Sweet Revenge

by Christy Reece

  Her steps light and quick behind him, Jamie asked, “Want me to start dinner?”

  The last few days, they’d been sharing kitchen duties. Being in the too small room, with Jamie brushing up against him every so often, wasn’t a torture he was willing to put himself through tonight. Dylan nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Before she could say anything else, he closed the door to his bedroom, shutting himself inside and away from the biggest temptation of his life.

  Jamie woke the next morning only a little sore from the previous day’s workout but a lot confused about Dylan. During dinner, he’d uttered exactly three words: “Pass the salt.”

  Once they’d finished her hastily prepared beef stew and corn bread, he had insisted on cleaning up, since she’d made dinner. She didn’t even think about protesting. Trying to carry on a conversation with a man who obviously had no desire to talk was exhausting. She’d said a quiet good night and had done what he’d suggested earlier—taken a hot bath and gone to bed. And she had slept almost dreamlessly. In the middle of the night, she’d woken with her body on fire and an ache between her legs. She had a vague recollection of Dylan lying on top of her, kissing her as he moved inside her. A sex dream about Dylan? She shook her head at not only the insanity but also hopelessness of it all. That was never going to happen.

  Stretching carefully, she noted that she was glad she had followed Dylan’s advice. There was a small amount of tightness in her muscles, but nothing painful. A hot shower should take care of that, and then she’d be ready to try those moves again.

  A glance at the bedside clock told her she had at least another hour before her normal routine had to begin. Since she’d gone to bed earlier than usual, she’d woken early. The thought of practicing without Dylan’s critical eagle eye was too tempting to pass up. Wouldn’t he be surprised if he walked in and found she’d finally managed to master the move?

  With that incentive, Jamie bounded out of bed and took a quick shower. Though she would have liked to stand under the pounding hot water much longer, she couldn’t. Getting to the gym before Dylan arrived was her biggest priority right now. Drying hurriedly, Jamie brushed her teeth, slapped some moisturizer on her face, pulled her damp hair into its usual ponytail, and then slid into sleek spandex pants and a T-shirt.

  She opened her bedroom door and stuck her head out. Relieved that Dylan’s door was still closed, she decided to forgo coffee and headed down the steps to the gym. She was at the bottom step before she realized that the room was already occupied. Her disappointment at not being able to practice quickly disappeared. Her legs collapsed silently beneath her and she quietly dropped to the bottom step … in awe.

  His handsome face one of concentrated intensity, Dylan went through a series of slow, graceful movements. He wore only a pair of old khakis; a fine sheen of perspiration covered his skin. Jamie swallowed hard. This was the first time she’d seen him without a shirt. To describe a man as beautiful seemed odd—especially when Dylan was so incredibly masculine—but “beautiful” was the first word that came to her mind.

  He was so tanned and smooth; his skin looked like bronzed silk. Yesterday, she’d felt those hard arms around her, but she hadn’t been able to appreciate how muscular and well defined they were. His broad chest had a slight sprinkling of hair that traveled down his long torso and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Jamie watched a drop of sweat roll from that beautiful chest, down his hard, flat stomach. Her mouth watered, and a strange sensation went through her entire body.

  She mentally shook her head at the incredulity and oddity of life. Her experiences this last year had left her wondering if she’d ever have the normal sexual desires she’d once had. The dream last night and now the delightful sensations zooming through her dispelled the worry. She had known she was attracted to Dylan, and now she knew it was more than just attraction—she wanted him.

  And this wasn’t just the normal kind of want. She knew what sexual desire felt like, and before she’d learned what a mistake she’d made in her marriage, had experienced sexual fulfillment. This heat and need went beyond the bounds of anything she’d ever known.

  Much too soon, he finished. He had to know she was there, but he didn’t acknowledge her presence as he grabbed a towel from the shelf against the wall and dried off, his back to her.

  Feeling like an interloper but unable to leave and pretend she hadn’t seen him, she broke the silence. “I’ve never seen anyone do tai chi in person.”

  Giving no indication that he’d heard her, Dylan pulled a T-shirt over his head and then guzzled down a bottle of water.

  She waited for several more seconds, but when it was apparent that he was going to ignore her, Jamie got to her feet. If he planned to act as if she didn’t exist, then she’d just get on with her day and pretend he didn’t exist, either.

  Finally he spoke, his tone and words an indication that he’d woken up in his usual state of grumpiness. “What are you doing down here so early?”

  “I thought I might practice the moves you showed me yesterday.”

  “Any muscle soreness?”

  “Not really. I took a hot shower and feel fine.”

  He nodded and headed for the stairs. “I’ll get breakfast ready while you practice.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan saw the expression on her face and heard the soft sigh. Both indicated extreme relief. Hell, who could blame her? When he wasn’t hurling instructions at her, he was grunting one-word answers.

  He’d woken this morning with the clear knowledge that his attitude was going to have to change. She might trust him with her training, but he wanted more—he needed her to trust him enough to tell him what she was hiding. Behaving like a caveman only made her warier.

  Hell of it was, he was damn good at cover-up and subterfuge. He should’ve had her eating out of his hand and telling him her secrets within days. Instead, he’d let his desire get in the way of his job. A damn foolish and stupid thing for him to do. Jamie’s well-being trumped his inconvenient lust to hell and back.

  At the bottom of the stairway, he stopped and turned. “I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

  She gave him a tentative smile, as if she realized that a truce of some kind had been called.

  Dylan stomped up the stairs and headed to his room. Maybe a shower would put him in the agreeable frame of mind he needed. He turned the shower on full blast and stripped down to nothing. Holding his head under the deluge of water, he closed his eyes and prepared himself for the challenge ahead. Not the agreeable part, although being an asshole was a comfortable attitude for him; but that wasn’t the part he dreaded.

  For years, he’d practiced being anyone other than who and what he was. Last Chance Rescue was the perfect fit for him. Not only did he find enormous satisfaction in saving lives; being anyone other than the dirt-poor Ohio boy with the guilt of the world on his shoulders was like being given a new life. Weeks, sometimes months would go by without him remembering the sheer misery of those years. The terror, the beatings, the loneliness … all of those things had molded him into the man he became. And though his grandmother had saved him from a lifetime of abuse—or death—Dylan knew that much of the man he was today had been formed in those early years.

  He’d been on numerous undercover missions. Been everything from a fake hit man to a sleazy pimp. When he’d agreed to take this current assignment, he had known it wouldn’t be easy. Training a new operative could be rewarding or a pain in the ass, depending on the person. But Jamie wasn’t an LCR operative, and never had he encountered an assignment where he had to ferret out secrets from a woman who was … hell, he might as well admit it … so damn lovable.

  Dylan turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Whether he liked the job or not, he had to do it. If Jamie was withholding valuable information, it was irresponsible and selfish of her. And since she’d made it clear yesterday that her plans hadn’t changed, it could also get her killed.

/>   The thought of something happening to her was enough to shut out those whispers from his conscience. He refused to question why he had such a strong need to protect her. No use denying something he had known from the moment he’d carried her out of that house. Jamie was special, and he’d do anything he had to, including lying and abusing her trust, to protect her.

  He tugged on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and, with barely a glance at the mirror for his still wet, tousled hair, headed to the kitchen. Spending any more time on his dread and regrets would get him nowhere. Now he had to concentrate on feeding Jamie the line of bullshit she would need to hear to trust him with her secrets.

  For the first time in a long time, Dylan wondered if he wasn’t more like his trashy, low-life family than he wanted to admit.

  six

  Breathless but triumphant, Jamie stood in front of the mirror and watched herself go through the motions Dylan had shown her yesterday. Though not as smooth and graceful as she wanted it to be, nonetheless, the sequence looked so much better than yesterday’s effort.

  “Lower your right arm a little.”

  She jerked around to find Dylan standing only a few feet from her. Dammit, the man did move like a cat.

  “How long have you been watching?”

  “Not long. Your movements are better, more certain.”

  A compliment from Dylan? A glow glimmered through her body.

  “Come eat breakfast and then we’ll work on another move you can combine with that one.”

  Almost afraid that there was a trick involved, Jamie eyed him suspiciously as she went up the stairs. She was used to Dylan being surly, condescending, and occasionally hateful. And though his attitude might not be called nice by most people’s standards, considering his previous behavior, for Dylan, this was downright friendly.

  Jamie washed up and headed to the kitchen, from which delicious fragrances were emanating. Her stomach rumbled as she sat at the table and admired the mini feast he’d prepared. Scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, and orange juice.

  “Looks delicious.”

  “Figured you’d be hungry. Working out before breakfast always increases my appetite.”

  Jamie knew she was gawking and did nothing to hide it. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  She caught him with his mouth open to take a bite of biscuit; he shoved half the biscuit into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, “What?”

  “You haven’t been this nice to me since you rescued me.”

  Though his face was in its usual shutdown mode, his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Figured we’d get a lot more accomplished if I stopped being an ass.”

  She didn’t bother to point out that behaving this way from the beginning would have been helpful. She was just grateful for the change of heart.

  Digging into her breakfast, Jamie continued to be surprised as Dylan continued to talk.

  “The weather’s supposed to warm up by the end of the week. We should be able to use one of the obstacle courses.”

  Jamie gulped, her appetite suddenly diminished. When she’d first arrived, he’d showed her those courses. As much as she wanted to meet all the challenges he put before her, she couldn’t deny the dread. Climbing over walls, crawling through tunnels, swinging on ropes—those things were completely out of her realm of understanding and knowledge.

  “Don’t look so worried. I won’t time your first couple of tries.”

  Had he thought that information would reassure her? The dread only increased. Of course timing would be involved. From what she could tell, there was little in her training that didn’t include doing it either as fast or as quietly as possible.

  She took a breath and lifted her chin. Fear wasn’t going to stop her. “I look forward to the challenge.”

  Though that damn eyebrow he was so fond of raising shot up, he didn’t comment on what sounded, even to her own ears, like thin bravado.

  Moving her attention back to her meal, Jamie took several more bites. The silence wasn’t the one she’d gotten used to over the last couple of weeks. This was the kind of silence that was bound to be broken. And once again, Dylan didn’t disappoint.

  “What do you know about Reddington you’re not telling us?”

  The question so surprised her, she swallowed a bite of biscuit too soon. Grabbing her orange juice before she choked, she drank half the glass to unclog her throat and then shook her head. “I’ve told Noah everything I know about his operation.”

  “Everything?”

  She’d never realized how penetrating a green-eyed stare could be. Didn’t matter. She had told the truth. All the information she’d gleaned about Reddington and his horrific slave trading had been given to Noah McCall the day after her rescue.

  “Tell me again, then.”

  “What?”

  “Humor me … tell me again.”

  Her lips trembled with the need to say something sarcastic. But this was the most Dylan had talked with her since she’d been here. Creating goodwill by reviewing what she’d learned wasn’t a big deal. She was hiding nothing useful about Reddington. At least, nothing useful for LCR.

  “The first time I heard him, he was discussing a business transaction about a young woman he’d purchased in Seville. He said he wanted her included on the next market day.”

  “And how was it that you heard this?”

  Jamie forced herself to view her memories objectively. Those dark days had been some of the scariest and most humiliating of her life. If she didn’t allow herself to get drawn into the emotions, it was much easier to recall what she’d heard.

  “As you know … since you were the one to find me … I was locked in a room on the third floor. I was handcuffed to the bed most of the time, but when my meals were delivered, I was free to eat, go to the bathroom … whatever. Sometimes hours would go by before they’d remember to come back and lock the cuffs. They weren’t really afraid that I’d try to escape. The only way out was through the door, which was always locked, or through the window. Since I was about thirty feet from the ground, I’m sure they figured I wouldn’t jump.”

  Little had they known that’d she’d contemplated that very thing. The jump would have killed her, but at her lowest point, she had been desperate. But then blessed anger had returned and, with it, the determination that the bastards would not win. If she had jumped out that window, no one would have blinked an eye. She would probably have been thrown into a hole in the woods, and that would have been that.

  Realizing she had gone where she had promised herself she wouldn’t, Jamie took a breath and made herself continue: “One day when I was free and looking for a way out, I found a heating vent on the floor. I managed to pry it open. There was no way I could escape through it, but I could hear voices. That’s when I realized my room was right above Reddington’s office. I heard numerous phone conversations—all one-sided—but he had no regard for what he said. He conducted a lot of business in that office.”

  “And that’s how you learned that he’s into slave trading and human trafficking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he ever suspect that you knew anything?”

  “No. I only saw him a couple of times, and that was in the beginning.”

  “Did he say names, locations, dates?”

  “No names, other than a man’s name—Armando—who I think works for him. He was very open in his conversations with both his son and Armando. The people he sold were discussed as if they were cattle. Sometimes he’d refer to them by number or hair color. I remember he referred to one as ‘the old hag.’ ”

  Dylan nodded. “That’s consistent with what McCall’s sources uncovered. He’s not just into slave trading for sex. He sells humans for every possible market out there for human beings.”

  “I heard him say something about a promising young man he had his eyes on. That was the only time I heard Reddington and his son argue.”

  “What did they argue about?”

  “About this promisi
ng young man. His father said he thought the young man had potential. The son was resistant.”

  “You tell McCall about this?”

  “Of course.”

  “What else did you hear?”

  “Market day is every other Tuesday. He told his son Lance how …” Her breakfast lurched up her throat. How could she have forgotten the one conversation that’d made her throw up the small amount of food she’d ingested the day she’d heard it?

  “What?”

  Though his eyes were as hard as ever, Dylan’s voice had softened noticeably. He knew how hard this was for her. That one kindness helped her to say, “He said that one of the ways Lance could become a prime judge of …” She grimaced. “Sorry, I won’t repeat the word he used.”

  “You don’t have to. Just give me the gist.”

  “Reddington said that once Lance had experimented with me in all the ways he could, he’d have a good idea what to look for.”

  “That didn’t happen, though.”

  Dylan’s words were a statement of fact. And something for which she was exceedingly grateful. No one, other than her therapist, knew what had happened. Having anyone else know the truth would benefit no one.

  She acknowledged his statement with a slight nod, saying, “Thanks to you.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Jamie nodded hesitantly—the fact that he’d asked permission worrisome. She had thought the questions he’d already asked were personal and could have sworn that not by the slightest flicker had she revealed that she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

  “You’ve recovered incredibly well in a short period of time. How did you do that?”

  She knew he didn’t mean physically. The bruises and surface injuries she’d received at the hands of Damon Hughes had healed within a couple of weeks of his attack. No, she knew he meant, How did you recover from the terror and fear that accompany a brutal assault?

  “I don’t think I have an easy answer to that. I thank God every day that I can’t remember Hughes’s attack. The doctors called it selective amnesia. Said I might never remember anything about it, which is exactly what I want. I remember being held in his house and how terrified I was, but the actual attack is a complete blank.” She shrugged and added, “And maybe the fact that he’s dead helped in some way.”