Scoundrel's Honor (22 page)

It was precisely what Dimitri had hoped to discover when he requested Josef make contacts among the natives of Cairo. After all, a man involved in an illegal trade might do his best to avoid soldiers or those in authority, but he would never notice the thousands of commoners who filled the markets and cafés and public baths. Such people always made the best spies.

“Have you visited the café?”

“I went there earlier to enjoy a small pastry.”

“Did your pastry include any information?”

“Not so much as I would have desired.” Josef's grimace was barely visible in the wash of moonlight. “There were several patrons who recalled a large man, possibly Russian, who briefly visited the café, but he left long before I arrived and no one knew where he was staying.”

Dimitri swore. “So we are still in ignorance.”

“Not entirely. I made a search of the neighbor hood.”

“And?”

“I discovered three brothels within walking distance of the café.”

Dimitri shrugged, not willing to leap to conclusions that might blind him to other possibilities. He had already allowed Anya to slip through his fingers once. It would not happen again.

“The auctions needn't be offered at a brothel. It is quite possible that the girls are being held in a private residence.”

“It is possible, but with the pasha's current disapproval of the slave trade there are fewer citizens willing to risk the citadel's dungeons by being so intimately associated with the traffickers,” Josef reasoned. “If they are hidden in a brothel then all involved could plead to have no knowledge of the auction. Besides, we must begin somewhere.”

“Yes,” Dimitri readily agreed, sensing there was something his companion was keeping from him. “Is that why you intruded on my private evening with Emma?”

Josef discreetly shifted back, a certain indication that he had been indulging his love for daring gambles.

“I made a brief sojourn to each of the brothels to discover the various pleasures offered.”

Anger jolted through Dimitri at the grudging confession. Damn, the obstinate fool. After Josef had risked his neck to bring an end to a foul murderer who had kidnapped the Duchess of Huntley, Dimitri had decided his old friend had
reached an age when his lust for adventure needed to be curtailed. He had brought him to England and then Egypt for his cunning, not to charge recklessly into danger.

“You entered the brothels alone?”

Josef jerked a head toward the nearby harem. “As you just mentioned, you were otherwise occupied.”

“You should have waited until I could accompany you,” he growled. “I did not bring you to Cairo for you to have your throat slit and your body tossed into the Nile.”

“If I desired a mother hen, Tipova, I would find one considerably more attractive than you.”

Dimitri glanced toward the pile of robes that Josef had so recently shed.

“You are hardly in a position to toss about insults.”

The slender man snorted, his lips twitching with amusement. “Do you wish to know what I learned or not?”

Dimitri heaved a sigh. What was the point in chastising the man? Josef had spent a lifetime tossing dice with the devil. It was going to take a more than a lecture from Dimitri to curtail his dance with death.

“I do,” he admitted.

“Two of the brothels were eager to welcome me inside and introduce me to their females. They even allowed me the opportunity to search the establishments.”

“I thought we agreed not to stir unnecessary curiosity?”

A smug smile spread across his face. “I explained that I was seeking a respectable brothel for my wealthy employer and that he suffered a peculiar fear of fleas. What could I do but inspect the rooms?”

“I assume you found nothing?”

“Fleas.”

“Charming.” Dimitri shuddered. He was far too familiar with the filth and squalor to be found in cheap establishments. “And the third brothel?”

“Oddly enough they claimed that they could not accommodate my employer for the next week.”

Dimitri's interest was instantly piqued. “Did they offer an explanation?”

“I was told that there had been a fire in the private chambers and that they were making repairs.”

Dimitri gave a decisive shake of his head. “There is no brothel that would turn away a potential customer even if the place was
still
on fire.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

A thick silence descended as Dimitri glanced down the empty street and then toward the looming palace.

On the other side of the thick walls Emma was no doubt still cursing his name and tossing priceless artifacts at the door, and yet he desired nothing more than to return to her private quarters and drag her into his arms.

But if there were even a slim possibility that he could discover Valik and the innocent females he was holding prisoner then he had no choice but to put aside his personal desires and pursue the bastard. “Damn.”

Josef smirked, seeming to enjoy Dimitri's reluctance to leave Emma.

“If you want to return to the lady I will search the brothel,” he taunted. “At your age you really should avoid situations that demand agility.”

“The traffickers are not the only ones who can toss you into the Nile, my friend.” He pointed down the dark street. “Lead me to the brothel.”

E
MMA WAS INFURIATED.

She told herself that it was Dimitri Tipova's intrusion into Rajih's palace and his brazen seduction that made her long to toss every breakable object in the vast palace. Had she not made it clear the last time they met that she wanted him to leave her in peace? He had no right to force his company on her.

But while she might be in a temper, she was not utterly unreasonable.

If she had truly been disturbed by Dimitri's arrival then surely all she need have done was call for one of the countless servants? Dimitri was a dangerous, even lethal, adversary, but not even he could fend off a half dozen large eunuchs.

Besides which, there was no means to convince herself that the seduction had been anything but mutual.

A shameless excitement jolted through her body. She had wanted Dimitri with such fervor that nothing could have kept her from his arms. And if he had not so rudely abandoned her, then she would no doubt be willing and eager to be seduced again.

And that was the cause of her anger, she ruefully acknowledged.

Not because Dimitri Tipova had intruded into the harem grounds, but because he had left them.

Stepping out of the seraglio that suddenly threatened to smother her, Emma breathed deeply of the perfumed air, glancing up at the sky spattered with twinkling stars.
She was a fool, of course. She had been adamant that she would never forgive Dimitri for his betrayal, and yet, he had only to kiss her for her to toss aside all common sense and melt in his arms.

She shivered, startled by the bittersweet pang of yearning that pierced her heart without warning.

She wished she was home in her shabby cottage.

Perhaps it was not so surprising.

Since her mother's death her life had never been easy. Not only had she faced the duties of the household and caring for Anya, but she had been forced to toss aside her own dreams of a future. But for all her sacrifices, she had never felt as…lost as she did now.

In Yabinsk she knew what each day would bring.

Now she felt as if she were floundering through a blizzard with no notion of where she was headed, or what was awaiting her at the end of the road.

Consumed by her disturbing thoughts, Emma welcomed the soft sound of slippers on the path. Turning her head she watched as the veiled servant hurried toward her.

“There you are, mistress,” the girl said, her voice soft but edged with surprising urgency.

“Samira.” She stepped toward the servant. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes. The caliph is waiting for you.”

“He has returned?”

“He is waiting in a carriage behind the seraglio.”

Emma frowned in confusion, disturbed by the odd chill that crept down her spine.

“I do not understand. Why would he be waiting in a carriage?”

“His message merely said that I was to request you join him.” The woman cast a furtive glance around the garden, as if fearful of being overheard. “Do you wish me to inform him that it is inconvenient?”

“No. I…” She shook her head. There was no reason to be uneasy. Rajih would never harm her. And it might very well be that he had discovered information that could lead them to Anya. “Of course I will join him. Thank you, Samira.”

There was the briefest hesitation before the servant bowed, then she turned to lead Emma through the banks of mimosa.

“This way.”

They traveled through the garden in silence, Emma occasionally glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Dimitri was not lurking among the shadows.

Against her will she wondered where he had gone and why he had left so abruptly.

Had he somehow been alerted to Rajih's return and left before he could be discovered? Or had he simply achieved what he wanted with her and was now seeking fresh entertainment?

She stumbled, shocked by the pain of the thought of Dimitri enjoying the pleasures of another woman.

No. She would not think of Dimitri or the manner he could infuriate her one moment and send her pulse fluttering the next. Not when such a task did nothing but leave her with an aching head.

Far better to concentrate on Rajih and his mysterious request.

Samira paused to unlock the back gate, motioning Emma through with a wave of her hand.

Emma absently smoothed her hands down her robes, acutely aware of her mussed appearance. Would Rajih suspect the reason for her wrinkled robes and flushed cheeks?

Her brief flare of unease was forgotten as she stepped past the high wall of the palace to discover the dark carriage waiting for her.

Another chill trickled down her spine.

Rajih had a stable full of carriages as well as the strange contraptions that were placed atop a camel to ride through the desert. But his vehicles were all sleek and elegant and noticeably expensive.

Nothing at all like the black, bulky carriage that was built for function rather than beauty.

Emma paused, unwilling to deny her prickling sense of alarm. She might not understand the strange premonition plaguing her, but she was not going to ignore it.

She turned on her heel, intending to rush back into the safety of the harem. Instead, she discovered a large man with thick features and small, terrifyingly cold eyes waiting for her.

Her lips parted to scream, but before she could make a sound the stranger had his beefy hand wrapped over her mouth and a heavily muscled arm wrapped around her waist.

“So kind of you to join me, Emma Linley-Kirov,” he muttered in Russian.

Emma's heart froze in fear. The man had to be one of the slave traders. What other Russian would be staying in Cairo and dare to attack a guest of Caliph Rajih?

But how had he found her? And more terrifying, what did he intend to do with her?

As if reading her mind, the brute tightened his arm around her waist, hoisting Emma a few inches off the ground to haul her toward the nearby carriage. Emma struggled, her legs flailing and her arms reaching over her head to yank at her captor's hair.

He ignored her pitiful efforts, easily bundling her into the carriage and forcing her onto the worn leather seat. Then, with an efficiency that spoke of years of practice, he jerked her arms above her head and snapped the steel manacles that were attached to the roof around her wrists.

Once he was certain she was securely imprisoned he took the seat opposite her and gestured to a servant hovering outside the carriage. The door was slammed shut and Emma realized there was no handle on the inside of the door just as the vehicle jerked into motion.

Her heart painfully began palpitating, slamming against her ribs as she accepted she was completely at the mercy of her kidnapper.

Forcing her horrified gaze from the manacles that bit painfully into her flesh, she regarded the man seated across from her.

The sight of him did little to ease her terror.

Not only was he large and thickly muscled, but there was a lack of emotion on his broad face. He was a man obviously accustomed to holding women as his hostages. And no amount of tears or pleading would sway him.

All she could do was pretend a confidence she was far from feeling.

“You will regret this,” she warned.

He appeared remarkably unconcerned. “This is what you have wanted, is it not?”

“It most certainly is not.”

“Then why have you been chasing after me for weeks?”

His mocking words stole any hope that this was nothing more than a terrible misunderstanding.

“You are Valik?”

His small eyes glittered in the faint torchlight that slipped through the barred windows of the carriage as they turned onto a crowded street and slowed to a mere crawl. Emma could hear the chatter from busy cafés and the call of the vendors, but she knew that she might as well have been alone in the world with the man seated across from her.

For now there was no escape.

“Obviously we have no need for introductions.”

“Where is my sister?”

“Have no fear.” A cruel smile touched his lips. “The two of you will soon be reunited.”

Emma ignored the threat, more concerned with Anya's welfare than her own.

“Has she been hurt?”

“She is alive.” He shrugged. “Which is all that concerns me.”

“You—”

“Careful,” he growled, revealing his first hint of emotion. “You don't want to say something you might regret.”

Emma deliberately tilted her chin, sensing the hideous man took pleasure in intimidating women. She would be damned before she gave him the satisfaction.

“You are a fool, you know,” she said tartly. “Lord Sanderson has already made his confession to King George and even now is traveling to Russia to appear before Czar Alexander.”

He regarded her with an unnerving intensity. “Which is why I decided to have you join your precious sister.”

“I do not understand.”

“It is fairly simple, kitten.” He leaned forward, wrapping Emma in the stench of stale vodka and unwashed body. “I might have been born in the gutters, but I've always had a preference for a more luxurious life.”

She wrinkled her nose, wishing his preference included a bath and change of clothing.

“By kidnapping and selling children?”

He settled back in his seat, his leer sliding over her with a repulsive thoroughness.

“It happens to be a career that pays quite well,” he boasted. “Far better than begging for a handful of coins on the frozen streets of Moscow.”

“There are honest professions,” she rasped.

“Not for a bastard serf.” His short laugh echoed through the carriage. “So far as the empire is concerned we have no use but to be conscripted to the army or buried in the mines of Siberia. Neither fate appealed to me.”

Unfortunately, Emma could not argue. Those in Russia who were born into poverty were rarely given the opportunity to better their lives. In truth their existences were often grim, brutal struggles for survival.

“You implied you had a reason for kidnapping me.” She diverted the conversation back to more important matters.

“Beyond the charm of your companionship?” he mocked.

“Yes.”

“You, kitten, are to be my revenge.”

“Revenge?”

The beady eyes flared with shocking hatred. “Dimitri Tipova has ruined my very lucrative arrangement and that's not a thing a man forgets. I had to give thought to a proper punishment.”

Emma's breath caught in her throat. Absurdly, she had never considered the possibility that the demented brute would seek to hurt Dimitri. After all, it didn't take a great deal of intelligence to realize that a man did not rise to be the czar of the criminal world without the ruthless skill to defeat any opponent.

Now she struggled not to allow a wrenching surge of fear to overwhelm her.

“You have no idea what he is capable of,” she warned. “He will destroy you if you do not flee before he discovers you are in Cairo.”

“Oh, I intend to flee,” he drawled. “Once I am certain that Tipova knows that I have stolen his lover and intend to share her with the most depraved men to be found in Egypt.”

She shifted on the seat, her arms aching from being held above her head. Her mind, however, was racing. This horrid man would not be allowed to hurt Dimitri.

The mere thought of him being injured, or worse, was unbearable.

“You are mistaken.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat, forcing herself to meet his malevolent gaze. “I hired Dimitri Tipova to help in my search for Anya, but he is no more than my employee.”

“The Beggar Czar a mere employee?” He snorted in disbelief. “Don't treat me as if I'm an idiot.”

She managed a disdainful sniff. “Obviously he had his own motives for assisting me, but they had nothing to do with being my lover. I am a proper lady.”

“Even a proper lady becomes a tart when given the opportunity.”

Heat stained her cheeks. “You are offensive.”

“And you are a liar.” He reached to grab her chin, his fingers bruising. “I saw the two of you together in that warehouse in London. The man is so besotted with you that he will go stark raving mad at the thought of you being used as a common whore. I might even let my guards have a turn or two. They so rarely get the chance to taste the wares.”

Despite her best intentions, her brittle courage faltered beneath his vile threat.

“Do you have no conscience whatsoever?” she husked.

“None. You would do well to remember that.” The carriage came to a halt and reaching beneath his jacket, Valik pulled out a pistol. With a grim expression he pointed it directly in her face. “We have arrived. I would suggest that you not fight my servant. I prefer to savor my revenge, but I will shoot you if I must.”

“I hope you rot in hell, you monster.”

“Bitch.”

 

T
HE HOUSE WAS BUILT IN
a narrow street and nearly hidden behind the large palm trees. On the front a balcony hung over the street with grilled windows, no doubt used for the girls to lure potential customers. In the back a wooden pavilion was swiftly falling to ruin and a narrow alley was filled with rubbish.

It appeared to be like any other brothel in Cairo if not for the guards posted at every entrance. And, of course, the pack of mangy dogs that had nearly mauled him when he first approached the building. Dimitri had taken refuge on the side terrace, leaving Josef to deal with the savage curs.

Nearly twenty minutes later the wiry servant shimmied up the trellis to join him, his bare feet barely making a sound as he crossed the wooden terrace.

“You disposed of the dogs?” he demanded, his voice a low whisper.

Josef nodded. “The kitchen of the local café was stocked with a nice supply of meat. They were easy enough to lure away.” He gestured toward the narrow window that Dimitri had already used to enter the house and search for the girls. “What did you discover?”