Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

His instincts dictated a leap forward and wrench her away before gutting the bastard. Instead, he was forced to grit his teeth and wait until Valik was properly distracted. He could not risk Emma being injured because of his primitive urges.

The plan, after all, had been nothing more than a hasty prayer that he would rescue Emma from the looming auction, hopefully without provoking the nervous Russian into killing them all.

“Calm yourself, Valik,” he soothed. “We had a bargain.”

Valik shifted away from him, pointing the pistol against Emma’s temple.

“I am negotiating a new bargain.”

Dimitri tensed, fighting to contain his raging emotions behind icy composure. There had never been a moment more vital to think with a calm detachment.

Calling upon the brutal discipline that he had honed after his mother’s death, he cast a discreet glance toward Josef. This was far from the first dire situation he had shared with his servant, and over the years they had developed an unspoken ability to know precisely what the other was thinking. At times it was almost frightening.

“You are not stupid,” he said, his voice as cold as a winter’s night in Siberia. “You know I will not let you leave with Emma.”

Valik licked his lips, his beady gaze shifting to Josef as the slender man deliberately strolled forward, his hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket to remove a pistol.

“Take another step and I will kill her,” he rasped.

“Josef,” Dimitri pretended to chastise his servant, using Valik’s distraction to shift a step closer.

“I wager I can put a bullet between his eyes before he can shoot the woman,” Josef taunted.

“There will be no need,” Dimitri drawled, taking yet another step. “I am certain Valik intends to be reasonable, do you not?”

As expected, the agitated man did not allow his gaze to waver from Josef, or the gun he was currently pointing in his direction.

“Give me the money.”

Josef held up the purse and allowed it to dangle from the tips of his fingers.

“This money?”

“Tipova, I would suggest that you command your servant to give me what I want,” Valik snarled. “Otherwise your lover is going to suffer a very nasty fate.”

Dimitri could barely hear over his thundering heart, but his hands remained steady as he reached beneath the sleeve of his robe to retrieve his dagger.

For the moment, he was utterly focused. The scent of the perfume makers, the sway of the palm trees, the bray of a nearby donkey and the chill of the night breeze all faded away as he gripped the handle of the dagger. All he needed was the smallest opportunity. Just a breath of a chance.

And he would strike.

“Josef rarely listens to me,” he said. “It is only because he amuses me that I allow him to remain in my employ.”

Josef waved his pistol, keeping Valik’s attention without being overly threatening.

“I thought it was because of my talent for disposing of the corpses you leave behind?”

“Not all those corpses were my doing,” Dimitri protested.

“Yes, but I tidy my own messes.” There was another wave of the pistol. “I suppose I will be expected to dispose of this fool, as well?”

“It is not as if we are in St. Petersburg where you must dig through layers of ice. You can toss him into the desert and leave him for the vultures.”

Josef ran an assessing glance over Valik, his expression sour.

“Perhaps you have failed to notice that he is as large as an ox? You’ll have to hire me help to drag him out of the gutter.”

“There are a number of monkeys scurrying about who might be of assistance.”