice. “I made a few calls, asked around. Turns out, there’s a reason Novikov’s been late with payments the last couple of months. He’s lost favor with his suppliers. Lost some territory back east.His own crew’s been getting restless. Money’s drying up, and word is, he’s been gambling hard trying to make it back.”
He pauses, making sure I’m following. “Novikov’s been desperate, Katya. That’s why he needed the guns, why he needed to make a show tonight. But we turned the tables on him. Now everyone in town, every club that matters, knows he’s finished here. Nobody will do business with him. His threats are empty. The Pakhan’s been squeezing him, demanding more money, and Novikov’s got nothing left to pay with. That’s the main reason Zaika showed up in town.”
It makes sense. If Mikhail had been pressurizing Novikov all this while, my call to him must have made him curious enough to visit and see what the ruckus was all about. I was responsible for his downfall, quite literally.
I shake my head, grinning in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually bluffed him—and it worked!”
Reaper flashes that crooked, infuriatingly confident smile. “Of course, darling. I was ninety-five percent certain it would.”
Bishop, coming up behind him, snorts. “That’s not exactly an assuring percentage, boss.”
Dog cracks his knuckles, which sounds suspiciously like popcorn popping. “You know, I’m a little sad we never got to hit his safe, like our original plan.” He looks at Bishop. “I had some real good crowbars picked out.”
Bishop just raises an eyebrow, deadpan as ever. “Have things ever gone the way we wanted, Dog?”
Dog huffs. “No, but a man can dream.”
Bishop shakes his head, dusting off his jacket. “Besides, if Novikov’s losing as much money as we think, that raid wouldn’t have filled a piggy bank.”
Dog winks at me with his good eye—his other one’s still swollen almost shut, which makes him look half pirate, halfpuppy. “And anyway, I already made my treasure run.” He tugs me closer, and then winces, clutching his ribs. “Ow. Worth it.”
I laugh, real and loud, surprising even myself.
Reaper guides me inside, his hand resting warm at the small of my back. I step over boots and empty bottles, the laughter and voices from outside still echoing in my ears. The clubhouse feels strange—too calm after everything that just happened.
