Once they were lost in the thick shadows, he grabbed Fawzi’s arm and yanked him close enough he could whisper in his ear.
“Is that his carriage?”
He pointed toward the black vehicle that was parked before an abandoned building. At a glance he could determine no more than it resembled nearly every other carriage in Cairo and that there was one burly Egyptian groom standing next to the horse, lazily smoking a cheroot.
A closer glance, however, revealed the occasional twitch of the curtain that covered the carriage window, as if whoever was inside was growing impatient, and the slouched inattention of the groom.
His sheer negligence was a silent invitation to be hit over the head.
Obviously, whoever was plotting his death clearly had no military training and few skills necessary to survive the streets.
“Yes,” Fawzi said. “I recognize the servant.”
Josef moved to stand at his side. “Do I need to remind you that this is perhaps the most stupid decision you have ever made, Tipova?” he growled. “Including the night you dueled with three swordsmen at the same time.”
A reminiscent smile touched his lips. Over the years his authority had often been challenged. His polished manners and preference for elegant attire convinced some fools that he could not possibly be as dangerous as his reputation implied.
In the past, he had enjoyed proving his worth.
Thankfully, he had reached an age where he was ready to put such reckless stupidity behind him.
No doubt because he now had something, or rather someone, to live for.
“I won, did I not?”
Josef narrowed his gaze, clearly not amused by his teasing.
“Damn you. We have escaped. Allow me to gather the others and we can be far away from Cairo before the pasha realizes we are no longer his guests.”
Dimitri shook his head, his attention returning to the carriage across the road.
“Not until I discover who is so anxious to see me dead.”
“What does it matter so long as they do not succeed?”
“Because they will quite likely try again.” His gaze shifted to the nearby buildings, searching for hidden dangers that might be lurking in the shadows. “I do not intend to spend the remainder of my life in fear.”
“You always have enemies wishing you harm,” Josef muttered. “It has never troubled you before.”
Dimitri turned to meet his servant’s frustrated glance, his expression somber.
“I now have another’s welfare to consider,” he said, his tone suggesting that he would not compromise when it came to protecting Emma. “I will not leave here until I have brought an end to the threat.”
“But…”
“My decision is made, Josef,” Dimitri interrupted. “Fawzi.”
“Yes?”
He pointed across the street. “I want you to approach the carriage and pretend that you have accomplished your mission.”
“No, I have done all you have asked of me,” Fawzi whined in alarm. “If I go to the man without the proof he demanded I will be shot.”
Josef waved his knife in front of the man’s face. “If it is an eye you are wanting then I can make certain you have what you need.”
Not surprisingly, Fawzi fell back with a squeal, his face drenched with sweat.
“Josef.” Dimitri sent the servant a warning glare. “I have need of him.”
“Why?”
“He can provide a distraction while you dispose of the groom.”
“And what of you?”
“I intend to join our mysterious lurker.”
Josef clenched his jaw, his disapproval etched on every line of his face.
“Don’t be a fool,” he gritted. “We have no notion how many men might be in the carriage.”
Dimitri grimaced. That was an unfortunate risk. But what choice did he have?
“No, but I will have the element of surprise.”
Josef snorted. “Surprise will not halt a bullet to your heart.”
“Trust me.”
The men exchanged glares, then at last accepting that nothing would prevent Dimitri from confronting the unknown enemy, Josef heaved a frustrated sigh.
“Damn you, Tipova.”
Keeping his firm hold on the Egyptian, Dimitri urged him toward the edge of the palm trees.
“Fawzi, I want you to count to twenty and then approach the carriage.”
“And when he asks if you are dead?” the man rasped.
“Use your imagination. Just keep him occupied.” His grip momentarily tightened, biting into Fawzi’s arm with a warning pressure. “Oh, and Fawzi?”
The Egyptian swallowed heavily. “What?”
“If you attempt to reveal our presence, I will not only shoot you, but I will have you chopped into pieces and delivered to your poor, sick mother.” He smiled with a cold cruelty that had frightened men far more courageous than Fawzi. “Do you understand?”
It took a moment for Fawzi to regain enough composure to give a shaky nod.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Dimitri gestured toward his servant. “Josef, the guard.”
Muttering curses in various languages, Josef silently disappeared and headed down the street so he could approach the groom from behind. Dimitri followed several steps behind him, waiting near the corner for Fawzi to stumble and sway his way across the street.
Dimitri grimaced at the man’s craven lack of discipline, but at least his peculiar manner had attracted the attention of the guard who remained oblivious as Josef approached and whacked the back of his head with the hilt of his knife.
With a grunt, the man tumbled to the ground, and Josef smoothly took the reins of the horse, keeping it from jarring the carriage. At the same moment, Dimitri moved forward, his gaze locked on Fawzi who was leaning toward the curtained window, speaking softly to whoever was inside.
He took a moment to make certain his pistol was primed, then with one smooth motion he had the door open and was surging into the carriage to press his gun against the chest of the man seated near the window.
“I suggest you sit very still and lift your hands so I can see them,” he commanded, waiting until the stranger had raised his arms over his head before he used his free hand to search the man for weapons. Predictably he found an ivory-handled dueling pistol in the pocket of the caped greatcoat and a smaller gun tucked in the top of the glossy Hessians. He suspected there might be more hidden about the carriage, but for the moment he was satisfied that there were none near at hand. Keeping the pistol pointed at his companion, he settled in the opposite seat and offered a small smile. “Now, I believe introductions are in order.”
There was a tense silence before the man slowly reached up to grasp the brim of his high beaver hat and toss it onto the seat beside him.
“While I would say they are superfluous,” he drawled.
Dimitri stiffened, an icy shock momentarily halting his heart and squeezing the air from his body.
Although the inside of the carriage was dark, the curtain had been pushed aside to allow a spill of silver moonlight to wash over the man’s gray hair and the elegantly carved features. Features that were heavily lined from a life of self-indulgence.
No. He grappled to make sense of what he was seeing. It was not possible.
And yet…
And yet, it could be that this moment had been destined since the day Count Nevskaya had forced the innocent child of a local cobbler to his bed.
The golden eyes that were a mirror image of Dimitri’s flashed with a familiar hatred, jerking him out of his fog of disbelief.
“Father,” he drawled, his voice cold and perfectly steady. Despite his shock, he had developed the ability to confront any situation with utter composure. Besides, he was beginning to suspect that fate had offered him a rare opportunity he would be an idiot to squander. “What an unpleasant surprise.”
“I heartily return the sentiment,” the count sneered. “You were suppose
d to be dead.”
“While you were supposed to be rotting in Czar Alexander’s prison.”
With a tight smile, Nevskaya adjusted the signet ring he wore on his pinkie, seemingly indifferent to the gun pointed at his heart.
And perhaps he was.
Dimitri had devoted years to governing his feelings. It had been a necessary skill to survival. He suspected his father, however, was not disguising his emotions. Count Nevskaya was simply devoid of all but anger and hatred.
How else could he have tossed his pregnant lover into the gutter? Or abused children without remorse?
“Clearly we are both doomed to disappointment,” he murmured.
“What are you doing in Cairo?”
“Valik sent a messenger to St. Petersburg to warn me that Dimitri Tipova had followed him to London and was busily destroying the business I worked for years to create.”
Dimitri’s lips twisted. “Do you expect an apology?”
Nevskaya wrinkled his nose as if there were a foul smell in the air.
“I expect you to tend to your criminal activities and leave me in peace.”
“But I do not wish to leave you in peace,” he informed his father, his gaze never wavering from the face that had haunted him for too many years. “I want you to suffer exquisite agony each and every day of your miserable existence.”
“Such melodrama.” The count waved a dismissive hand. “You are so regrettably like your mother.”
Dimitri’s finger tightened on the trigger of his gun, only distantly aware of the sound of footsteps as Fawzi grasped his opportunity to escape.
How satisfying would it be to put a bullet in the reprobate’s black heart?
“I happen to consider that a compliment,” he gritted. “My mother was a beautiful, courageous woman who was destroyed by a disgusting letch.” He flicked a contemptuous gaze over his father. “You are not worthy to speak her name.”
“She was a peasant who was fortunate to have won my attention.”
Oh, yes, definitely a bullet straight into his heart.
“Quite fortunate,” he snapped. “She was raped, impregnated and then tossed into the gutter to die. I cannot fathom why she was not overwhelmed with gratitude.”
“Bah.”
Dimitri bit back his angry words. He was wasting his breath if he hoped to make his father suffer the least amount of guilt. The only means of truly wounding him was to attack his insufferable pride.
He forced himself to lean back in the seat, his expression sardonic.
“Of course, she did manage to outwit you.”
“Absurd.”
“How furious you were when she arrived on your doorstep and demanded that you pay for your son’s education.” Dimitri chuckled, genuinely enjoying the memory of his mother’s boldness, her spine stiff and her head held high as the count threatened any number of vile retributions. “But she would not be bullied or cowed.”
“I should have had you both disposed of like the vermin you were,” his father bit out.
“Yes, it is a pity you were a pathetic coward who allowed yourself to be manipulated by a mere whore.”
Fury flared through his father’s golden eyes as an ugly color crawled beneath his skin. Dimitri braced himself, willing the man to attack. He might have qualms about shooting an unarmed man, no matter how deserving of death he might be, but he would not hesitate to defend himself.
Then, with an obvious effort, the count wrapped himself in his haughty composure.
“She soon enough regretted her temerity,” he taunted. “I heard that she died in the gutter.”
Dimitri smiled, grimly refusing to react. “And now you are about to share her fate.”
Nevskaya’s gaze covertly shifted toward the gun before returning to Dimitri’s face. It was no more than a flicker. But it was enough to convince Dimitri that his father was not quite as impervious to the dangers of his situation as he would have him believe.
“You think I fear death?”
“Yes, I think you fear it very much,” Dimitri said slowly. “But who could blame you? Men who prey on children are destined for the deepest pits of hell.”
“I am a nobleman,” he announced with cold disdain. “I am above tedious morals.”
Dimitri grimaced. He might have laughed if not for the knowledge Nevskaya truly believed his social position gave him liberty to commit any sin with impunity.
And worse, he was not alone in his arrogance.
Despite Alexander Pavlovich’s best attempts to rid Russia of its barbaric reputation there remained a blatant belief among the nobles that they possessed the God-given right to treat serfs however they pleased. Indeed, it was rumored the czar’s own military advisor had recently beat to death one of his peasants.
Still, there was a growing disapproval toward such outlandish behavior as the czar became increasingly pious, filling his royal court with his more conservative supporters.
He shook his head, turning his thoughts to more important matters.
“You have not yet explained why you are in Cairo.”
The older man shrugged. “Once I discovered that Sanderson had been arrested I knew it was only a matter of time before the idiot revealed my part in the—”
“Trafficking of children?” Dimitri supplied.
“Arrangement.”
“I do not understand.” Dimitri tilted his head to the side, a goading smile on his face. “If noblemen are above morals, then what do you care if your sins are exposed to the world?”
“Unlike his proud ancestors, Alexander Pavlovich is a weak, ineffective ruler who has allowed himself to become a tedious prude.” His words echoed Dimitri’s earlier thoughts. “His father would have been ashamed to know he had spawned such a spineless bore.”
Dimitri shuddered. Czar Paul had been a brutal, stupid man, and a notoriously corrupt leader who had been increasingly unstable before his timely demise.
But then again, it was predictable that his father would prefer the man who had repealed Catherine’s laws intended to protect the peasants.
“Hardly spineless.” He settled more comfortably on the leather seat. “Alexander Pavlovich did, after all, manage to take the throne when he was still little more than a lad. A bold stroke.”
“A knife in the back is the behavior of a coward.”
“A rabid dog has to be put down by any means necessary.”
The count made a sound of disgust, typically more concerned with his perverted sense of honor than the most basic morality.
“You would certainly think so. Peasants have no notion of honor.”
Dimitri studied the man seated across from him, shifting through the confusing emotions that battered him.
For so many years Count Nevskaya had been the demon who haunted his life. The choices he had made, the sacrifices he’d suffered and the ruthless hunger to achieve a place in the world where he could never be a victim had all been due to his father.
Now as he sat across from the blackguard, he wondered why he had ever given him such power over his existence.
Not that he didn’t still hate him with a violent passion. Or wish him into the fiery pits of hell.
But he was beginning to realize that Count Nevskaya was a cold, insignificant fool who had condemned himself to a life of lonely misery years ago.
A man who no longer had the power to hurt him.
A heady sense of relief raced through his blood. As if a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders.
Or perhaps it was his heart.
“Do you truly believe yourself superior to me simply because of an accident of birth?” he demanded.
His father sniffed, offended by the mere question. “I am Count Nevskaya, an ancient and noble title. The blood of royalty flows through my veins.”
“And yet, for all your grand titles and royal blood you have squandered your fortune and have become a common beggar, pleading to your wife’s brother to keep your roof from tumbling onto your head.”
Dimitri took pleasure in reminding the pompous twit. “And of course, you are forced into kidnapping helpless children with the assistance of ridiculous buffoons such as Sanderson to support your debauchery.” A cold smile curved his lips. “I, on the other hand, have amassed a vast fortune and purchased more than a dozen estates that are all fully staffed with loyal servants.”
“You are an uncouth savage,” his father snarled.
“And yet, I am welcomed at the Winter Palace while you have now become a source of embarrassment,” Dimitri pressed. “No one in society would allow you across their thresholds.”
Nevskaya flinched before he could stop the revealing movement, his gaunt face unnaturally pale.
Satisfaction warmed Dimitri’s heart. For a man with his father’s bloated pride it was unbearable to be shunned by his peers.
“This scandal will pass in time,” the older man muttered.
“Not if you are locked in Czar Alexander’s prison. Which is precisely why you fled when you discovered that Sanderson was revealing your sordid secrets.”
“You know nothing.”
Dimitri shrugged. “It is true I am confused why you would choose to flee to Cairo.”
“It is none of your damned business.”
The sound of a cart rattling down the dirt road filled the carriage as Dimitri considered the various possibilities.
Egypt was a convenient country to disappear in.
So long as a man had money he could live in comfortable seclusion. Still, he could not imagine the fastidious Count Nevskaya choosing to live among the savages.
He regarded his father with a frown. “Did you hope that Valik would take you in like a poor stray?”
“Those females belong to me.”
Of course. How had he been so stupid?
“You were hoping to locate your servant so you could auction the girls and claim the full profit before you attempted to disappear.” He shook his head in sheer revulsion. “Where did you hope to go once you had your money? The Indies? America?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I do not suppose it does.” Dimitri breathed in deeply, reminding himself the girls were safely out of the reach of this vile creature. “Not after I managed to ruin your scheme yet again,” he taunted, his voice thick. “How very frustrating it must be for you to be constantly outwitted by your bastard son.”
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