They both stiffened as the door to the carriage was slowly pulled open.
“Dimitri,” she breathed, her mouth dry with fear.
“Remember,” he urged harshly. “You are to go directly to Josef and do not leave his side.”
Valik stood beside the open doorway, his pistol pointed directly at Dimitri.
“Out, Tipova. Slowly.” The large man watched Dimitri climb out of the carriage, his expression wary and his large face damp with sweat. Then, he lifted his hands to unlock the manacles holding Emma captive. “Now for you.”
“Valik, if you leave a mark on her skin I will make certain your next profession is being a eunuch,” Dimitri drawled, the lethal edge in his voice unmistakable.
The man made no response as he grabbed Emma’s arm and roughly hauled her from the carriage. She could hear the rapid rasp of his breath and feel the tremble of his body. Valik was near a state of panic. Which could only mean disaster.
Feeling as if her heart were being crushed by a giant fist, Emma sent Dimitri a frantic glance, silently willing him not to do anything that might startle the growingly desperate fool. Dimitri, however, ignored her silent warning. Instead, he was watching Valik with the eyes of a predator preparing to strike.
Maintaining his bruising grip, Valik jerked Emma around the end of the carriage, allowing her a glimpse of the nearby mosque.
Constructed of bricks with a stone facade, the mosque had been built by Fatimid Caliph al-Aziz in 990 and, according to Rajih, it had recently been used by Napoleon as a fortress despite the insult to the faithful citizens of Cairo.
From her vantage she could see the central portal and the two corner minarets that marked the entrance to the courtyard framed by open arcades, but it was too dark to fully appreciate the beauty of the ancient structure.
And of course, it did not improve matters that she was currently being held captive by a dangerous lunatic.
“Where is your servant?” Valik demanded.
Dimitri paused, perhaps sensing Valik’s growing apprehension, then, turning toward the mosque, he gave a low whistle.
There was a tense moment before a black carriage turned the corner and rolled to a halt on the opposite side of the street. A slender servant in a linen shirt and loose trousers leaped from the driver’s seat and tied off the reins. He had reached the middle of the street when Valik lifted a warning hand, perhaps unnerved by the sight of the man’s hard face marred by a scar running along his cheek, or the barely leashed violence that glittered in his eyes.
“Do not come any closer.”
“Josef.” Dimitri shifted to stand beside Valik. “You have the money?”
“I do.” The servant held up a leather purse.
“Give it to me,” Valik commanded.
“No,” Dimitri snapped. “We will do this exchange by my rules.”
Emma felt the slave trader stiffen in outrage, the rasp of his heavy breathing and the sour scent of his fear sending a prickle of warning over her skin.
“You may command the streets of St. Petersburg, Tipova, but I do not take orders from you,” he said, his voice thick with hatred.
“You will if you want your money.”
“What do you want?”
“Release Emma. Once she is in the carriage, Josef will toss you the purse.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Josef, open the purse,” Dimitri ordered. On cue, Josef loosened the leather drawstrings and opened the purse so the torchlight could flicker over the silver rubles inside. “You see?” Dimitri said. “It is just as I promised.”
“And as soon as you have the female you will have me shot,” Valik muttered, jerking Emma against his foul body and wrapping a thick arm around her waist. “No. Give me the money and I will leave the woman near the citadel.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DIMITRI SWALLOWED HIS curses and struggled against the pounding fury that beat through his body at the sight of Emma being manhandled by the filthy creature.