Sweet Revenge

by Christy Reece

  He had a sick suspicion that Reddington had brought him here specifically for Giselle. The question was, why? A test of Raphael’s willpower and loyalty? Or was it something even more sinister? Had he been brought here as a match for Giselle? Was her father choosing him as her future husband? Under ordinary circumstances, he’d say no man would do something like that, but there wasn’t anything ordinary about Reddington. He was so used to manipulating people and controlling his family, choosing his daughter’s future husband probably seemed normal.

  Reddington would be arriving tomorrow, and time was running out for all of them. Not only had he and Jamie come up empty in their search, Raphael had a feeling that the man would be asking questions about his daughter Raphael didn’t want to answer. Would Reddington come out and ask him point-blank to marry Giselle? What if he said no? Would the man let him leave? Alive?

  The crunch of rocks barely gave him a warning before a soft, slender hand touched his shoulder. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  He turned and smiled. “You were so immersed in your book, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Books can always wait.” She sat down beside him and laid her head against his shoulder. “You know I always have time for you.”

  Shifting slightly away so he could look at her, he asked, “What do you want out of life, Giselle?”

  Her eyes flickered briefly away from him before she returned her gaze to his and gave him her sweet smile. “That’s a very weighty question for such a beautiful day.”

  “What do you dream of? Do you ever think about going to college? Having a career? Doing something besides living here and reading about the world? Don’t you want to see it, explore it?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “I used to dream of that every day, but no more.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s no point. My father has made it clear that this is my life. I must accept and enjoy it. I have no other option.”

  This was the first time she’d confided that to him. “Did he say why?”

  She shook her head and looked away, her eyes on the horizon. Even in her profile, he could see the longing. “I learned very early in life not to question my father. I know that he loves me and believes he is doing what he thinks is best.”

  She turned back to him. “That’s why he brought you here.”

  His heart pounded harder. Even though he’d figured that out, albeit too late, hearing her actually confirm his thoughts stunned him. “What do you mean?”

  “Papa married Mama when she was very young. When Papa told me you were coming, I knew his reasons. I was so worried about what you would be like. If you would be mean and nasty. But you were even more than I could have hoped for.”

  Raphael surged to his feet. “I’m not a pet, Giselle. I came here with the intent to learn your father’s business, not find a wife.”

  She got to her feet. “So you feel nothing for me?”

  “I didn’t say that, but I damn well like to make my own decisions. Being led around by my dick is not my idea of a good time.”

  She flinched at his crude language. Any other time, he’d be appalled that he’d dare to speak to her like this, but her confession had blown him to bits. Hell, she was as manipulative as her father, and he’d never even seen it.

  “Tell your father to find you another man.” He turned and started down the path, back to the house. “I’m not for sale.”

  “Raphael … wait! Please! I’m sorry!”

  Fury, humiliation, and a deep crushing hurt forced his body forward. There was nothing she could say that would make this any better. The best thing he could do was find a way off the island. Now, if only—

  Giselle screamed and then was silent.

  Raphael turned around. She was no longer there. Where had she … God. No! With his heart thundering for a new reason, he rushed to where she’d been standing and looked down. She was about fifteen feet below, on a rocky ledge. Facedown, she wasn’t moving.

  Scrambling down, he reached her in seconds. There was barely enough room for one person on the ledge; squeezing in a second was almost impossible. Standing on the edge, he whispered, “Giselle?”

  “Raphael,” she whispered back, “I’m hurt.”

  The relief he felt as he heard her speak almost made him tip over. He’d thought she was dead. Still unable to see her face, he asked, “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere, but mostly my right leg.”

  “Stay still. I’m going to see if you have any broken bones.” Running his hands up and down her slender body, he felt no protrusions until he reached her right leg. It was broken in at least two places.

  He looked up from where she’d fallen. The distance seemed insurmountable, yet he had no choice but to carry her up. “I’m going to turn you onto your back and then put you on my shoulder. It’s going to hurt, but it’s the only way I can get you up.”

  “Okay.”

  The trusting tone in that one word almost made him cry. He’d caused all of this by his cruelty. Easing her over, he noted that she had two bloody scratches on her face and her arm was bleeding. She hissed in pain, and his heart wrenched. He would soon be causing her even more pain.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try my best not to hurt you.”

  Though tears glinted in her eyes, she gave him a shaky smile, and it was all Raphael could do not to kiss her. Lifting her gently, he put her over his shoulder. “Okay?”

  “Yes. It’s fine.”

  “Okay, here we go, querida. Nice and easy.”

  She whimpered just twice as he climbed his way up the craggy rock. He knew she was probably being quiet for his benefit, but he almost wished she were screaming and spitting mad at him. Instead she was suffering in silence.

  Finally on level ground, he eased her off his shoulder, sat her on a rock, and squatted down to look up at her. “How are you?”

  Biting her lip, she shook her head in reply. Tears streamed down her face, which was almost ghost white … she could very well go into shock if he didn’t get help soon. Standing, Raphael lifted her into his arms and started running toward the mansion.

  Jamie was on the patio with Amelia when she heard Raphael shout for help. She jumped up and peered over the shrubbery. The instant she saw him with Giselle in his arms, she looked down at Amelia. “Sweetie, would you run upstairs and see if your mother can come down for a minute? And then why don’t you read a few chapters in your new book.”

  Her eyes wide, Amelia nodded and took off. The instant she disappeared, Jamie ran down the steps of the patio toward Raphael. Reaching them in seconds, she asked, “What happened?”

  “She fell. Her leg’s broken.”

  The pain on Giselle’s face was reflected in Raphael’s. Since she couldn’t help him carry her, she ran beside them, whispering encouragement to Giselle.

  They reached the patio just as Sarah Reddington came through the door. “Giselle!”

  Raphael placed the girl on a lounge chair. His breathing labored, he said, “We need to get her to a hospital.”

  Sarah was on her knees beside her daughter. When she heard Raphael’s words, she looked up at him, panic on her face. “But she can’t leave.”

  Touching the woman’s arm gently, Jamie said, “She has to, Sarah. She needs medical attention.”

  “I’ll get Joseph. He has first aid training. I’m sure—”

  Horrified but knowing that showing it wouldn’t help the situation, she took the older woman’s hand. “First aid training isn’t going to be enough. She might need surgery. She has to go to a hospital.”

  Visibly collecting herself, Sarah nodded and stood. “You’re right. I just …” Another panicked look and then: “There’s a boat, beneath the pool house floor. Stanford said for emergencies only.”

  Jamie nodded. “This definitely qualifies.”

  With the decision made, Sarah went into action. “I’ll get Joseph to help you carry her, Raphael.” She disappeared into the house,
and within minutes she returned with Joseph. His cold eyes questioning, he examined Giselle’s leg. Then standing, his face even harder, he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  While Joseph and Raphael carried Giselle to the pool house, Jamie ran upstairs to pack a small overnight bag for her, assuming that Sarah Reddington would be packing her own bag.

  Unsurprised that she couldn’t find a suitcase in the girl’s room, Jamie ran to her own bedroom and grabbed one of her small duffel bags. Shoving Giselle’s clothes, shoes, and toiletries inside, she zipped it up and raced down the stairs.

  When she got to the pier, Giselle was lying on a wooden bench, her head in her mother’s lap. Jamie dropped the bag beside them and then, as nonchalantly as possible, walked over and peeked into the pool house. Her heart thudded in excitement as she watched Joseph produce a shiny black speedboat from beneath the floor. The instant he started it up, Jamie stepped away.

  Seconds later, the boat appeared beside the pier. Raphael stepped down into it and spoke with Joseph, their voices low and serious.

  Jamie stooped down beside Giselle, who was white-faced from the pain. She gave the girl an encouraging smile and then looked up at Sarah Reddington. “I’ll make sure Amelia and Eric are fine. I—”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m not going.”

  Hiding her surprise was impossible. “But you’ll need to give permission if she needs surgery. I can take care of the children until—”

  The woman shook her head emphatically. “No, I can’t leave. Raphael has my permission to tell them he’s her husband. He can sign for anything that needs to be done.”

  Though stunned at the woman’s decision, Jamie would say no more. As Joseph gently lifted Giselle into his arms and placed her on the cushioned bench on the boat, Jamie turned to catch Raphael’s attention and gave him a telling look. She hoped to heaven he understood what the look meant. She wanted him to get away and stay away. Joseph could handle Giselle’s return to the island; this might be Raphael’s only chance to escape. He had to take it.

  As the boat moved away from the dock, Jamie stood with Sarah and watched it pick up speed and move away.

  “The closest island is La Rosa, about thirty miles away,” Sarah said. “They have a hospital there. Amelia had to have her tonsils removed when she was four. Stanford said they took good care of her … they’ll take good care of Giselle.”

  The admission that Sarah hadn’t been at her four-year-old daughter’s side when she’d had her tonsils removed was probably unintentional. Still, Jamie was unable to keep her mouth shut. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  Her mouth trembling, tears sparkling in her eyes, Sarah shook her head. “I just can’t.” Turning, she began a slow walk toward the house, moving like an elderly woman; her usually energetic and quick steps were now sluggish and halting.

  Jamie’s eyes stayed on Sarah Reddington until the woman disappeared from view. How had she missed the unhappiness and misery of Reddington’s wife? She had thought the woman content with her seclusion and isolation. It had been hard to look at the agony in the older woman’s eyes and not offer some kind of comfort.

  When Jamie had arrived here, she’d thought she would be the only person on the island hiding behind a façade. Now, seeing Sarah Reddington’s pain, she began to wonder how many more secrets the Reddingtons were keeping.

  twenty

  Twenty hours after they started their journey, Reddington’s yacht docked at his private island. Dylan stood on the deck and watched their destination come closer. LCR’s theory had been right: Reddington’s hideaway was in the Canary Islands. He hadn’t been sure until a couple of hours ago. Hell, they’d been on a plane, a speedboat, and a yacht. Much of his travel time, he’d been inside. Fortunately, he’d managed to walk outside at the right time and had recognized an island he knew all too well. A few years back, he’d had a harrowing mission in Tenerife. Seeing that familiar terrain in the distance, Dylan had felt a small measure of relief that he at least knew their approximate location.

  Now that they had arrived, he realized their travel time had been extended considerably and much of the route had been a diversionary tactic. One of the many ways Reddington made sure he was never followed. And though Dylan didn’t know for sure, he could almost bet that the man changed his routes every so often to ensure his location could never be pinpointed. Wily bastard.

  Reddington had made himself scarce on the trip, apparently spending most of his time in his suite. About an hour before arrival, he’d asked to see Dylan. After offering him a drink, which Dylan declined, the man gave him a final warning about his family and some interesting news: “I keep my personal life and my business life separate. On my island, my family is protected from the world and all its evil. I intend to keep it that way.”

  Dylan issued his usual nod and blank stare. The fact that Reddington wanted to protect his family from evil when the man himself personified the concept was laughable. And unless the Reddingtons lived without computers, television, or any kind of news medium, they had to know what he’d been accused of last year. Of course, he’d been able to buy his way out of trouble, so convincing his loving family that he was innocent should have been no problem.

  Reddington continued: “My wife’s birthday is in a few days, and tomorrow a special gift is being delivered to her. My son has been away for several months, but he’s flying in just for her party. While he’s here, I’d like you to spend some time with him.”

  Oh, hell yeah, he wanted to spend some time with the bastard. Dylan raised his brow in inquiry. “And the reason?”

  “You have natural talent. My father didn’t train me as well as he could have because he relied only on his own expertise. Because of that, it took me years to learn the business. I don’t intend to make the same mistake. I want you to tutor Lance, teaching him what you know.”

  That comment, probably more than any others Reddington had made, surprised Dylan. The man’s ego seemed too large to admit this. On the other hand, making a profit at business was important to him. Apparently that trumped ego.

  “I’m assuming I get some sort of tutoring fee?”

  “Twenty-five thousand and a small additional bonus.”

  “Such as?”

  “At our next auction, you may have your choice of merchandise.”

  “Fifty thousand and two pieces of merchandise.”

  “Two?”

  Dylan nodded. “Fine. Two it is.”

  That had ended the conversation, and Dylan had been allowed to leave. Now, as he leaned against the railing and waited for the yacht to dock, he watched a handful of people gather on the pier. He saw a dark-haired woman standing with two young children and assumed they were Reddington’s family.

  Other than the illegal and sleazy side, LCR knew little about the Reddington’s life. His marriage license and his children’s birth records, normal documentation, had been covered and buried so well, the man could have dozens of children and they’d never know. Lance Reddington was the only one they were sure about.

  The woman holding a small child waved, and the other child, a little girl, jumped up and down excitedly. A nice homecoming for any man, and one this man definitely didn’t deserve.

  As soon as the walkway was lowered, Reddington stepped onto the pier and wrapped his arms around his wife. Then he turned and picked up the little girl and swung her around. She squealed with glee, just like any young child delighted to see her father. Poor kid was soon going to have her whole world torn apart.

  Stepping out onto the dock, Dylan stood at a respectful distance. Though he couldn’t hear the words, Reddington and his wife were whispering furiously with each other. In an abrupt move, Reddington grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her down the pier, toward the large mansion on the hillside.

  The crestfallen expression on the little girl’s face made Dylan want to say something to her. He couldn’t, of course. He watched her chin quiver, and then she turned and followed slowly behind her parents.
>
  Dylan’s gaze moved back toward the couple, who were almost running toward the mansion now. Reddington’s hand was still wrapped around his wife’s arm, and the child she held, a little boy of about three, was sobbing. Whatever had set Reddington off must’ve been major. He’d never seen the man behave so erratically.

  “We’d better lie low for a while. Looks like there’s trouble.”

  Dylan kept his eyes on the Reddingtons until they disappeared from view, then glanced down at Armando, who stood beside him. “He looked pissed.”

  “Yeah. Best to stay out of his way till he cools down.”

  “I’m assuming it’s okay if I explore the island?”

  “Just stay away from the mansion and don’t talk to anyone.”

  Dylan nodded and took off. While exploring, he would look for an escape. Getting the records and going back with Reddington would have been the easier method. He couldn’t do that, though. Raphael would be leaving with him, which meant they’d need a boat. If the yacht was their only mode of transportation, he’d take it, but he’d prefer something smaller and a hell of a lot faster.

  Where was Raphael? The fact that he hadn’t been on the pier to greet Reddington was disturbing. Since Reddington’s wife and kids had been the only ones to greet him, maybe he’d been told to stay away. Wherever he was, Dylan wanted to find him as soon as possible. The kid would have a good knowledge of the island by now. And hell, maybe he’d been able to get to Reddington’s files.

  Tonight, if Raphael didn’t have what they needed, Dylan would explore the mansion, find Reddington’s office, and get the files. This was what they’d been waiting on for months. By tomorrow, if there were no glitches, he’d have what he’d come for, and then he and Raphael would be on their way back to Madrid. By the time Reddington woke up and realized what’d happened, it would be too late.

  That is, if there were no glitches.

  Her hands gripping the railing, Jamie stood on her bedroom’s balcony and looked at the yacht. She had known Reddington was arriving. The dread of his arrival had been softened by the knowledge that at least Raphael was safe. Joseph had returned with the boat last night. He had reported that Giselle’s broken leg had required surgery, but everything had gone fine and she should be released from the hospital in a couple of days.