Katya Korkova was born to be a “princess.”
Being the only daughter to a Russian drug king had given her a skewed perception of life. Since childhood, Katya had been spoiled to the point that demands were used instead of “please” and “thank you.”
All of that changed when her oldest brother was murdered. Her father had officially gotten to the highest rank in the criminal underworld, which meant that everyone in his family was in danger.
Before her brother’s death, she had no idea that her family’s way of life was dangerous. Before his death, all she knew was parties, shopping, being catered to and suffocated under an endless sea of watchful eyes. Things changed quickly after his death however, and went to a much darker place.
Now her life was bodyguards, stress, and fear. She didn’t want to be the princess her mother had raised her to be, and the minute she saw a chance to escape, she went running full sprint. She wanted to hurt those who had hurt her family. She wanted to help in her family business, no matter what that meant. She wanted to be strong and badass, and that is exactly what she devoted her time to train as.
Her family had to keep holding their heads high and never show fear. They couldn’t hide in the house like cowards, even though they were filled with so much pain. And so, while they hurt inside, to their enemies, life continued on as if it hadn’t skipped a beat. They didn’t miss a single social event or business meeting. They didn’t slip up in the slightest though these were their darkest days.
Behind closed doors, her mother and father had fallen apart completely. Katya could hear her mother crying herself to sleep for years while her father seemed to sink further and further into himself.
Her four brothers couldn’t be seen without a drink in their hands now – vodka in their coffee, vodka in their tea, vodka in their water bottles – however they could hide it, they did.
Katya was the only one who turned their grief into a weapon, harnessing it and using it to change as a person. She kept her family going, forcing her parents to allow a grief counselor to come to the house, watering down her brothers’ vodka bottles, keeping track of everyone’s appointments like a personal secretary so she could ensure they made it to their destinations on time and were well put together for it.
She became their own personal general behind the scenes until their grief healed enough for them to move forward on their own. It took years, years of her pulling her brothers’ heads out of toilets, cleaning up vomit, holding her weeping mother until she fell asleep in Katya’s arms, holding tight to her father’s hand and not allowing him to slip further away from them. These years of forced strength turned her to stone. She could no longer remember the spoiled child she had once been; that was too many lifetimes ago.
Rival factions continued to try to use her as a weak spot in the family, some trying to kidnap her and others going straight for murder, knowing how much it would destroy her father. Bodyguards and her brothers had saved her life more than once.
After five years of this, it had gotten to the point that she needed a full time day and night bodyguard because she had been attacked more than any single person in her father’s entire crime organization. At this point, if she made it one week without an incident, it was a miracle.
More than anything, she wanted to work her way through the ranks and become as respected and valuable to “the family” as her brothers were. But with her receiving five times the number of attempts on her life than had previously been the case, and no one respecting women, it seemed a fruitless goal.
Still, she kept her head as high as her father had taught her and carried on. With her bodyguards in tow, she collected her family’s money from those they offered protection to, had business meetings, and made connections for them.
Tonight, as she painted a fiery layer of red on her lips, she thought about the arms dealer she was going to meet with. He was a handsome Persian man and had made more than one flirtatious move on her. She wondered if giving him the ride of his life would get her family a hefty discount.
Her father probably wouldn’t approve of that type of business from his princess, but just in case the Persian became too tempting to turn down, she swapped her business suit for a short black skirt and a white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone.
Using sex for a business move wasn’t her go-to. But it had been a while since she had been with a man, and if she didn’t change that soon, she might need to use a dust buster down there.
Three soft knocks on her door let her know that her two bodyguards had secured everything, and they were ready to go when she was.
After two quick spritzes of her perfume, she was gliding out the door in her spiked stilettos. At only five feet tall, she never left the house without at least 4 inch heels. The men in her world already saw her as fragile and unintimidating. She didn’t need to add to that.
Things had gotten so dangerous concerning the rival factions that there wasn’t a single moment where she was alone. Even when she showered, someone stood directly outside of the bathroom door and inspected the room before she was allowed to go in and use it.
Katya did her best to ignore them, which was her father’s advice when she had complained that she felt suffocated by the protection. It was hard to convey to old, battle worn drug kings that you were also someone to be feared, especially when you couldn’t leave your own home without a small army following you around.
They took a blacked out SUV owned by her family and, within minutes, were whizzing down the freeway. Katya wished she could make this trip on the back of one of her brother’s big, lumbering motorcycles, but the bodyguards would never allow that after they were almost run off the road last summer.
Going for a midnight drive down the freeway was one of the things she and her brothers loved to do together – nothing but darkness and stars around them, the roar of the engine too loud to let in their depression and thoughts of their brother’s death.
Apparently, they did it too frequently, though, and people watching them noticed. Bodyguards never accompanied them because Katya had never dreamed she would need them with her brothers around… brothers she grew up thinking were invincible.
In the end, they had all made it back with their lives, thanks to her brothers riding their bikes like they were on the set of the fast and the furious, but it had put a massive damper on something that was once so enjoyable to them. Now, her brothers wouldn’t take her for fear of that same danger, and her bodyguards would have lost their minds if she even suggested it.
Katya sighed deeply and rolled down the window, letting the cool breeze sweep her dark hair around her. It was almost the same.
“Are you all right?” the bodyguard seated behind her asked in a thick Russian accent.
“Just rehearsing strategy,” she replied without turning her face from the window. She had stopped wanting to talk about her feelings a long time ago.
People said talking about them helped, that you needed to “get things out,” but that had never helped her. In fact, talking about her feelings only seemed to make things worse for Katya.
If she told anyone how depressed she was, they’d tighten the circle around her. Her brothers would glue themselves to her side every moment of the day while her mother already hovered nervously over her. Only her father seemed to understand what it was to want to be alone in your sadness. Because of this, he was also the only one who seemed to take her side or even understand her need to be involved in the family’s affairs.
If it was up to her mother and brothers, Katya would do nothing more than simply be a rich debutant who went to hair appointments and on social calls with friends. She
was different, always had been, and the idea of that old life was suffocating to her.
She didn’t blame them. It all came from a place of love, but being smothered didn’t make her feel comforted. In fact, it gave her more anxiety, and she ended up putting on a happy face just to make everyone around her feel as though they had “fixed” her momentary melancholy.
All in all, she would rather just pretend she didn’t have feelings anymore. Her father managed to do it perfectly, so she studied him, copying his poker face exactly.
Deep down, he hurt as badly as the rest of the family. He feared for them, loved them, but he worked hard to keep his face and actions solid like stone.
Katya wasn’t quite at his level yet, but she strived to make it there one day.
“We’re here,” her second guard announced as they pulled up in front of a small coffee shop at the end of an industrial park. The shop was owned by all the local crime families, just as every building in this industrial park was owned by one family or another, the shop most notoriously used by everyone, and considered to be a neutral meeting place.
Katya and her guards had arrived twenty minutes before the agreed upon meeting time, and while the first guard went inside to check and sweep the place for anything dangerous, the second stayed in the car with her.
They didn’t speak to each other. It wasn’t really her family’s way. Outside of her brothers and parents, she tried to keep her mouth shut as much as possible. Sometimes, her voice would crack from disuse, but it didn’t bother her. Silent was a good way to be.
A small slip of gossip or information would land her in her own grave, and she trusted no one, not even those paid and sworn to protect her.
Her very first bodyguard had made that a sad reality. Not even a month after accepting his duty, he had arranged to give her over to a drug cartel that wanted part of her father’s territory. Thankfully, her family took extreme precautions with everything and had been having him followed and bugged until he earned a higher level of trust. Her family was able to keep her from being sold, her bodyguard was mysteriously never heard from again, and she had learned a very valuable life lesson: keep your mouth shut.
Her new guards had been with her for over a year now, but she still had no desire to trust them. The fewer people you trusted, the fewer people you needed to worry about betraying you.
Inside the shop were ten small, round tables and two longer rectangular ones for larger meetings. An older woman with a long scar across her collar bone gave Katya a slow nod from behind the counter. She would serve them though Katya had never seen her before. Yet, she knew the woman was from one of the families and not at all someone sweet and innocent who just took a part time job serving cappuccinos.
“What can I get for you?” the woman asked, and Katya was happy to hear an eastern European cut to her accent. She guessed Ukrainian. If a fight erupted, the woman, at best, would aid her but, at worst, would simply stay out of the fight.
“Do you have anything stronger than coffee under that bar?” Katya asked with a muted smile.
The woman’s eyes brightened as she pulled out a heavy bottle of vodka and poured Katya and herself a drink.
Her guards continued to patrol the inside of the building and monitor the windows, waiting for the arms dealer to arrive, but she paid them little attention.
After a few moments of noticing the woman eyeing her, Katya struck up a conversation, knowing that is what normal people do.
“It must be boring here by yourself all night,” she said casually after taking her shot.
“We use it as a punishment for something small and stupid,” the bartender replied. “Fuck up, and do a shift here. I know your family makes it a once a month chore for people. We like having a neutral space, so we all do our parts right?”
Katya thought about asking the woman what she had done to earn the punishment but thought better of it. People didn’t take too kindly to being asked so many questions, and to be honest, she really didn’t care.
“One more?” she asked instead, and once again, the woman behind the counter filled a clear glass full of clear liquid for her.
In comfortable silence, they stood, and Katya eyed the shop slowly. It was obvious men had decorated this place. Like most of her world, there was no color, only shades of grey. The tables, while scrubbed clean, were simply wooden and empty. The walls, while freshly painted, were bare.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to call the place dreary, but it was right on the verge. It didn’t bother her; dreary was comforting to her.
Headlights flashing through the blinds told her that the arms dealer had arrived. With one large gulp, she downed the liquid and took a table facing the door and away from the counter.
Five men entered, which already annoyed Katya since they had previously discussed bringing only three. She didn’t let the agitation show on her face though. She knew it could be perceived as weakness or worry, so she continued to look nonchalant and welcoming.
“Beautiful as always.” The large Persian man smiled broadly at her, but his men behind him stayed stone faced. Their eyes traced the structure of the coffee shop in a way that neither she nor her bodyguards enjoyed.
“A flatterer as always,” Katya replied but gave him what she hoped was a cheery smile so he didn’t feel rebuffed.
“I know you’re not one for flirtation, only business. Such an odd way to do things in my opinion, but I accept your ways.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes this time, but Katya refused to let worry set on her face.
Reaching into her black leather purse, she pulled out a contract. Other families thought this was a stupid practice, but her father was very old school and loved his paper copy of everything.
“This is everything we’re looking for and the prices we’ve discussed. It also includes our expected delivery date and approved meeting locations for the exchange of money for goods.” She slid the document over to his side of the table where he frowned.
Picking it up, his frown deepened.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, folding her hands in front of herself.
Her brother had specifically given her this man to deal with because he was a pain in the ass and insisted on haggling over every last coin. No one in her family had the patience for it, but it was a simple job with little risk, and Katya was very low on the totem pole. If she wanted to work in her family’s business, these were the kinds of jobs she needed to start with.
“The Turks have offered me a five percent higher pay out for these.” He pointed out three orders of weapons. “Raise your price to meet theirs.”
“No.” Katya stood firm, and his men shifted uncomfortably on their feet. “The Turks cover only ten percent of this city, which means even while paying a higher fee, you’ll still make more money off of our offer because we have ordered three – maybe even four times the amount that I am sure they have asked to buy.”
“Too smart.” His face suddenly broke into a wide smile, and for some reason that set her even more on edge. “You are too smart! You are correct. I would still make much more money from your family. Do you know the best deal that I was offered, though?”
The last thing on earth Katya gave a shit about was whatever other price he was offered from whatever other faction, but she raised her eyebrows and feigned interest all the same.
“I was offered a price three times what your family has put on this contract.” He slid the paper back across the table towards her. “But it wasn’t for weapons. It was for you, smart girl.”
Instantly, the mood in the coffee shop changed. In a flash, everyone drew their guns, including Katya. The woman behind the counter grabbed her vodka bottle and glass and quickly headed out of sight. Bless her.
“Smart girl, you know you cannot shoot your way out of this. We are more than you,” the Persian purred, opening his arms, as if to shrug.
“I’m still going to try, though.” Katya cocked her head to the side. “I can only guess the p
rice that’s set on my head, but I know for a fact the price you’ll get if you kill me here.”
It was a sad card to play, but it was the only one she had. Her bodyguards wouldn’t stand a chance in this shootout, but the Persians would have to keep her alive to negotiate a price with her family for her life.
She flipped the table in front of her, and a fire fight erupted.
“We need the girl alive!” someone yelled, and she took advantage of her immunity to try to take down as many of them as she could.
Both bodyguards were already bleeding, but they were still upright and still doing their best for her. It made her feel a little bad for how cold she had been to them.
The Persian tried to get close to her, and she shot his foot. His scream was satisfying to her ears. She wished she could have gotten a fatal shot, but she would take what she could get.
Katya had given up being scared a long time ago. If someone was going to come for her, she was going to put up a fight. And if she died, she died.
He screamed and crumpled, not nearly as tough as he had made himself seem. Now she was definitely glad she had never slept with him, she detested weak men.
Around her, though, things were looking grim. Both guards were down and possibly dead. They were going to take her. There was no other option. She sent a 911 text to her father concerning the situation, but she knew no one could get to her in time.
She wasn’t worried about living through this. She knew her father would pay any ransom for her. She was worried about what they would do to her while they waited for her payout. She would rather die than be raped, and when she was finally back home, life would be over for her. Her mother would hover and fuss more than ever, and her brothers would never let her leave the house again.
She had tried to play the game and, apparently, was horrible at it.
The coffee shop door suddenly exploded with the force of what had to have been a battering ram.
Filling the entire doorway stood a man so large it didn’t look like he could fit through. His shoulders were as wide as the door frame, and he wore a neon pink shirt that said “STRONG MOTHER FUCKER” in bold, black letters.
Immortal Protector: Vampire Mates Page 1