“She is alive.” He shrugged. “Which is all that concerns me.”
“You—”
“Careful,” he growled, revealing his first hint of emotion. “You don’t want to say something you might regret.”
> Emma deliberately tilted her chin, sensing the hideous man took pleasure in intimidating women. She would be damned before she gave him the satisfaction.
“You are a fool, you know,” she said tartly. “Lord Sanderson has already made his confession to King George and even now is traveling to Russia to appear before Czar Alexander.”
He regarded her with an unnerving intensity. “Which is why I decided to have you join your precious sister.”
“I do not understand.”
“It is fairly simple, kitten.” He leaned forward, wrapping Emma in the stench of stale vodka and unwashed body. “I might have been born in the gutters, but I’ve always had a preference for a more luxurious life.”
She wrinkled her nose, wishing his preference included a bath and change of clothing.
“By kidnapping and selling children?”
He settled back in his seat, his leer sliding over her with a repulsive thoroughness.
“It happens to be a career that pays quite well,” he boasted. “Far better than begging for a handful of coins on the frozen streets of Moscow.”
“There are honest professions,” she rasped.
“Not for a bastard serf.” His short laugh echoed through the carriage. “So far as the empire is concerned we have no use but to be conscripted to the army or buried in the mines of Siberia. Neither fate appealed to me.”
Unfortunately, Emma could not argue. Those in Russia who were born into poverty were rarely given the opportunity to better their lives. In truth their existences were often grim, brutal struggles for survival.
“You implied you had a reason for kidnapping me.” She diverted the conversation back to more important matters.
“Beyond the charm of your companionship?” he mocked.
“Yes.”
“You, kitten, are to be my revenge.”
“Revenge?”
The beady eyes flared with shocking hatred. “Dimitri Tipova has ruined my very lucrative arrangement and that’s not a thing a man forgets. I had to give thought to a proper punishment.”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat. Absurdly, she had never considered the possibility that the demented brute would seek to hurt Dimitri. After all, it didn’t take a great deal of intelligence to realize that a man did not rise to be the czar of the criminal world without the ruthless skill to defeat any opponent.
Now she struggled not to allow a wrenching surge of fear to overwhelm her.
“You have no idea what he is capable of,” she warned. “He will destroy you if you do not flee before he discovers you are in Cairo.”
“Oh, I intend to flee,” he drawled. “Once I am certain that Tipova knows that I have stolen his lover and intend to share her with the most depraved men to be found in Egypt.”
She shifted on the seat, her arms aching from being held above her head. Her mind, however, was racing. This horrid man would not be allowed to hurt Dimitri.
The mere thought of him being injured, or worse, was unbearable.
“You are mistaken.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, forcing herself to meet his malevolent gaze. “I hired Dimitri Tipova to help in my search for Anya, but he is no more than my employee.”