Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

Valik was shaking his head before Dimitri finished, his expression hard with suspicion.

“I am not a fool, either. What is to keep your servant from simply shooting me in the heart?”

Dimitri shrugged, already prepared for Valik’s refusal. He preferred to issue commands and have them obeyed, but he could barter with the skill of a merchant when necessary.

“Then we will travel to the mosque together,” he offered. “With me as your hostage my servant will not dare harm you until I am released.”

Valik frowned, silently pacing and weighing the undoubted danger of accepting Dimitri’s offer against the potential benefits.

Dimitri held his tongue, realizing if he pressed too hard the man might give in to his primitive desire to simply shoot him in the heart. He did, after all, hold Dimitri responsible for destroying his very profitable business.

Besides, Dimitri had little more to offer. His plan had been hastily conceived with none of his usual attention to details.

At last the man came to an abrupt halt, a fevered color staining his face.

“No.”

An icy dread lodged in the center of Dimitri’s gut. “No?”

“No.” Valik moved to grab Dimitri’s upper arm in a bruising grip. “I have a better idea.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

WITH HER HARD-EARNED ability to put the latest disaster out of her mind and concentrate on the troubles at hand, Emma efficiently searched the attics for a means to escape, and then when it was obvious she was trapped, she searched again for a potential weapon.

What was the point in giving in to her disappointment at Anya’s betrayal? Or to allow herself to be consumed by the fear of being brutally raped?

Neither would help change her situation.

Instead, she had to keep her thoughts centered on the best means of escaping.

Unable to find any sharp object, she settled for breaking off one leg of a stool she had discovered beneath Anya’s cot and moved to hide behind the door. Eventually someone would come to get her, and she intended to be prepared.

She did not know how much time passed before she heard the heavy sound of approaching footsteps. Ignoring her cramped muscles, she gripped the wooden stool leg. She did not believe for a moment she could overpower a man twice her size and weight, but she hoped to catch the monster off guard. All she needed was enough of a distraction to dart through the door before the man could catch her.

And then…

Well, her plan didn’t extend beyond the

door, but for now that was enough.

Lifting the weapon above her head, she held her breath as the door was pushed open. Then, as the large form of Valik entered the room, she launched herself at his back.

The stool leg shattered as it hit the man’s broad shoulder, but it did not have the impact she hoped for. Instead of sprawling to the ground, the man whirled on his heel, his face an ugly shade of puce as he lifted a meaty hand to hit her.

“Damn you, bitch.”

Braced for the impact, Emma was unaware of the second man who entered the attic. It was not until strong arms wrapped around her from behind and clamped her to a wide chest that she realized the danger.

“No,” the man rasped, surprisingly turning to protect Emma from the blow.

Instantly recognizing the voice, Emma glanced over her shoulder in shock.

“Dimitri?” she breathed, wondering if he were a mirage. Rajih had warned her that the desert was a treacherous place, offering her heart’s desire only to reveal it was all no more than an illusion. Still, he seemed real enough. If he were a figment of her imagination, surely he would not be scowling at her as if he were infuriated by her attack on Valik, or his arms would not be holding her so tightly she could barely breathe? “What are you doing here?”

The golden gaze shifted to Valik, who was angrily pacing through the attic.

“A discussion for later, milaya,” he muttered.