There was nothing she could do, nothing that she could offer, that would be enough for her sister.
Nothing.
“No, she is lost to me.”
“Emma, listen to me,” he urged, his voice lowering to ensure it did not carry past bars that blocked the windows. Not that it was likely Valik could overhear anything over the clatter of the crowds that filled the streets. How late was it, she inanely wondered? Midnight? Certainly Cairo was still bustling. “Caliph Rajih is waiting outside the brothel. As soon as he is certain you are safe he will rescue the girls and capture the remaining guards,” Dimitri assured her. “As much as I might hate the bastard, you can trust Anya to his care.”
Emma felt a surge of relief that girls being held captive would at last be safe, but shook her head at Dimitri’s belief that Anya would be among the rescued women.
“You do not understand, Anya is already gone.”
He stilled, his eyes narrowing at her words. “I remember you said that a guard had come to take Anya from the attics,” he said slowly. “I sensed then you were lying.”
“It was all I could think of to keep him from going in search of her.”
His hand cupped her cheek. “Where is she?”
“I had only been in the attics for a few moments when she gathered a satchel and escaped through a trap door in the roof. She claimed that her beloved was awaiting her.”
“And you remained behind?”
She turned her head, unable to watch the dawning comprehension in the golden eyes.
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
“Surely we should be discussing how we are to escape?” she demanded, watching the light flickering beyond the carriage window. How much farther to the mosque? Surely they had to be close?
Dimitri firmly turned her face back to meet his ruthless scrutiny.
“Why did you remain in the attics, Emma?”
“Because Anya locked the door behind her,” she snapped. “Are you satisfied?”
Emma was not surprised by the furious outrage that rippled over his beautiful face. Dimitri Tipova might be considered a criminal by most, but he possessed an unwavering sense of honor and a loyalty to those who depended on him. He would consider Anya’s abandonment the worst sort of treachery.
“No, I am damned well not satisfied,” he growled, a violent anger glittering in his eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that the ungrateful brat not only deserted you so that she could flee with her lover, but that she blocked a means for you to escape even knowing you were to be sold as a whore?”
Emma shrugged, weary of the bitter disappointment that spilled through her heart like acid.
“It no longer matters.”
“When I manage to capture that bitch—”
“Please, Dimitri,” she husked, unwilling to hear his opinion of Anya.
“I do not care if she is your sister or not, if she ever hurts you again, she will answer to me.”
“She was my family,” she reminded him, telling herself that his fierce threat did not send a jolt of satisfaction through her. She could surely not be so petty. “Now I am alone.”
The raven brows lifted at her husky words. “Is that a jest?”
“It is the truth.”
His jaw tightened, revealing an unexpected annoyance. Why? With both her parents dead and Anya gone, there was no one left in her life.
“Then you must inform Herrick Gerhardt who has publicly claimed you as his cousin, as well as Vanya who considers you a beloved friend.” His voice held a sardonic bite. “Ah, yes, and there is Leonida who threatened unmentionable harm on my manhood if I did not return you unharmed to the Huntley town house.”
“It is not the same as—”
“I suppose I should also include Caliph Rajih, may his soul rot in hell, who is willing to risk the displeasure of this pasha to make you his wife,” he relentlessly overrode her protest.
Her cheeks burned. A part of her accepted that Dimitri was not merely offering false comfort. Since leaving Yabinsk she had discovered that there were truly good people in the world willing to offer her assistance. Still, after so many years of having no one but herself to depend upon, it was difficult to put her trust in others.
“He is not thinking clearly,” she said.
“No, he is not.” The golden eyes flashed with an unnerving determination. “If he was, then he would know that you belong to me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she jerked away from his lingering touch.
“I do not belong to you, Dimitri Tipova.”
“Of course you do.” He settled back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest. “You are not alone, Emma. Not ever again.”
A perilous yearning tugged at her heart. He could so easily make her weak when she needed to be strong.
Stronger than she had ever been in her life.
“Do you have a plan for our escape or not?” she rasped.
His frustrated sigh filled the carriage. “It is more of a bargain than a plan. Josef is waiting for us at the mosque with money that I will offer to Valik for our freedom.”
She frowned, wondering if he were disguising his true plan.
“You intend to bribe him?”
His lips twisted at the unmistakable disbelief in her voice. “It seemed the best means to ensure you were not harmed.”
“And after you give him the money?”
He shrugged. “We shall hopefully never again be forced to endure his unpleasant company.”
“You will allow him to flee?”
He caught and held her suspicious gaze. “If it means that you are safe.”
She studied his somber expression, unable to stay her flicker of distrust.
“What of your revenge?”
“How often must I tell you that there is nothing more important than you?” He leaned forward, claiming her lips in a punishing kiss. “Nothing.”
She forgot the discomfort of having her arms trapped above her head and the fact they were both at the mercy of a heartless slave trader. Instead, she sank into the persuasive demand of his kiss, needing the reassurance she was not to be betrayed and abandoned once again.
It was only when the sway of the carriage lessened that she pulled back, her heart squeezing with a surge of fear.
“We are slowing.”
He swore, unable to hide his concern.
“Emma, I have no means to make certain that Valik will not attempt something desperate.”
“What do you mean?”
The carriage halted and Emma heard the sound of Valik leaping to the ground and striding around the vehicle.
“As soon as Valik has released you I have told Josef to put you in the carriage and leave.” He glanced toward the window before turning back to stab her with an urgent gaze. “No matter what might happen.”
“You believe Valik intends to betray us?”
He paused, clearly caught between the desire to reassure her and the knowledge that she would prefer the truth.
“For the moment he is desperate to escape, but once he has the money in his hands, he will recall that I am to blame for all his troubles,” he admitted. “At such moments men tend to toss aside good sense and allow their emotions to rule them.”
Her eyes ran a lingering glance over his beautiful face, drinking in every line and curve that was indelibly engraved on her mind.
“Men such as you?” she asked softly.
“I never let my emotions rule me.”
A sickening dread welled through her heart as she heard Valik’s approaching footsteps.
“If that were true you would not have tried to rescue me. And you most certainly would not be in this carriage.”
He shrugged. “It was a logical decision.”
“It was insanity.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Dimitri, if something were to happen to you—”
“Emma, I command hundreds of cutthroats, thieves and pickpockets, all of whom are far more dangerous th
an Valik,” he reassured her. “So long as I know that you are out of danger I am capable of besting a mere slave trader.”
She bit her lower lip. “You are not so invincible as you believe.”
“Of course I am. You will not be rid of me so easily.”
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.
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.”
Vali
k nervously shifted. “You cannot fool me into believing you do not care about the woman.”
Realizing that the slave trader was about to turn and discover how close to his back Dimitri had moved, Josef gave a wild laugh as he stumbled toward him.
“I don’t,” he called. “And since I am the one with the pistol…”
Startled by the sudden movement, Valik allowed his fear to overcome him. Removing the pistol from Emma’s temple he instead pointed it in Josef’s direction.
“I told you to stay back.”
A cold smile curved Dimitri’s lips as he attacked.
The bastard had made two mistakes. The first was assuming that Josef was the more dangerous adversary. And the second was turning his gun away from Emma. It had been his one guarantee that Dimitri would not dare to strike.
Plunging the knife deep in Valik’s back, Dimitri wrapped an arm around his throat and yanked him to the side, effectively dislodging Emma from the man’s grasp. Only then did he drive the larger man to the dirt road, digging the knife deeper into his flesh.
Valik grunted, briefly caught off guard. Dimitri was swift to take advantage, jerking the dagger free only to slam it low in the man’s back, experienced enough to avoid the ribs so the blade could dig deep into his body.
Dimitri felt warm blood rush over his hand, cursing Valik’s massive size and ruthless thirst for survival. A lesser man would have conceded defeat, realizing he had been mortally wounded.
Valik, however, refused to accept fate without a fight and with a sudden roar he swung out a beefy arm. His elbow connected with Dimitri’s chin with shocking force, briefly blinding him with pain.
Dimitri cursed, his hold on his opponent loosening. It was enough for Valik to roll away, shrieking in pain as Dimitri grimly held on to the dagger while it was ripped from Valik’s flesh.
For an odd, timeless motion the two of them lay on the road, face-to-face with the spectrum of death hovering between them. Valik’s eyes glittered with demented fury, flecks of blood visible on his lips. In contrast, Dimitri was coldly determined, quite willing to die if it meant saving Emma.
Then, as one, they both moved to put an end to the violent encounter.
Pulling back his arm, Dimitri swung it in an arc, surprised when Valik made no effort to deflect the blow. It was not until the explosive sound of a firing pistol nearly deafened him that he realized the man was still holding his gun. And that he had shifted to aim the weapon directly at him.
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