Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

Nikolas bit back the urge to point out the numerous flaws in the plan. His existence might be miserable at the moment, but he was in no hurry to meet the death that lurked in his companion’s eyes.

“So we wait?”

“No, we cannot allow the Countess to suspect this is a bluff,” Richards snapped, a dark edge in his voice making Nikolas relieved that he did not know what was going through his companion’s mind. He sensed it would give him nightmares for weeks to come. “I desire you to approach the Countess again and warn her that for every week that passes, the cost of your silence increases by five thousand rubles.”

Nikolas took a discreet step backward. “And if she refuses?”

“You will continue to pester her. It will keep her fretting rather than devoting her time to considering how to outwit us.” The man’s lips curled into a sneer. “Women are incapable of behaving in a sensible manner when they are flustered.”

Nikolas’s humorless laugh echoed eerily through the room. “Have you ever met the Countess?”

“She is a female.” Richards easily dismissed the strong-willed Countess, obviously unaware of the power she could wield. Stupid man. “Keep her terrified that she is about to lose her devoted and very wealthy lover and she will do whatever necessary to keep her life of luxury.”

“Why must I be the one to approach her?” Nikolas changed tactics. “It seems to me that I am risking my neck while you hide in the shadows.”

Before Nikolas could blink, Richards was across the room, his hands circling Nikolas’s throat with enough pressure to prove he could easily snap his neck.

“That is what you are being paid to do, is it not?” he demanded in low, deadly tones. “And believe me, being caught by the Russian officials is the least of your concern. Fail me and I will cut out your heart and feed it to the wolves. Do you understand?”

Nikolas’s blood froze in his veins. “Yes.”

“Good.”

With a derisive motion, Richards tossed Nikolas against the wall and then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. As if he feared he might have been contaminated.

Bastard.

Pushing from the wall, Nikolas jerked his jacket back into place. “And what will you be doing while I am confronting the Countess?”

“I am traveling to Paris. It will be far easier to keep in contact with my men in England.”

“So you leave me alone to be shot as a traitor?”

“That, mon ami, is entirely in your hands. Do what I command and we both shall be very wealthy gentlemen.”

CHARLES STEPPED FROM the torture room, assured that Nikolas would do as he had been commanded. The wretched creature might long to condemn Charles to the netherworld, but they both knew he would never possess the courage to openly challenge him.

Which, of course, was the reason he had chosen the fool in the first place.

A pity he had not been so clever in predicting the Countess’s stubborn refusal to hand over the money he so desperately needed.

With an effort, Charles battled back the black fury that had plagued him since he was in the nursery. As satisfying as it might be to slice the bitch’s throat, it would not solve his problems.

He had to have money if he wanted to keep his nasty little secrets safe.

A shiver shook his body before he regained command of his icy composure. No. He would not be exposed by a filthy peasant. Even if that peasant was the Beggar Czar, Dimitri Tipova, who reportedly ruled the criminal underworld of St. Petersburg.

Slipping into the room across the hall, he regarded the woman he had ordered to wait for him.

Madam Ivanna was a lushly curved woman who had retained much of her early beauty despite the gray that was threaded through her thick black hair and the wrinkles that fanned beside her wide green eyes. Currently she was attired in a low-cut velvet gown that displayed her considerable charms and matched the decor, but only a fool would miss the shrewd glitter in her eyes.

“Ah, Ivanna, so kind of you to allow me a few moments with my associate.” Moving forward he raised her fingers to his lips, relishing her shiver of disgust. Ah yes, shrewd indeed. Unlike most women, Ivanna was intelligent enough to sense the darkness beneath his handsome countenance and practiced charm. “How can I ever repay you?”

She hastily tugged her fingers from his grasp. “It is nothing, I assure you.”

“You are certain you would not desire a small token of my appreciation?”

“No, it was my pleasure, monsieur.”