Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance (22 page)

All at once, a single shot rang out, echoing through the small room.

Everyone went still and Cadence’s eyes shot open. She searched the space wildly, her eyes widening as blood bloomed from the shoulder of Demyan’s sweater.

He’d been shot.

Behind him, however, Boris Yenotov’s eyes rolled back in his head. He’d been shot through the throat, and within scant seconds, his hold on Demyan loosened as he collapsed to the bed.

All hell broke loose.

Within half a second, another shot was fired and a splatter of red painted the opposite wall before Petya collapsed to the dingy carpet that covered the floor.

A
sniper
. But where from?

The third shot sent Lichakov’s knife zinging from her hand with a clatter and with an incensed cry, the blonde dropped Cadence painfully to the floor before turning to bolt from the room in a cloud of curses.

Cadence’s vision swam momentarily before she managed to crawl her way, hand over hand, to the bed. With no small amount of difficulty, she hoisted herself onto it to see Demyan lying there, his teeth clenched. He clutched his injured shoulder tightly, but his green eyes were wide and alert. “Demyan!” The young woman gasped through a haze of pain. “Are you ok?”

“Fine.” He grunted, attempting to sit up. “The bullet went straight through my shoulder.” He took hold of one of the bed posts, on the cusp of hauling himself up. “Who the hell is it?” His gaze darted around the room, now the picture of a war zone. “Where’s Roksana?”

Lichakov
.

At that moment, everything else ceased to matter.

Lichakov was on the run, and Cadence had simply let her slip away. Let her sister’s
killer
flee. In an instant, all the pain and exhaustion the past twelve hours had wrought on her melted away. The dark-skinned woman struggled to her feet, and not even the agony of putting weight on her damaged hip could deter her. She spun gracelessly, and despite Demyan’s shout, she was out of the room and down the hall in an instant.

She paused only to take up the knife that Lichakov had dropped.

Cadence would make sure it found its home – right in the sadistic blonde’s eye socket.

She was running on pure adrenaline.

Cadence took the back door out onto a fire escape just in time to see Lichakov’s blonde head whip around the corner of the next block. Cursing, she contemplated for only the briefest of moments before flinging herself over the railing and down onto a waiting pile of gathered trash bags. The stench when she made contact was unbelievable.

But she hardly cared.

The young woman was up in an instant, crying out harshly as she dragged her injured leg forward. Cadence broke into a loping run, heedless of the blood that ran down her thigh in rivulets. She was dressed only in her cotton bra and a pair of jeans, streaked with red, and as she ran past, people stopped to stare.

By the time she turned down the next block, Lichakov was almost at the end of it – but Cadence could see her blonde hair clear as day. It stood out, taunting her against the backdrop of Berlin, and, somehow, she ran faster.

She shoved through the crowd, knocking people aside that didn’t move quickly enough as she gained a yard – and then another. She had no idea where Lichakov was going, but she’d follow the bitch to the ends of the earth and back. Until her body gave out and her heart stopped.

Ultimately, however, that wasn’t necessary. After about half a mile, the Russian woman turned down a lonely alley, Cadence hot on her heels. As she passed several doors, she tried them all, but not a single one was unlocked.

Roksana was cornered.

Turning, she bared her teeth as her breath frosted on the cold air. She didn’t bother to speak English as she spat insults in Cadence’s direction.

“You idiotic
cunt
. What do you expect to do, in your condition? I’m going to snap your neck and send your head back to your government on a silver fucking platter.”

Cadence just stared at her, dark eyes blazing. “You
killed
her.”

The blonde snorted, her lip curling upward. “I’ve killed a lot of people. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“An American.” Cadence spat in reply. “Dark skin, like mine. Five years ago in Kiev. Danshov made it look like a car accident.”

After a long moment of just staring at her blankly, Roksana’s eyes widened. Then, slowly a smile spread across her face. She started to laugh – the sound loud and ugly as it rang through the alley. Bending at the waist, the blonde all but shrieked in mirth as Cadence watched, her blood boiling.

It seemed to take her an eternity but she finally caught her breath. “Oh
God
. God.” The blonde wiped tears of amusement from her eyes. “Did you know her?”

“
She was my sister
.” The younger woman’s voice came out in a whisper laced with pure hatred.

Lichakov’s grin widened. “She begged for her life like a coward by the time I was done with her…and bled like a stuck pig. Didn’t know you sand rats had that much blood in your veins.”

Cadence bolted forward like lightning, a scream of rage erupting from her throat. She collided with Roksana in a flurry of limbs and curses and the two hit the opposite wall
hard.
The dark-skinned woman’s knife bounced harmlessly off the brick and Roksana kicked her in the side hard enough to send her to her knees.

Swiping wildly, she sliced through the material of the blonde’s leather pants, opening a blooming cut on her thigh before she tackled her to the ground.

With a grunt, Roksana struck Cadence’s chin hard with the heel of her hand. The younger woman bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood and her ears rang. “Get
off
me, you American
whore!
” Lichakov struck her and Cadence fell onto her injured hip with a sound half gasp and half scream.

Then, Roksana was on top of her. The blonde’s fingers encircled her throat she squeezed powerfully, her grin maniacal. “Struggle all you want, worm. I can’t
wait
to see the light bleed from your eyes.”

And it would, soon, if she didn’t do something. Blood loss and fatigue already combined to sap her strength and Cadence scrabbled at Lichakov’s well-manicured hands uselessly.
No
. She would
not
die like this.

She
refused
.

Just as the world began to spin before her vision, Cadence drew on a hidden reserve of power and thrust her head forward sharply. The blow caught the blonde square in the nose and she shrieked as blood sprayed. Sitting up, the dark-skinned woman punched her again, blacking a hateful blue eye before bucking the blonde off entirely.

In a swift movement, Cadence grabbed for her discarded knife before straddling Lichakov’s waist as the woman choked on the blood streaming from her nose.

Unlike the crazy woman pinned beneath her, she didn’t savor her kill. She didn’t taunt and she didn’t tease.

Without a word, Cadence rammed Elisaveta Boykov’s butterfly knife into Lichakov’s right eye socket, twisting brutally.

The blonde woman screamed, writhing powerfully for almost a full minute before her thrashing started to ebb. Slowly, the light faded from her good eye and her motions grew weaker and weaker.

Then, finally, she lie still.

Cadence stared down at her, her chest heaving. She wanted to say something…
anything
. But nothing came to mind. Instead, salty tears mixed with blood to stain her cheeks as she gasped, the murderous haze around her finally lifting.

She was sitting atop Roksana Lichakov’s dead body – and
she
had killed her.

Dear God, she had killed someone.

“Freedman!”

Almost immediately, the sound of pounding footsteps approached her from behind. Shakily, Cadence grabbed at the nearby brick wall to hoist herself to her feet as she turned.

Everly Cresseda ran towards her, flanked by no less than a dozen German policemen with their weapons drawn. At the sight before her, the director pulled up short, her expression grim. She looked from Lichakov’s still warm body to Cadence’s trembling form before a long-suffering sigh escaped her.

“Jesus Christ, Freedman. You look like shit.”

Cadence only smiled weakly before her knees gave way beneath her and her world faded to black.

God, everything hurt.

Fucking
everything
.

Cadence felt as if her entire body was on fire. She moaned softly, deliriously, as several shapes moved in and out of focus before her line of vision.

What the
hell
happened? The last thing she remembered was an alley in Berlin…a ton of blood…and…Cresseda. Director Cresseda had kept them from getting their asses handed to them.

She’d probably saved Demyan’s life.

“
Demyan
…” The man’s name left her on a soft moan. Where was he? The Russian’s expression had been one of absolute horror when he realized she intended to go after Lichakov – but he’d been in no condition to stop her. Had they picked him up? Where
was
he? “
Demyan?”

“Jesus.” The voice that answered her was
not
Demyan’s. Instead, it was the husky tenor of her friend and one time admirer Geoffrey. With great effort, Cadence forced her eyes open to see Geoffrey’s anxious gray gaze fixed on her. It had been months since they’d last seen each other…and now he looked as if she were death itself. “You’re awake.”

“Not by choice.” She managed to croak, wincing at the sound of her own voice. For a moment, she struggled to focus on her surroundings. Everything was blindingly white, and the loud whirring hum of machinery filled the room. “Where am I?”

“St. Mary’s Hospital in London.” Geoff replied immediately. “And a good thing too. You almost bled out, Cay.”

The young woman groaned as another wave of pain rolled over her. “Demyan…where’s Boykov?”

Running a hand through dark hair, Geoff expelled a breath. It was his signature sign of exasperation. “Christ, you’ve been calling for the damn Russian for days and I can’t even get a little love? I came
all
this way to see you only to be blind-sighted by your new boyfriend?”

At his jibe, her expression softened as she attempted a smile. “Sorry, Geoff. Hi.”

“
Hi
indeed.” The slender man leaned over the hospital bed to embrace her as tightly as he dared. “You’re a fucking
idiot
.”

Cadence managed a soft laugh. “I killed Roksana Lichakov.”

Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “I
saw
. Are you out of your mind? The tendons in your hip are ruined, Cay.
Ruined.
She made an absolute mess of them. Not to mention you’re going to look like a scratching post for the next year at least…”

At the memory of the pain she’d gone through, Cadence winced. Lichakov had reveled in every brutal fucking cut. She was merciless and she was evil.

And now she was dead.

“Geoff…she killed my sister.” She could hardly say the words without choking on threatening tears. “She killed Alessia.”

The gray-eyed man’s expression grew sober as his shoulders tightened. “
Fuck
. Jesus…I’m…I’m sorry, Cay.”

“…and she burned the intel.” Dashing away her tears furiously, Cadence bit back a whimper of pain at the discomfort the motion caused her. “It’s gone. She took a fucking
lighter
to it.”

To her surprise, however, her profession only drew a small, amused smile from Geoff.

Cadence stared at him. What could he
possibly
think was funny at this juncture? She was bedridden with a ruined leg, the intel she and Demyan had risked their lives to smuggle out of Russia was gone…this was hardly a joyful occasion!

“Is this what she burned?” Out of nowhere, Geoff held up an unmarked yellow binder. Reaching up, Cadence took it from him, gazing dubiously in the man’s direction a moment before opening it. A low gasp escaped her when her eyes fell upon line after line of neat Russian writing. The young woman’s mind was far from photographic, but if she remembered correctly from the few times Demyan let her skim the book, the numbers written on the page before her and those Lichakov had burned were the same.

Incredulous, she flipped through page after page – perhaps fifty in all. What appeared to be a perfect duplicate of the information they lost. “This…” She stammered weakly, the document falling into her lap, “
How…?”

Geoff’s grin was no less than shit-eating. “The crazy Russian bastard memorized it,
Cay
. Fucking
memorized.
Fifty goddam pages. It’s all here.” As Cadence tried hazily to understand what he told her, he continued. “What’s more, he knows where we can
find
the man that furnished half the goddamn nukes. He can confirm the nuclear codes.”

Cadence thought she might pass out again.

Demyan had
memorized
the black book? Every single piece of information? Why, then, had he acted as if it was so precious? Right up until the end where…

Her breath caught.

When Lichakov had tortured her…it hadn’t taken much for Demyan to give her the documents. When she screamed in pain, he all but begged the crazed blonde to take them.

Because they hadn’t mattered to him. He’d been more concerned for her safety than over the idea of what Roksana might do with the information. She thought the book was the only copy Demyan had because he coveted it so damn much…and so she burned it, never knowing how useless the action was.

Her eyes sliding closed, Cadence fell back onto the pillow, her head throbbing.

Why? Why had he risked all of that…for
her
?

“Awake, are you, Freedman?”

At the imposing voice of Director Cresseda, an exhausted Cadence forced her eyes to open once more as she dragged herself upright. As usual, the woman had not a hair out of place, her scowl set in stone. She entered Cadence’s hospital room flanked by what appeared to be members of British Intelligence, and all it took was a pointed look at Geoff to send the man scurrying.

Without ceremony, Cresseda pulled up a chair to sit next to Cadence’s bed, her gaze unyielding. “What a monu-
mental
fuck up, Freedman. You were supposed to gather
intelligence
. Do you realize what the hell you’ve done?”