Hot ice - By Nora Roberts Page 0,34

him laugh before. He’d heard him give that same mild, pleasant laugh as he’d seared the bottom of a victim’s feet with blue flame from a monogrammed cigarette lighter. Remo didn’t move his arm, nor did he open his mouth.

“Lord’s been a dead man since he stole from me.” Something vile slipped into Dimitri’s voice. It wasn’t anger, but more power, cool and dispassionate. A snake doesn’t always spew venom in fury. “Get my property back, then kill him however you please. Bring me his ears.”

Remo gestured for the man in the back seat to get out and purchase tickets. “And the woman?”

There was another stream of tobacco smoke as Dimitri thought it through. He’d learned years before that decisions made rashly leave a jagged trail. He preferred the smooth and the clean. “A lovely woman and clever enough to sever Butrain’s jugular. Damage her as little as possible and bring her back. I’d like to talk with her.”

Satisfied, he sat back, idly watching the train through the smoke glass of the car window. It amused and satisfied him to smell the powdery scent of fear drifting from his employees. Fear, after all, was the most elegant of weapons. He gestured once with his mutilated hand. “A tedious business,” he said when Remo closed the car door. His sigh was delicate while he touched a scented silk handkerchief to his nose. The smell of dust and animal annoyed him. “Drive back to the hotel,” he instructed the silent man at the wheel. “I want a sauna and a massage.”

Whitney positioned herself next to a window and prepared to watch Madagascar roll by. As he had off and on since the previous day, Doug had his face buried in a guidebook.

“There are at least thirty-nine species of lemur in Madagascar and more than eight hundred species of butterflies.”

“Fascinating. I had no idea you were so interested in fauna.”

He looked over the top of the book. “All the snakes are harmless,” he added. “Little things like that are important to me when I’m sleeping in a tent. I always like to know something about the territory. Like the rivers here are full of crocks.”

“I guess that kills the idea of skinny-dipping.”

“We’re bound to run into some of the natives. There are several distinct tribes, and according to this everybody’s friendly.”

“That’s good news. Do you have a projection as to how long it should be before we get to where ‘X’ marks the spot?”

“A week, maybe two.” Leaning back, he lit a cigarette. “How do you say diamond in French?”

“Diamant.” Narrowing her eyes, she studied him. “Did this Dimitri have anything to do with stealing diamonds out of France and smuggling them here?”

Doug smiled at her. She was close, but not close enough. “No. Dimitri’s good, but he didn’t have anything to do with this particular heist.”

“So it is diamonds and they were stolen.”

Doug thought of the papers. “Depends on your point of view.”

“Just a thought,” Whitney began, plucking the cigarette from him for a drag. “But have you ever considered what you’d do if there was nothing there?”

“It’s there.” He blew out smoke and watched her with his clear, green eyes. “It’s there.”

As always she found herself believing him. It was impossible not to. “What are you going to do with your share?”

He stretched his legs onto the seat beside her and grinned. “Wallow in it.”

Reaching in the bag, she plucked out a mango and tossed it to him. “What about Dimitri?”

“Once I have the treasure, he can fry in hell.”

“You’re a cocky sonofabitch, Douglas.”

He bit into the mango. “I’m going to be a rich cocky sonofabitch.”

Interested, she took the mango for a bite of her own. She found it sweet and satisfying. “Being rich’s important?”

“Damn right.”

“Why?”

He shot her a look. “You’re speaking from the comfort of several billion gallons of fudge ripple.”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m interested in your outlook on wealth.”

“When you’re rich and you play the horses and lose, you get ticked off because you lost, not because you blew the rent money.”

“And that’s what it comes down to?”

“Ever worried about where you were going to sleep at night, sugar?”

She took another bite of fruit before handing it back to him. Something in his voice had made her feel foolish. “No.”

She lapsed into silence for a time as the train rumbled on, stopping at stations while people filed on or filed off. It was already hot, almost airless inside. Sweat, fruit, dust, and grime hung heavily. A man

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