“Maybe getting into a normal routine is what she needs,” Noah said.
McKenna nodded. “That’s what she told me. I just wish she’d wanted to do that here.”
“We’re waiting for her next break, and then we’re going for a visit,” Lucas said.
Though McKenna smiled at her husband, Noah could see the shadows. He had deliberately kept her out of the loop regarding Jamie’s training. Details of missions were shared on a need-to-know basis. Having McKenna know that one of Dylan’s priorities had been to retrieve information from Jamie would not only have been none of her business but would have put a division between the sisters.
McKenna spoke again: “Knowing that she can take care of herself in any situation is a relief, though. And she told me she’s going to continue training.”
Noah nodded. Things might not have ended happily for Dylan, but the man had to be relieved that Jamie could defend herself if she ever found herself at risk again.
“So what’s our strategy now?” Jared asked.
“Dylan’s the only operative we’ve been able to plant. Reddington’s still being extra cautious. We anticipate that Armando’s endorsement will get Savage into his inner fold soon.”
“So we just continue to wait?” Lucas asked.
Noah stood and went to the giant map of the Canary Islands he’d put up after he’d heard from Raphael the first time. “It makes sense that his home is here. There are dozens of small, uninhabited islands. Reddington has the money and clout to own one and hide under mountains of dummy corporations. Angela’s been digging into the records, but there’s still no indication, at least on paper, that he’s there.”
Noah sighed, then continued: “LCR doesn’t have the resources to check every individual island. Our best bet is to wait until Dylan notifies us with a location.” He turned back to the group and said, “So yeah, as much as I don’t like it … we wait.”
“What is the largest city you’ve ever visited?”
Raphael raised his head from the book he was reading and looked over at Giselle. After getting caught peering behind her grandfather’s portrait, he’d had little choice but to distract her as quickly as possible. Explaining that he was straightening the crooked frame, he’d grabbed her arm and told her how glad he was that she’d come into the office. That it was too beautiful of a day to stay cooped up inside. Within seconds, he’d shut down the computer, grabbed his files, and herded her out the door.
That’d been a close call, but it’d been worth it for the most useful piece of information he’d gotten since arriving. There was indeed a wall safe behind the picture. When he was a teenager and living on the streets, he’d learned some questionable skills, including how to break into and hot-wire cars. Too bad he had absolutely no experience opening safes.
Aware that Giselle was eagerly waiting for a reply, he answered, “Probably Mexico City.”
Giselle sighed. “You’ve been to so many places, seen so many things.”
Raphael couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Yes, she had every luxury, but she was like a beautiful caged bird. And though he’d been warned by Reddington to discourage talk of the world outside her island home, he couldn’t help but ask, “Will your father ever allow you to leave?”
Her mouth wobbled slightly before curving up into her inevitable bright smile. “I love my home.”
“I’m sure you do, but there’s a whole world out there to explore.”
She gazed toward the distant horizon with such longing on her lovely face, Raphael instantly regretted bringing up the topic. Though Reddington appeared to be a loving father, putting Giselle in a position to question the man wasn’t smart. If cornered, Reddington would lash out, and Giselle could very well get hurt in the process.
Criticizing Reddington could be dangerous for him, too. If Giselle mentioned their conversation, he could be booted from the island, or worse. Didn’t Noah say they believed Reddington did away with people who didn’t please him?
Quickly changing the subject, he asked, “Where’s Amelia today?”
“Mrs. Jennings, her new teacher, arrived yesterday. They’re going over some lesson plans with Mama.”
Amelia was Giselle’s eight-year-old sister and often their shadow. The news of the arrival of a new teacher wasn’t a surprise. One thing he had to give Reddington credit for—whatever his family seemed to need, the man provided. Giselle had confided that Amelia’s former teacher hadn’t taken the job as seriously as the Reddingtons had hoped. She had been gone when Raphael arrived, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d left the island alive. If Reddington wanted to make sure no one could find him, how did he ensure that when someone left the island they’d keep quiet? A hollow feeling developed in his stomach. Another reason he needed to stay on Reddington’s good side.
“Mama says she’s young but very serious. She recently lost her husband in a car accident and wanted solitude.”
She would definitely get that here. Other than the Reddington family and a dozen or so servants, there was no one else on the island. Did she know that she was likely here for the rest of her life?
“Raphael, will you kiss me?”
Giselle could change subjects with lightning speed. This was one subject he’d been avoiding. Even though Reddington had made it apparent that a match between them would be welcomed, Raphael knew he dare not cross that line. Her heart would be broken when her father went to jail; finding out that her boyfriend had been instrumental in seeing that take place would devastate her further.
He gave her a fond, teasing smile. “You’re too young.”
She snorted delicately. “I’m seventeen. You’re only four years older.”
He felt many years older, not only in experience but in knowledge of the world. Giselle had never even had a boyfriend.
“When you’re eighteen, we’ll kiss.”
“But that’s months away.” Her pretty lips puckered into a sexy pout, and it was all he could do not to lean over and give her what she wanted.
He affectionately tapped her nose with his finger. “It’ll give me something to look forward to.” Glancing at the water, he turned back to her. “Now, are we going sailing or not?”
“I guess.”
Raphael stood and pulled her up to stand beside him. It took every bit of his willpower not to pull her into his arms. Needing to get both their minds off what they couldn’t have, he threw her a grin. “Race you to the dock.”
A delighted smile erased her forlorn expression, and she took off running. Relieved to see her usual exuberance return, Raphael grabbed their towels and loped after her. He hoped that someday he and Giselle would meet under better circumstances, but he had grave doubts that it would ever be possible. The best he could do would be to protect her when her father’s kingdom came tumbling down.
Karen Jennings held back a sympathetic smile at the sullen expression on her new student’s face. Miss Amelia Reddington was not a happy camper. Not only was she apparently missing out on some fun on the beach with her sister and her boyfriend, but having to listen as her mother and new teacher discussed lesson plans and teaching theories was about to put the child into a coma.
She couldn’t blame the girl. More than once, she had suggested to Sarah Reddington that the discussion could wait until tomorrow or could be done without Amelia’s presence. Unfortunately, the woman seemed to be on a roll and had barely acknowledged the suggestion. But Karen had known before coming here that, where her children were concerned, Sarah Reddington had very definite ideas about their education. Having that knowledge had helped secure her the job.
Mrs. Reddington was a beautiful woman with ink-black hair, an olive complexion, and coal-black eyes. Since Karen hadn’t known what to expect, it had been a surprise that the woman was not only lovely but also incredibly young-looking. The Reddingtons had a twenty-one-year-old son, but Sarah Reddington didn’t look like she could be older than her mid- to late thirties.
The older woman’s wa
rm, caring demeanor was disarming, and she had conducted the interview with poise and grace, asking pointed, intelligent questions like a seasoned professional. If Karen hadn’t known what she did about the family, she would have been very impressed.
The interview had taken place on the island. She’d been told to come prepared to stay; if, during the course of the interview, it was decided that she wasn’t right for the job, she would be returned home. Thankfully, she and Amelia’s mother had hit it off, and she’d spent her first night on the island last night.
The island was a marvel. She’d been told almost nothing about where she would be living. She’d thought her explanation of needing to know what clothes to bring might have given her some idea. Instead, the answer had been to bring what she liked. If she needed different clothes, they could be provided. She’d also had to sign a contract saying that she would remain on the island for as long as they deemed she was needed. She’d had no problem making that commitment.
From what she could tell, the Reddingtons had created a tropical paradise that was independent from the surrounding islands—and the rest of the world, for that matter. Before she’d made the commitment for her extended stay, she’d been told that on the island, television was limited to only certain channels, computers were nonexistent and telephones were scarce. She’d asked a few questions to waylay suspicion, but she hadn’t probed deeply. None of those things had mattered.
Though she’d been listening to Mrs. Reddington’s one-woman crusade about the importance of a good education, she interjected a comment when the woman paused for a breath: “I’ve brought several tests with me. I think it’ll give me a more detailed account of where Amelia is in her studies. Would you like to see them?”
“Absolutely.”
Having a good relationship with Mrs. Reddington was important to her employment, but developing a good rapport with her new student was vital. If Amelia resented her new teacher, it would do neither of them any good. With that thought, she said, “Why don’t I go get them and you and I can review them and chat. And then, tomorrow morning, Amelia and I can get to know each other better.”
Out the corner of her eye, she saw a glint of appreciation sparkle in Amelia’s. The little girl turned to her mother. “Can I leave now? Please?”
Sarah Reddington laughed as she looked down at her excited daughter. “Oh, all right. Just don’t get in Giselle and Raphael’s way.”
The cup Karen was holding trembled in her hand. She quickly placed it on the table and stood. “I’ll just go get the tests. Be right back.”
She and Amelia walked out of the room together. Stopping in the hallway, she winked at the dark-haired, sweet-faced child. “See you tomorrow morning.”
Surprising her, Amelia winked back. “Thanks for breaking me out of there. See you tomorrow.”
Karen swallowed a laugh and kept a smile on her face all the way down two hallways, until she reached her room. Once inside, she closed the door, leaned against it, and released a long, shaky breath. Raphael was here? On the island? But why?
Would he recognize her? They’d never met, but she was sure he’d seen photographs of her.
Going to the full-length mirror across the room, she carefully examined her image. Shoulder-length, dark brown hair framed a round, slightly chubby face that went with her chunky body. Thick, black-rimmed glasses slightly obscured her light brown eyes. A mouth, thinned by a skillful application of lipstick, covered slightly protruding teeth. With all of this, along with the careful makeup she applied each morning to make her look older and the mouthpiece she’d had made to subtly change the shape of her face, even she barely recognized herself. No way could someone who’d seen her only in a photograph know her. And Reddington, who’d attended the beginning of her interview, hadn’t recognized her. Although, since he’d barely glanced at her, maybe she shouldn’t be patting herself on the back for that yet.
She took a step away and gave herself an all-over searching look. No, there was no way anyone would recognize her. She was safe.
Satisfied, she pulled out several tests she’d prepared in advance and headed for the door. If she barely recognized herself, how could anyone else know that Jamie Kendrick had finally arrived to fulfill her mission?
fifteen
Madrid
Dylan stood beneath the hot scald of the shower. Even though he knew it wouldn’t help alleviate the filth, it was the only method he had to feel even the slightest amount of cleanliness.
After weeks of living in refuse with sewer rats as his only companions, he was beginning to wonder if, even when the job was over, he’d ever feel clean again. Hell of it was, this wasn’t the worse job he’d ever been on. He’d been working undercover ops for years. Been exposed to the dregs of society. Reddington’s people were scum, but no more so than many others he’d dealt with.
No, the reason he felt the sliminess so deeply this time was personal. These were the men who’d held Jamie. Who’d treated her as if she were some kind of livestock they could buy or sell at a whim.
When the water turned cold, he turned it off and opened the shower curtain. Stepping out, he grabbed a towel and rubbed himself down. Seemed stupid to clean up, considering tonight was going to be shitty. Dylan figured he’d come back to the apartment and shower again after it was over.
For the first time, Armando had asked him to go hunting. When the bastard had posed the question, Dylan had known exactly what he meant. They were going to hunt down and abduct people.
He pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt. As he combed his damp hair, he avoided looking at his eyes, since he knew what he’d see: an emptiness that went straight through his soul.
Turning away from the mirror, he glanced around the dismal, utilitarian apartment. Reddington’s men would probably be back again tonight for another search. Even though he’d been working with them for weeks, they were taking no chances. Though they were careful in their searches, he knew exactly how many times they’d broken in and rifled through everything he owned.
He had nothing to hide and was actually more than happy to have them search as much as they liked. He’d even stacked the odds in his favor with a few porno magazines and a couple of low-budget skin flicks. Anyone looking through his stuff would assume he was as sick and twisted as the rest of the organization.
Tonight’s hunt was new territory for him. Dylan hoped it represented a graduation of sorts. The more Armando trusted him, the more likely he’d be to spill his guts. What Dylan wanted was an invitation to Reddington’s hideaway. Even though it was probably too soon for that intimate a gesture, he planned to make sure that when Armando spoke of him to Reddington, it would be in the most glowing of terms.
Dylan had yet to meet or even get a glimpse of the big man himself. Armando had explained that his boss was taking a lengthy sabbatical but was aware of all business transactions. Unable to ask questions without showing his interest in the man, he’d shrugged and grunted through Armando’s explanation of Reddington’s absence—as if it made no difference to him if he ever met the boss, instead of the truth, which was that meeting the bastard meant more to Dylan than he could ever express.
His only ease in this entire mess was the fact that Jamie was completely out of it. Even though he’d hurt her deeply and damaged any future relationship, friendship or otherwise, knowing she was safe made all the difference. With her safe and thousands of miles from danger, he could do this job, concentrate fully on bringing the pervert down.
When McKenna had told him that Jamie had returned to the States and had found a teaching job, his initial reaction had been a deep stab of guilt. He had hurt her even more than he’d thought. And while he’d known it was inevitable, that hadn’t eased the ache.
He’d heard her leave the cabin that morning. Had actually been on the other side of the door with his hand on the knob, alternately cursing and lecturing himself on his weakness. Even though he’d had no other choice, letting her go had deadened something inside him. S
ince then, he’d been acting on autopilot. Being with Jamie had brought life and light into his world, and the instant she’d left, it had grown dark and still again.
Bringing Reddington to justice wouldn’t garner her forgiveness. That wasn’t what he was expecting. Jamie deserved to have her pound of flesh for what the man had done to her … and his son, too. She hadn’t told him specifically what had happened while she was in captivity, but he knew she’d suffered from the experience. She had said her need to bring Reddington to justice wasn’t out of revenge. Dylan couldn’t say the same. Yeah, the man needed to be stopped for what he’d been doing for years … that went without saying. But the minute he’d rescued Jamie, bringing Reddington down had become his own personal mission. Jamie might not want revenge, but Dylan wanted it for her. And he intended to see that she got it, one way or the other.
Pulling away from his dark thoughts, he grabbed his car keys and leather jacket. Moping about wouldn’t get the job done. With his mind back in auto mode again, he stalked out the door, ready to deal with the devil’s minions in hopes that someday very soon, he’d be dealing with the devil himself.
Dylan took another small swallow of his watered-down beer. The smoke-filled room burned his eyes and seared his lungs as if he held a cigarette in his mouth. How were they supposed to find whatever the hell they were looking for when he could barely make out anyone’s features?
Armando was acting strange, too. The tall, thick man sat beside him at the bar, nursing his beer and barely looking up. This had been the agreed-upon meeting place. Maybe they were going somewhere else.
“I thought we were supposed to be hunting. I can’t see a damn thing in here.”
“Yeah … in a minute.”
Armando’s gruff voice always sounded like he had gravel stuck in his throat. Dylan knew the man could speak fluent English, but when they were alone, he always spoke in his native tongue—an odd dialect that, with his raspy voice, made many of his words come out garbled and unintelligible. Armando’s poor speaking ability was just one of his many unattractive traits. Informants had told them that Reddington insisted that those close to him speak only English in his presence. Dylan figured Armando’s penchant for speaking only Spanish was his small rebellion against his employer’s edict.
Sweet Revenge Page 18