Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

“The pasha had little choice but to insist I remain under guard after a prominent ambassador accused me of trafficking and murder.”

Josef cleared his throat, his gaze nervously darting between the two men.

“Who would want you trapped here?”

Dimitri’s gaze moved with a slow deliberation over Rajih’s poised body.

“There is one gentleman who comes to mind.”

With the elegant ease of a trained swordsman, Rajih had the sword pulled from his belt and the tip pressed beneath Dimitri’s chin.

“If I wished to be rid of you, Tipova, I would not bother with such an elaborate scheme,” the Egyptian warned. “The desert is littered with the bones of my enemies.”

Dimitri was vibrantly aware of a faint breeze wafting through the grilled windows, the perfumed oils that clung to his robe and the trickle of blood that ran from his chin down his neck.

One misstep and he would be skewered.

“Perhaps you did not want me dead, but merely unable to return to Russia with Emma,” he snapped. “With me locked in the citadel, you will be at liberty to offer her…” His jaw tightened. “Comfort.”

The sword dug deeper, making Dimitri flinch, but he ignored the pain. Instead, he concentrated on the outrage that smoldered in Rajih’s dark eyes.

That was not the expression of a man attempting to hide his guilt.

No. He was clearly offended.

Dangerously offended.

“You insult both Emma and myself,” Rajih gritted. “I am not so desperate that I need to trick a female into my arms, and Emma is not so weak she must cling to whatever gentleman happens to be at hand.”

With a grudging reluctance, Dimitri accepted that Rajih was not responsible for his current dilemma.

A pity.

He would have enjoyed wreaking vengeance on the arrogant son of a jackal.

“You are right,” he managed to mutter. “I apologize.”

“Are you taunting me?”

“No.” Dimitri grimaced. “My particular business demands that I be able to discern when someone is lying or telling me the truth. You cannot feign wounded pride.”

With obvious annoyance he would not be allowed to remove Dimitri’s head, Rajih lowered his sword and stepped back.

Josef moved to pour a large glass of the brandy, his expression revealing he held Dimitri entirely responsible for the near disastrous encounter. He downed the liquor in a single swallow.

“If it’s not the caliph, then who?”

Rajih shrugged. “There are others who would wish you to be…indisposed.”

Actually, there was an endless list of potential enemies. He had not achieved his position without cunning, treachery, coercion and a vast amount of brute force. But how many of them knew he was in Cairo? Or in the custody of the pasha?

And how many were powerful enough to force Baron Koman to do his bidding?

He gave a frustrated shake of his head. There was still something he was missing.

“Who do you suspect?”

“Valik’s guards bolted the moment he left the brothel,” Rajih offered. “They would be delighted to have you locked away while they attempt to make their escape from Egypt.”