Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance (16 page)

Christ
. She was stupid. So
fucking
stupid. Demyan was going to kill her – and all because she believed that he was something that he wasn’t.

Cresseda, she was sure, wouldn’t be surprised...But to her surprise, Cadence found that she only had one regret:

As blackness closed in on her, she choked a single word.

“
Alessia…”

**

By everything that was holy, he’d been a fool.

Long fingers tented gracefully under his chin, Demyan stared down at the unconscious woman in the bed before him, pulse thundering in his ears.

Everything had changed. In the space of one ten minute period, the events of the past few months were turned on their head.

Reaching up, he touched his still throbbing nose. He was lucky it wasn’t broken.

It turned out that Cadence Freedman was a force to be reckoned with – a regular hellion; and her skills went far beyond your run-of-the mill defense abilities. She’d been trained – trained well. He had to have at least seventy pounds and almost a foot on her and she’d still dealt some pretty devastating damage. By Demyan’s estimation, a couple of his ribs, as well as his pride, were bruised.

She’d
hurt
him – and it had shocked the hell out of him.

But that, of course, wasn’t the only shock he received the previous night. He’d woken from a dead sleep to find Cadence bent over reading from his private ledger – the one he kept on his person at all times. Not even Veta knew he had it – thank God – and he planned to keep it that way. But, Cadence had found it. And not only that, she’d read it.

Read
Russian.

Even though he’d been half asleep, it hadn’t taken Demyan’s mind long to make the connections. If Cadence could understand Russian, that meant she’d lied about her language capabilities. Why would she lie about those unless she had a bevy of deeper secrets dependent on her feigned ignorance?

One by one, the pieces had fallen into place: her closeness to Osip, the way she ingratiated herself in the Kremlin – even the way she charmed herself into his bed. Demyan wondered if she hadn’t purposefully almost given herself hypothermia in an effort to seduce him.

He wouldn’t be surprised.

The Russian had to admit that if the Americans were sending someone to get rid of Osip, they’d chosen wisely. No one would suspect how dangerous Cadence really was. The air of innocence she projected was almost flawless.

Until she was pissed off, that was.

It was strange – even as she’d been handing him his ass, he found himself oddly aroused by how lethal she was. If she’d wanted to kill him, she could have. Instead, she dealt in blows to stun and weaken – which had been a mistake on her part.

She didn’t want to hurt him…which meant that, in some measure, she cared for him.

Demyan frowned.

Why the hell would she do that? In a situation as precarious as hers, getting over-involved was certain suicide. He couldn’t help but wonder how someone the US sent as a cold-blooded killer could be so complicated. She had used him…hadn’t she?

And then there was her profession itself: That she
wasn’t
an assassin.

He knew he would be a fool to believe such a thing. He was almost certain she had the skills. Maybe she’d meant to charm her way into Osip’s bed and strangle
him. It might have worked.

…So why hadn’t she tried?

Exhaling hotly, Demyan ran a hand through his damp hair as he reviewed the previous night’s events.

The moment Cadence had fallen unconscious, he released his hold on her throat. She hadn’t killed him so he supposed he could grant her the same courtesy. Ridiculously, he found himself with a strange sort of guilt in the wake of hurting her. She would sport the marks from his hands for the next week at least and her lip had split where he had struck her.

He’d never have known that she had it in her to fight him. He supposed there had been signs – the lean strength of her legs that she liked to wrap around him and the slender musculature of her arms. The awareness in the way she moved…

The first thing he’d done was dress her and tie her up before making sure that no one had heard their tussling. Then, he’d taken her from the house and to his favorite hotel, paying the light night staff for their silence.

Once they’d arrived, he took a long, hot shower.

He needed to think.

Somehow, Demyan had never imagined the Americans would be so dense. An assassination attempt? Now? Surely they had to know that if Osip was killed, he’d only be replaced by someone equally as reckless and cruel. The Russian populace was so indoctrinated to the idea of power and control and the right circumstances for real democracy would take years to cultivate. Did the US really want to throw one of the largest countries in the world into chaos?

Somehow, it seemed unlikely.

…which meant that Cadence was telling the truth.

Intel and reconnaissance.

His thoughts returned to the black book safely returned to the pocket of his coat. Inside it was everything Cadence might need to know that Osip had, indeed, been stockpiling both nuclear and non-nuclear weapons.

He relied heavily on Demyan’s investments to keep research afloat, and to that affect, had directed his finances towards the most profitable arenas for close to two decades. Everything from Middle Eastern oil to rice exports in the US…at this point in his life, Demyan had his fingers in everything, and so,
Osip
had his fingers in everything.

It was the price the dark-haired man paid for Danshov’s trust…and that trust had been instrumental for his own machinations.

As he let hot water sluice over him, he remembered the name and face of the man who had spoken with him about the weapons stored far away from the capital. When the information in Demyan’s book was completed, he’d sent the man and his family into hiding – far from Danshov’s reach – and faked their deaths at his own hand.

It was the only method he could think of for keeping them safe.

For as long as he could remember, Demyan had wondered what his true goals were…if he could ever come to terms with his past. He’d been a puppet in Danshov’s circle since he’d been old enough to be of use; but, unlike Veta, the power had never satisfied him. There was too much hatred for Osip – for the Danshov family – simmering beneath the surface.

And so he waited. And waited.

And then came Cadence Freedman.

As he sat at the foot of the bed in the hotel room, waiting for her to wake, he contemplated. What was he
supposed
to think of her? There was a part of him that doubted everything she said. The US and Russian governments had no lost love for one another. There was a miniscule chance that they’d sent her to her probable death for a chance to depose Osip – or so a part of him believed.

There was a bigger part, however, that wondered tentatively if this wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. Cadence had come for intelligence and he had it – in spades. More than any one person should truly have, but he had spent years earning the trust that had garnered him the information in that black book. He had lost more than any man should lose.

Cadence Freedman could very well represent his only point of escape.

But that was only
if
she was telling the truth, and
if
he was willing to risk his life to bring down a man that could crush him with a snap of his fingers. It was suicide, Demyan knew. But, there were worse things than death, he supposed. What kind of life did he live now, dreaming of his parents senseless deaths every night. Wondering when his sister might let fly the knife she cherished more than her own brother…when Lichakov might wise up and torture fuck him until he was an inch from death…

The latter notion made him snort in dry amusement. No doubt she would enjoy the event far too much for her own good.

He had utterly lost his mind, he knew, if he was pitching his life’s efforts on a single woman. A woman who had lied and cheated her way into his country and into his bed. If he had a single iota of intelligence, he would send her packing. Make up some excuse and have her out of the country by morning.

No wonder his father had always thought him dense.

As the grandfather clock in the room chimed six, Cadence began to stir. For his own safety as well as hers, Demyan had left her bound. He had a childish desire to strip her naked as the day as she was born – to serve her the vulnerability she’d made him feel, if only for a brief moment. But he resisted.

They would talk on level terms – both injured. Both with everything to lose and little to gain.

The Russian watched as Cadence’s eyes fluttered open. She coughed, and a split second later she realized that she was bound. Her eyes widened and she began to struggle immediately, throwing off the blankets with her wild thrashing.

“
Stop
.” His curt order was issued in Russian and Cadence immediately froze, her gaze rising to his. Her gaze narrowed as she wiggled her way backward until she was hedged against the headboard. For a long moment, none of them spoke, a mixture of tension and animosity crackling between them. “We will speak in Russian,” he continued in his mother tongue, “As you so clearly understand it well.”

“
Fine
.” She replied hoarsely, shifting until she was sitting upright. Cadence’s gaze was still wary, her body tense despite her restraints. Demyan forced down the guilt that rose to his throat at the sight of the finger shaped bruises on her throat.

“You say that you only came for intelligence.” He mused aloud. “Tell me, how do I know that once you get it you won’t try for the Prime Minister?”

Cadence’s full mouth pursed in displeasure. “My first priority is to protect the US. A known US citizen killing the Russian Prime Minister isn’t really doing that, is it? You’re smart, Demyan. If this is an assassination attempt, it’s the most half-assed one I’ve ever seen.”

All things he had surmised. Exhaling, he went on. “So, what
do
you plan to do with it?”

“Me, personally?” She replied, clearing her throat in an attempt to rid herself of the discomfort he’d wrought. “Nothing. I give it to the higher ups. They decide what degree of danger it constitutes, and they act. This is defense, not offense.”

Demyan stared at her, his hands folded almost primly in his lap.

This was where things got particularly delicate. Never breaking her gaze, he reached into the pocket of his coat to retrieve the little black book she’d been rummaging through before. When he held it up before her line of vision, her eyes widened. “I assume you know what’s in this?”

Cadence swallowed thickly. “Arms records. Along with a ledger of all the money you paid for them. Stockpile locations. Nuclear contracts. Possible dates.”

He considered her for a long moment. She spoke almost perfect Russian, and was obviously adept at reading and writing as well. She had trained a long time for this. Maybe years.

But he’d been preparing his entire
life
. “There is something more. Something unwritten, but I don’t doubt that it will be of great value to your government.”

Cadence looked slightly skeptical, to say the least. “And what would that be?”

Demyan took a deep breath before answering her. “Codes. Russia’s nuclear codes.”

The dark-haired young woman visibly choked. Her eyes went as wide as saucers. It took her a moment to clear her throat and he resisted the urge to aid her. “
Nuclear
codes?” She gasped incredulously. “What the hell would you be doing with those?”

Demyan crossed his arms over a broad chest. “That doesn’t matter. Rest assured that I have them.”

“Where?” She demanded sharply. “Show me.”

Without a word, Demyan tapped the side of his head gently.

Cadence’s mouth fell open. For at least a full minute, she stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, she burst into laughter. Demyan watched her, waiting patiently for the sounds of her mirth to fade. It took a good while for the young woman to find her breath again, and once she did, she spoke softly.

“Christ, Demyan. Give me a
little
credit. I may have been a little too good at playing my role.”

“I believe, Cadence, that you are intelligent enough to recognize the opportunity this provides for both of us.”

Her brow arched scathingly. “Oh
really
? And what’s that?”

“You get to report this bevy of information back to your superiors. They have all the intelligence they could hope for,
plus
control of the Russian nuclear stockpile. A success for you and your government, wouldn’t you say?”

Cadence’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Right. And what’s in it for you?”

Demyan ran a hand through his hair slowly before answering her. “My diplomatic immunity. I’m sure you can understand how I’d be unable to stay in the country after divulging such sensitive information. Therefore, I’d leave the country with you to deliver it to your government – thereby ensuring Osip remains unharmed and you keep your word.” Before Cadence could offer a word of criticism, he continued. “You were right about one thing, Cadence: I don’t wish to see millions dead. Neither, however, do I wish to see the Russian government topple completely.”

Cadence opened her mouth, then shut it. A profusion of emotions crossed her face, from anger to frustration and sympathy and then back to careful neutrality. “You
do
realize that if you don’t have these codes, we’re both fucked? Danshov could call an attack before we’re halfway back to the US.”

In reply, Demyan offered her a thin smile. “Of course he could…if he knew the codes himself.”

Cadence blinked, her expression disbelieving. “You are
bullshitting
me.” She switched back to English, and the phrase made Demyan smirk at its crassness. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me or not,” he replied crisply. “I have the book. The book leaves with me. Or we come to blows again and you try to take it from me.”

The young woman’s face reddened in obvious frustration. “I’m going to
kill
you.”

Throughout this entire exchange, Demyan found himself oddly aroused. He never thought that violent women would pique his interest; of course, Cadence wasn’t violent per say. She turned to violence when it suited her needs. She was crafty, and she was efficient. Her only mistake had been sleeping with him. “Not like that, you aren’t.”