Sweet Revenge

by Christy Reece

  Just off the kitchen was a small dining room with an oak table and a large picture window that looked out onto the back. She peeked out and spotted Dylan driving her Jeep into the garage. That act struck her as kind and gentlemanly—completely incongruent with his attitude toward her.

  Shaking her head at the man’s oddities, she continued her exploration. The living room had a large rock fireplace, with a luscious-looking, colorful rug in front of it. If she were here for pleasure, she’d love to lie in front of a blazing fire and sip hot chocolate.

  The furniture was sturdy, with two oversized leather sofas and several comfy-looking recliners. The high ceiling, with exposed beams, made the entire area seem huge but still cozy.

  Knowing Dylan might come back anytime, she hurriedly peeked into his bedroom, unsurprised to see his bed neatly made and minimal evidence that the room was even occupied.

  She closed the door and turned to her bedroom, across the hallway. A hot shower after getting so sweaty would be heavenly. Closing her door, Jamie stripped and headed to the bathroom. Her cellphone buzzed just as she passed the nightstand where she’d placed it and the charger.

  She grabbed the phone, knowing that it could be only one person: her sister. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. Are you there yet?”

  Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, grateful for the good heating and insulation in the room. “Yes, got here a couple of hours ago. I’ve already been on a short tour outside and had a physical.”

  McKenna made a sound between a snort and a snicker. “Dylan gave you a physical?”

  “Just my pulse and blood pressure. Nothing invasive. He said everyone had to go through something similar.”

  “Is that right?” McKenna’s amusement was obvious.

  “You didn’t?”

  “Well, no, but to be fair, I was already trained and working ops for LCR before Noah officially hired me.”

  That seemed like a reasonable and simple explanation. However, with Dylan, nothing was ever simple.

  “Is he always so irritating and confrontational?” Jamie asked.

  “Actually, no, he’s one of the more easygoing of us. The confrontational part comes with the territory, though.”

  So he was just being irritable for her sake, trying to get her to quit. Well, that wasn’t going to work. Dylan Savage was about to find out just how tough Jamie Kendrick could be. And she’d learn to deal with the confrontational part.

  “Any news on your front?” Even before she’d started training, she knew that LCR had begun working several angles to get to Reddington.

  “No more than we had before. By the time you’re trained, I’m sure we’ll have more.”

  The stomping of feet at the front door told Jamie that Dylan had returned from his chores. Figuring he’d have a new assignment for her, she hurried to say goodbye. “I hear Dragon Man coming back in. Gotta go.”

  “Okay, well, don’t kill each other the first day.”

  “I can promise that; maiming is another thing altogether.”

  Jamie closed the phone on her sister’s laughter. The knock on the door shouldn’t have startled her. “Yes?”

  “You ready to go over your training agenda?”

  Suddenly remembering she had meant to take a shower and was still nude, she eyed the doorknob nervously. “Do I have time for a shower?”

  “If you shower every time you get sweaty, you’re going to be showering every few hours. Put on some dry clothes and let’s get started.”

  Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at the closed door, Jamie grabbed another pair of sweats and some underwear. The fact that what he said made sense didn’t help. She wasn’t here to smell fresh and clean as a daisy; she was here to work. Besides, Dylan was so damn blunt, if her odor offended him, she was sure he’d let her know.

  Halfway dressed, she swallowed a small yelp when he pounded on the door again. “You about ready?”

  Muttering obscenities, she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, finger-combed her hair, and pulled it up into a ponytail. Grimacing at the unattractive, frazzled girl in the mirror, Jamie headed to the door. This man would not defeat her.

  An hour later, she wasn’t feeling quite as confident. When Dylan handed her the one-page sheet, her alarm grew with each line she read. She had expected the regimen to be difficult, not impossible. “I have to be able to do all of this before my self-defense training begins?”

  Without glancing up from the wicked-looking gun he was cleaning, he answered with a nod and a grunt.

  Jamie stared back down at the list. In her best shape, she would never have been able to perform half of these: thirty push-ups, seventy-five sit-ups, ten chin-ups, and an eight-minute mile.

  “Why do I have to be able to do all of this?”

  “Because if you’re not at least at the minimum required fitness level, you’ll never be able to complete the final exam.”

  “Final exam?”

  “Yeah. You don’t leave here until you pass.”

  She shook her head. “Noah never mentioned—”

  “Noah’s not your trainer … I am.”

  Biting back a sarcastic reply, she asked, “What does the final exam consist of?”

  He shrugged. “Just one thing.”

  “And that is …?”

  He raised his head and looked directly at her. His expression was characteristically blank, but his eyes held a dead seriousness. “Bringing me down.”

  four

  Madrid, Spain

  The thousand-dollar Gurkha cigar puffed like a chimney from his mouth; Stanford Reddington sat in his leather recliner and observed the new merchandise. As each item was hauled out of the darkened storage room, in mere seconds his experienced eye evaluated it with the expert precision of a true connoisseur of human flesh.

  He was going to miss this aspect of his business. Every other Tuesday, for the past six years, had been market day. Deciding which newly acquired piece of merchandise would go where was a tradition he’d only begun to train his son in when the shit had hit the fan. And now, because of one little bitch, he had to put his profitable business on hold until things settled down.

  Why the hell hadn’t he killed her when he’d had the chance? Second-guessing himself wasn’t something he did often. Usually when he made a decision, he knew it was the right one. But how was he supposed to know that a piece of merchandise he’d picked up on a whim would end up costing him so much? Hell, she’d been so bruised and battered, he’d seen himself as doing her a favor. No one else would’ve touched the bitch.

  Who could’ve known that Jamie Kendrick was not only the sister-in-law of one of the wealthiest men in the world, but that she’d be rescued by Last Chance Rescue, an organization that could bring his entire financial kingdom down if it had its way?

  Between the legal maneuvers from Lucas Kane’s attorneys and the concern that Last Chance Rescue would try to infiltrate his organization, he could now trust only his closest associates. LCR had a reputation for destroying flesh-trading organizations. He refused to get caught in its net.

  Able to compartmentalize between business woes and business at hand, Stanford gestured with his head toward the line of females. “Tell the third one from the right to stand up straighter.”

  He waited while Armando went over and whispered something in the girl’s ear. Whatever he said worked like a charm. The skinny, slumped-over girl straightened her shoulders immediately, her previously sullen expression turning to wild-eyed terror. He nodded his approval as the man returned to stand beside him. Taking another puff of his cigar, Stanford reflected on what a treasure his employee was … he always knew the right words.

  Dissatisfaction grew within him as he continued to study the merchandise. This was one of the worst batches they’d had in years. And to think he wouldn’t be having any more for a while. It sickened him to think of all the prime flesh he was going to miss. “Where the hell did you come up with these skanks?”

  Armando
shrugged his brawny shoulders. “You told us to stay low-key for this last shipment. We got the ones no one will miss.”

  Dammit. Yet another reason he’d like to have those LCR idiots strung up by their balls. The demand was high for young, nubile girls, but there were risks involved. Risks he couldn’t take until the heat was off his ass.

  Making the decision quickly, Stanford said, “Dispose of one, two, four, five, and six as domestics. Take nothing less than a thousand for each. What’s the story behind three and seven?”

  “We got the blonde from a middle-aged couple in Lima. They’ve used her as a sexual third for the past couple of years but want to go younger. I told them we’d give them a deal on their next purchase.”

  “Better not make it too good of a deal. This one looks like she’s seen and done it all a few thousand times.”

  “She’s still got some juice in her.” The man smiled smugly. “I got a sample on the way home. Girl’s got some damn fine skills.”

  “She using?”

  “No drugs and they swear she’s never even touched alcohol.”

  “Clean her up and send her to me tonight. Now tell me about number three.”

  “Found her outside Barcelona … mother was selling her for a fix.”

  Knowing that the man never left loose ends, Stanford asked, “And the mother is …?”

  “She got more than the fix she wanted. She never made it home.”

  Taking one last puff of his treasured cigar, Stanford ground it out in the dish beside him and stood. “If I’m pleased with the blonde, I think the Goddess House could use her.”

  “And the kid?” Armando asked hopefully.

  More than aware of Armando’s secret cravings, Stanford eyed the sad, homely-looking child. “How old is she?”

  “Her mother said she was sixteen.”

  Stanford snorted. “She’s not a day over ten. Otherwise you wouldn’t be nearly as interested.”

  The other man’s eyes skittered away guiltily. Stanford knew his friend fought his sickness daily, which was one of the reasons he allowed him to sample as much of the adult merchandise as he wanted. The fact that he’d brought the girl here instead of taking her for himself showed Armando’s strength of will.

  “Take her to the orphanage and drop her off.”

  Though his mouth tightened in disappointment, the other man nodded. “Very well.”

  “I’m going home tomorrow; I’ll stay there until I feel it’s safe to resume business. Once you’ve made arrangements for everyone, feel free to join me for a few days.”

  They both knew it was not an invitation but an order. Stanford enjoyed his power over people. He no longer gave orders. What he said, in any manner he wanted to say it, would be done.

  “I’ll be there in a couple of days.”

  “And your family …?”

  Another tight-mouthed look and then a nod. “They’ll be there as well.”

  “Excellent.”

  Stanford received no small amount of satisfaction from encouraging family time for his employees. His own family sustained him. Except for his elder son, they knew nothing of his businesses, legitimate or otherwise. That was the way it should always be … the way his own father had taught him and the way he would teach his son. When he’d started training Lancelot, the kid had stared wide-eyed as Stanford explained his legacy. But there had been the gleam of excitement in his eyes. An excitement Stanford still felt even after all these years.

  Only now all of that was on hold. His son, the light of his life, had been sent away. Protecting him from all the nastiness of the investigation had been of utmost importance. How long would Lance have to be away? How long would Stanford have to curtail his business practices? It was hard to say. One thing he knew for sure: if he ever had the chance to repay Jamie Kendrick for all the trouble she had caused him, she’d be begging for mercy days before he put her out of her misery.

  West Virginia mountains

  Feet going at a good clip on the treadmill, impatience in her voice evident, she shouted, “How much longer am I going to have to work out like a demon before I learn anything?”

  Not bothering to lift his head from the magazine he was reading, Dylan asked, “You’ve not learned anything in the two weeks we’ve been training? I’m crushed.”

  “I’ve learned that you’re an ass.”

  His mouth twitched only slightly. “Took you two weeks to figure that out? You’re slower than I thought you were.”

  For once ignoring his baiting comment, she asked, “When do we start the self-defense training?”

  “When I say so.”

  He heard the slap of her hand as she slammed it against the treadmill to stop it. Another smile that he couldn’t allow tugged at his mouth. She would think his amusement was because of her frustration at him. However, it was the result of her frustration that he found amusing. For someone who looked like a spun-sugar fairy, Jamie Kendrick, he was learning, had a toughness he’d never anticipated. He could help her achieve a higher level of physical fitness and teach her self-defense skills, but Jamie had something that couldn’t be taught. She had an innate determination and resiliency.

  Each day, he put her through intense and grueling workouts. At night, she watched training videos, and during dinner, they discussed them. She was physically stronger than she’d been when she’d first arrived. Not only did she have a healthy glow, she’d gained muscle and a couple of pounds. She’d been soft and too slender before; now her body was becoming toned and tight, and the inevitable one-on-one training was going to have to begin. At that thought, his amusement disappeared.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  Lowering the magazine, he glowered. “Just what I said. When I say so.”

  He watched warily as she jumped down from the treadmill and headed toward him. Since the day she’d arrived, he hadn’t been within two feet of her. Looked like that was about to change.

  “Do you want me to die?”

  “Now, why the hell would you ask that?”

  “Because if I leave here without learning what I need to, I won’t be able to defend myself if something goes wrong. Can you live with that on your conscience?”

  Dylan got slowly to his feet. “Let’s get two things straight. First, unless you storm out of here like a two-year-old, when you do finally leave, you will know how to defend yourself. Second, if you think I’d feel guilty for you getting yourself killed, then you’re sadly mistaken. If you die, that will be your fault, not mine.”

  “Then when are you going to teach me?”

  “You think you’re ready?”

  “I’ve been ready.”

  “Then turn around.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Let’s see if you’re as ready as you think you are. Turn around.”

  As she stumbled awkwardly around, showing him her back, Dylan gritted his teeth. He had known this day was coming but had somehow hoped that when it did, his attraction to her would have burned itself out from lack of fuel. Unfortunately, this kind of desire required no fuel and no encouragement from her. It was just there, like a never-ending and hopeless entity.

  Dammit, he had agreed to this job, and no matter how physically painful it would be to touch her, it’d be a million times more painful if something happened to her because she wasn’t trained. Yeah, he’d lied about that. Not his first lie, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be his last.

  Jamie almost stopped breathing in anticipation of Dylan’s touch. For two whole weeks he’d done nothing but growl out orders or tell her when she was doing something wrong. How the hell she could want him even within touching distance was a mystery to her, but her entire body felt alive, tingling with excitement, at the thought of his hands on her.

  A hard hand wrenched at her shoulder, pulling her around. Jamie forgot who was behind her, forgot that she was in the middle of a training exercise. She only knew that the hand felt like a threat. Whirling around, she threw her hand up, bu
t it was caught and twisted behind her back. Panting and close to panic, she found herself slammed up against a rock-solid chest. A chest that held a heart that was thudding almost as hard as hers.

  She jerked to pull away and couldn’t. She spoke against his chest, her voice muffled: “Okay, you made your point. Let me go.”

  “Like hell I’ll let you go,” Dylan growled above her. “Get out of the hold.”

  She jerked again. His hold was just as firm as before. “Dammit, how am I—”

  “Calm down, Jamie, and think.”

  Determined to stop panicking and prove that she could do this, Jamie took a steadying breath. The DVDs she’d been watching for the last few nights … they’d showed step-by-step how to get out of these kinds of holds. Do it, Jamie!

  With her arms locked at her sides, her only recourse was to use her legs. Lifting one leg, she kneed toward Dylan’s groin, but he quickly blocked her. Grunting her frustration, fury lending her skills she didn’t yet have, she stomped her foot on top of his, kicked his shin, and then, when he shifted back, she kneed him hard in the groin.

  Hissing a curse, Dylan dropped his arms and backed into the chair he’d just left.

  Horrified at the pain on his face, Jamie went to her knees in front of him. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

  Instead of growling at her or retaliating, Dylan did something she’d never thought would happen. He burst out laughing as he pulled her into his arms and then did the most astonishing thing of all—he dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. And though he released her before she could even consider responding, she felt the touch throughout her body.

  Scooting away slightly, she said again, “So you’re okay?”

  The twist of his mouth was more of a grimace than a smile. “Not the first time I got kicked in the balls … won’t be the last. Gotta say, though, you surprised me.”

  Delighted, she said, “I did?”

  “Yeah, I thought you’d stomp on my other foot or try to use your head against my throat.” He blew out a breath, and then he did that amazing thing with his mouth again … he smiled. “I’m proud of you, Jamie.”