Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

“What information?” he growled.

Dimitri unconsciously tapped his fingers on the cushions of the divan. It was one thing to be cautious, but did the fool intend to spend the entire evening chatting?

Rajih’s patience would not last for long, and as for Josef…well, if the fiercely loyal servant became convinced that Dimitri was in danger, he would do whatever necessary to rescue him.

Including putting Emma at risk.

“The most interesting was the tearful confessions of a female servant who spoke of a Russian man who bribed her to lure Emma into a waiting carriage behind the harem,” Dimitri said, coming straight to the point.

“Bitch.”

“It was then the caliph sent a servant to trail your carriage through the heavy traffic while he gathered his guards and prepared an assault on those who had dared to kidnap his favorite concubine.” Dimitri leaned forward, not bothering to hide his smoldering frustration. “I followed the servant so I could arrive before Rajih and slip Emma away.”

Valik shoved his fingers through his hair, his expression harassed.

“Are the two of you demented?” he muttered. “The woman is a sharp-tongued vixen who any man with a thimble of sense should be delighted to be rid of.”

Dimitri’s hand instinctively slid up the sleeve of his robe where he had a dagger strapped to his forearm. He had another dagger tucked in his soft leather boots and a pistol in the holster beneath his left arm. The guards had been fools not to search him more carefully for weapons.

Unfortunately, he was not yet in a position to slice Valik open and leave him for the jackals. That particular pleasure would have to wait until he was certain Emma and the other girls were well away from the bastard.

“If that is true then you will be relieved to give her into my care.”

“No.” Coming to a halt, the Russian scowled in frustration. “You have destroyed my life, you smug bastard. Now you shall witness your woman used by every male who attends the auction this evening before I put you out of your misery.” He paused, his expression gloating. “Perhaps I should warn you, some of the men can be excessively rough. I doubt Emma will survive the experience.”

Dimitri slowly rose to his feet, refusing to react to the taunt despite the savage fury churning in his heart.

He had discovered as a youth on the streets of St. Petersburg that it was the man who refused to be goaded who survived.

Cold logic was always superior to mindless anger. Just as intelligence was always superior to brute strength.

He would eventually have the opportunity to make this man suffer. The sort of slow, agonizing suffering that could only end in death. But for now he had to convince the bastard that there was only one means for his survival.

“Are you deaf?” he taunted. “There will be no auction, Valik. Already the caliph is preparing to attack.”

Sweat bloomed on the man’s forehead, his breathing heavy. “Then I will kill you both and escape.”

“Escape to where?” Dimitri pressed. “You are in a foreign country and I will bet my last drachma that you have little money. And worse, your wealthy associates are too consumed with their own survival to lend you assistance.” He glanced toward a grilled window where the sound of braying donkeys and the distant howl of jackals were poignant reminders of how far from home they were. “A pity.”

“I will sell the females,” he stubbornly insisted.

Dimitri gave a bark of laughter. “You can sell a pack of terrified young women while fleeing from the caliph’s guards? I doubt that even you are that talented.”

Valik’s bravado faltered beneath Dimitri’s ruthless prodding, his hand swiping at the sweat that dripped down his brow.

“What do you offer?” he demanded at last.

Dimitri folded his hands over his chest. “You will allow me to leave the brothel with Emma and the other females. In return I will give you five hundred rubles.”

“Five hundred?” The man licked his lips. “A paltry sum for a man in your position.”

Dimitri had deliberately chosen a sum that would be large enough to tempt the man without being overly excessive. Valik was too cunning not to suspect a trap if Dimitri were willing to offer a fortune.

“It is what I have at hand and certainly it is enough to purchase a ticket upon a ship leaving Egypt,” he said. “It offers you hope.”

“You have the money with you?”

Dimitri narrowed his gaze. “I did just tell you that I was neither stupid nor careless. My servant is waiting at the Al-Hakim mosque. He will give you the money once he is certain I am safe.”