Warrior Alpha (Alpha 6) Read online

  He looked up blankly at Gregori, the words meaning nothing to him.

  “Did you hear me—”

  “Yes, I fucking heard you!” Nikolai stood abruptly, feeling confined by the four walls of the hospital waiting room. He had no awareness of just how scary he appeared right now, with his hair standing on end from where he had run his fingers through it time and time again, his face pale and grim, and his clothes covered in blood.

  Daisy’s blood.

  She had been so still and so beautiful in his arms earlier, her face as white as snow.

  “He turned his gun on Seth, and he had no choice but to shoot him. He’s dead.”

  Why the hell didn’t Gregori just leave him alone?

  “Did you hear me, Nikolai— Umph.”

  God, it felt good to hit something. Someone. To keep on hitting them. Over and over again.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Lijah stepped forward to grasp Nikolai’s arms and pull him off Gregori. A Gregori who hadn’t even given him the satisfaction of fighting back as he rained blow after blow on him. “Hold him,” the other man grimly instructed someone else in the room.

  “You need to get it together, man,” Jonas grated as he twisted Nikolai’s arms behind his back and held them there. “Can’t you see we’re all just trying to help you?”

  Help him?

  How the hell could anyone help him now?

  He had pissed off one person too many, and Daisy had paid the price.

  He gazed around him with dull eyes. Recognizing some of the people seated or standing around the waiting room. Dair and Kit Grayson, finally arrived from Venice, their tiny daughter held in Dair’s massive arms. Gregori and Gaia. Lijah and Callie, still in their wedding clothes. Seth. Jonas. Three of his own men. Half a dozen more of Grayson’s. There was also an older couple, Daisy’s parents, he presumed. And a tall muscular man who bore a striking resemblance to Daisy. One of her brothers, because the other one was currently deployed overseas.

  What were they all doing here?

  Didn’t they realize it was too late?

  “The doctor said Daisy has a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the removal of the bullet and the tear in her artery,” Lijah said to him softly, the pity in his eyes enough to tell Nikolai that he appeared as bad as he felt.

  Mostly he just felt numb. Empty.

  Because a fifty-fifty chance of survival wasn’t good enough. Not for Daisy.

  She had been unconscious when he put her in the ambulance and climbed in beside her. She had barely been breathing, her pulse a thin thread. Too thin a thread.

  She’d survived the drive to the hospital, the wailing pulse of the ambulance siren a jarring reminder to Nikolai, as he clasped Daisy’s hand tightly in his, her own pulse growing weaker and weaker.

  She’d been on the operating table for hours now.

  Too many hours.

  Daisy was going to die.

  Everyone else in this room had to know that too.

  She was never going to look at him with those sexy green eyes again. Never going to tease his seriousness with that delicious mouth. Never going to arouse him with the caress of her slender hands—

  “Nikolai?”

  “I heard you,” he bit out calmly, frowning slightly as he saw Gregori was using a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his face. From the pounding of Nikolai’s fists. The man he loved like a brother.

  Had he ever told Gregori that?

  No, of course he hadn’t.

  Men didn’t talk of their feelings for each other. Nikolai Volkov especially didn’t. Because he had believed emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford.

  As if in punishment for that, he was now feeling such an avalanche of emotions, they were threatening to bury him.

  Pain. Loss. Oh God, the loss.

  “Who was it?” he demanded of Gregori, hands clenching into fists at his sides. Wishing the shooter wasn’t dead, needing, wanting to put his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze, denying him the breath that Daisy had been unable to breathe with the weight of her own blood threatening to choke and drown her.

  “One of Petrov’s men,” Gregori revealed grimly.

  Petrov?

  Boris Petrov had ordered this hit?

  “It was a mistake to trust him, Nikolai,” Gregori continued evenly. “My mistake. One Daisy is now paying for,” he added heavily.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Redmond?”

  Nikolai turned round so fast, it made his head spin, the blood draining from his cheeks as he saw the grave expression on the face of the surgeon who had gone into the operating room with Daisy so many hours ago.

  “Nikolai…?”

  “Daisy?” a voice answered her breathlessly. A woman’s voice, not Nikolai’s. “Gregori, she’s awake!”

  Daisy wasn’t so sure about the awake part of that sentence, not when her eyelids felt so heavy, she didn’t have the energy to lift them. Or squeeze the hand that now held onto hers so tightly. In fact, her whole body was like a leaden weight she had no strength or inclination to move.

  She had to move. Had to know—

  Oh God, the pain is too much…

  She woke again minutes—hours, days?—later, her lids still too heavy to open as she slowly became aware of the noises about her. A slow and steady beep-beeping noise. A murmur of voices talking softly, one of them sounding distinctly like her mother. The rustle of clothing, as if someone had moved beside her.

  Her mouth felt dry.

  Her throat sore as she swallowed.

  Her chest was heavy. So heavy. Constricted.

  And why can’t I open my eyelids?

  Bizarre as the idea might seem, could someone have stuck her eyelids together?

  It certainly felt like it. What if—

  No, she remembered now.

  Lijah and Callie’s wedding. Talking to Nikolai as they stepped out into the sunshine. Seeing something, someone, she knew shouldn’t be there. Then the ripping, tearing pain in her chest. Followed by darkness.

  “Nikolai?” she questioned again huskily.

  “It’s Gaia, Daisy. Gaia and Gregori Markovic. Your parents and brothers are here too. Gregori has just gone to get them.”

  Gaia and Gregori were here.

  Wherever “here” was.

  Her parents and her brothers were here too.

  Where was Nikolai?

  She drew in a deep and labored breath, drawing in several smells along with it. Disinfectant. Soap.

  Was she in a hospital?

  Intensive care, in all probability.

  She remembered seeing the gun now. Then the sudden pain in her chest, as if it were exploding, on fire.

  She had been shot.

  And survived, it seemed.

  So where was Nikolai?

  Oh God, had there been a second shot fired? Was Nikolai dead?

  The beeping noise sounded faster, and then faster still.

  The same rhythm as her heart?

  A heart Daisy knew would shatter into a million pieces if they told her Nikolai was dead.

  But what if he wasn’t dead? What if he just didn’t care?

  The blessed darkness returned.

  “—all been so worried about you.”

  Daisy could barely muster the enthusiasm to look at Lijah, let alone take an interest in what he was saying to her.

  It had been a week since she was shot, two days since she had first regained consciousness. She had been slipping in and out of consciousness ever since.

  The surgeon who had removed the bullet and repaired the tear in her artery had assured her, when he examined her yesterday, that her five-day coma wasn’t unusual when the body had suffered major trauma. That very often a patient’s body would simply shut down, conserving and concentrating energy as it healed itself. He assured her she was now well on the road to recovery.

  So much so that this morning they had moved her out of ICU and into a private room in another part of the private hospital.

  She g
lanced at Lijah sitting beside her. “Shouldn’t you and Callie be on your honeymoon?”

  He snorted. “As if anyone was going anywhere when you were on the critical list!”

  Nikolai had gone somewhere.

  He was away on business, someone—she couldn’t remember who—had told her yesterday.

  He hadn’t even cared about her enough to remain in the country, to stay around long enough to know if she would live or die before resuming his life as Gregori Markovic’s head of security.

  “I’m not on the critical list anymore, Lijah,” she assured him dryly.

  She’d had lots of visitors the past two days. Her family. Dair and Kat, Lijah and Callie, Gregori and Gaia. Seth and Jonas. Along with several other employees from Grayson Security.

  Only Nikolai was noticeable in his absence.

  At least, his absence was noticeable to Daisy.

  Now that she had been moved out of intensive care, her hospital room had begun to fill up with flowers.

  None of them were from Nikolai.

  Her chest hurt, both from the penetration of the bullet and the surgery afterward, but it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as her heart did from this confirmation that Nikolai didn’t care about her. He had deliberately, cruelly pushed her away in New York, but this—this seemed so much worse. So much more final.

  “No, you’re not,” Lijah acknowledged gruffly. “But Callie and I are agreed that we’re not going anywhere until we know you’re well enough to leave hospital.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Daisy winced. “The surgeon said it will be at least another week before I can go home.” Home to the love of her parents and her two protective older brothers, her brother Ian having been allowed home on compassionate leave once the army had been informed she had been shot.

  Except her parents’ house no longer felt like home. Nowhere did.

  Because Daisy felt empty inside. Had no interest, no enthusiasm for anything. One of the nurses had told her those feelings of lethargy were the result of the anesthetic she’d been given during her operation. That it would fade as the drug left her system. Daisy knew better. A part of her had died a week ago. The part of her heart that belonged to Nikolai. At first because she had believed he was dead. Now because she knew he wasn’t dead; he really just didn’t care.

  “You haven’t asked who shot you…”

  She hadn’t asked the question because she already knew the answer. She had seen him, just for a fraction of a second, on the edge of the crowd of wedding guests, the gun slowly rising as he lifted his arm. It was one of the men who had been with Boris Petrov at the hotel in New York the day he came to lunch with Gregori.

  She sighed. “Is he dead?”

  Lijah’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  She glanced toward the door, knowing there was a policeman on guard outside. “Do they know that?”

  “Yes.” Lijah grimaced. “They’ve accepted that Seth has a license to carry a firearm, and he was only returning fire after the other man shot first.”

  The police had questioned all the wedding guests about the shooting in the past week. A very nice police inspector had been allowed to question Daisy too yesterday; apparently, two shootings on the streets of London wasn’t an everyday occurrence.

  There was also, her parents had told her in a whisper, a policeman standing guard outside her hospital room twenty-four hours a day. In case the man who shot her had an accomplice.

  Daisy had answered all the police inspector’s questions as honestly as she could without actually telling him anything at all. Her job was a dangerous one, people bore grudges, but no, she couldn’t say she personally knew the man responsible. Which she didn’t; she and Boris Petrov’s bodyguard had never been formally introduced.

  She looked at Lijah. “And Petrov?”

  “Also dead.”

  Her lips curled in the semblance of a rueful smile. “I guess dangling people over balconies isn’t as effective as it used to be!”

  “No, but falling off the roof of an apartment building is,” Lijah said dryly.

  Daisy winced. “Do I want to know how it happened?”

  “Probably best if you don’t.”

  Daisy nodded. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t be accused of withholding from the police.

  She glanced toward the window. “It’s getting late.” The police had instructed the venetian blinds be pulled down at the windows of her room, as a safety precaution, but she could see that it was dark outside.

  “Tired?” Lijah seemed concerned.

  “Not really.” She no longer had the intravenous drip, was eating and drinking on her own now, but she still kept drifting in and out of sleep. Probably as a result of the strong painkillers they were now giving her orally.

  “Do you feel strong enough to talk about Nikolai?”

  Daisy flinched just hearing his name. “I have nothing to say about him.” She winced as her vehemence resulted in a painful pulling at the wound on her chest.

  A wound that would leave a scar. A forever reminder of Nikolai and what he’d meant to her. What he still meant to her. Just because love wasn’t reciprocated didn’t mean it died.

  And in spite of everything, she still loved Nikolai.

  She just didn’t ever want to talk about him.

  Because it hurt her too much to know how little she mattered to him. She had known what sort of man he was, and he had warned her himself not to get involved with him. She couldn’t blame him now if he’d behaved in exactly the way he’d warned her he would.

  No, she couldn’t blame him, but she didn’t have to rub salt into the wound either. “Sorry.” She gave Lijah a grimace of apology. “I’d just rather not talk about him, if that’s okay?”

  “Are you angry with him?” Lijah was incredulous.

  She quirked a brow. “You don’t think I should be?”

  “Dair and I are the ones who made the decision to set you up undercover as Nikolai’s girlfriend, and in doing so, we made you a target.” Lijah stood up to begin pacing restlessly.

  “That isn’t why I’m angry with him.” Daisy shook her head. Her anger toward Nikolai had absolutely nothing to do with that. “I believe that was a group decision made by you, Gregori, and me. Nikolai was the only one who objected to it.”

  “Nevertheless, the two of you obviously became close in New York—”

  “We had sex, Lijah. You can’t get any closer than that!”

  He winced. “TMI, Daisy.”

  “Don’t be such a prude,” she teased him. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter what happened between the two of us in New York. We hadn’t even seen each other again until the wedding,” she added as Lijah looked at her questioningly. “He hasn’t exactly been a constant visitor to the hospital since I was shot either. The cold and arrogant Nikolai Volkov has carried on with his life as if nothing happened.”

  He stopped his pacing. “You really believe that?”

  She shrugged. “He isn’t here, is he?”

  “That’s because—”

  “I believe I am more than capable of defending myself, Lijah. If I feel the need,” the voice of “the cold and arrogant Nikolai Volkov” interrupted harshly.

  Chapter 16

  “What’s the use of having police protection?” Daisy muttered bad-temperedly as she glared at Nikolai now sitting in the chair beside her bed. Lijah had excused himself and left a few minutes ago. Much to her obvious annoyance. “It seems they’re just letting anyone into my room now!”

  God, I’ve missed this, Nikolai acknowledged achingly. I’ve missed Daisy. Not just her smart mouth, but everything about her.

  A feeling he knew wasn’t reciprocated, if the look of dismay on her face when she’d turned sharply to see him standing in the doorway was an indication. And he knew that it was. They may have “had sex in New York,” but he was also the man responsible for her having been shot. For very nearly getting her killed.

  The fact she had turned to Lijah and de
manded accusingly, “Did you know he was coming here tonight?” wasn’t exactly welcoming either.

  Lijah hadn’t known Nikolai would be at the hospital tonight. Nikolai hadn’t known himself until he made the telephone call asking the pilot to have the Markovic jet fueled and ready for takeoff, along with a flight plan for the UK.

  Because he had needed to see for himself that Daisy was alive and well. Lijah’s and Gregori’s daily telephone calls were helpful, but not the same as actually seeing Daisy.

  Hearing the end of her conversation with Lijah told him Daisy was not only over him, but also well and truly pissed at him for disappearing so abruptly.

  He had to ensure that nothing he said or did tonight changed that. Otherwise, these past weeks of keeping his distance from her, this last week especially, would all have been for nothing.

  He sobered. “Apparently, I managed to convince the police I intend you no harm.”

  “What you intend and what actually happens appear to be two distinctly different things!”

  He winced at the pointed accusation in her tone. “That problem has been dealt with.”

  “No thanks to you!” The knuckles of her hands showed white as she tightly gripped the bedclothes at chest level.

  Did Daisy really believe that? Really think that he wouldn’t wreak revenge and justice on the people who had tried to hurt her? That those people wouldn’t be made to pay for almost killing her?

  The angry glitter in her accusing eyes said that she did.

  Because that’s what I want her to believe.

  What he had to let her continue to believe.

  Because he had already caused this beautiful young woman enough harm just by knowing her and being near her.

  She didn’t need to know he had flown to New York a week ago, that he had personally dealt with Boris Petrov.

  Unfortunately, Petrov’s death had resulted in complete turmoil within the Orlov organization, necessitating that Nikolai stay and deal with that too. In truth, he had been glad of the diversion.

  Everyone had been sworn to secrecy regarding where he was and what he had been doing this past week. A promise he knew Lijah, out of a friend’s concern, had seriously been in danger of betraying a short time ago.