When Reddington learned that Giselle and his protégé had left the island, what would he do? From the panicked look on Mrs. Reddington’s face yesterday, Jamie feared the worst. Would he go to the hospital and try to retrieve his daughter immediately? If he did, would Raphael be able to stay out of the way? Jamie had seen how much he cared for the girl. Would he be able to let her go back with her father, knowing he might never see her again?
They still had nothing on Reddington. Each morning at three, while the household slept, she and Raphael had sat at Reddington’s computer and punched in password after password, in the vain hope that they’d get lucky. Yesterday morning, after another failed attempt, they’d both agreed that Reddington’s arrival was a good thing after all. Getting inside his head would be the only way to determine what passwords were needed.
That was up to her now. With Raphael out of the picture, she would need to talk with the man. Easier said than done. With Reddington’s obviously low opinion of women, having him sit down for a conversation with her might well be impossible. Nevertheless, she had to try.
Her attention returned to the pier, and she watched the Reddingtons greet each other. If she’d known nothing about the family, she would have assumed that this was a loving, happy reunion. At first, Reddington honestly seemed exuberant. Jamie could tell the exact moment he learned of Giselle’s accident. Even from this distance, she could see his entire body stiffen. His jerky movements as he spoke to his wife indicated fury. Seconds later, he grabbed his wife’s arm and pushed her forward, toward the house. Poor Amelia watched them leave, and then, dejection in every step, followed behind them.
Knowing that the little girl could use some cheering up, Jamie was about to turn around and go to her student. A movement on the pier stopped her. A tall, muscular man with dark hair and a slow, deliberate stride came into her view. In an instant, her world turned upside down.
Dylan.
Excitement zoomed through her, and her body sang with joy. Her foolish heart didn’t care that he’d stomped and crushed it. For the first time in months, she felt alive. Yes, she was still angry and hurt, but for right now, none of that mattered. Jamie wanted to run down and fling herself into his arms.
Of course, she could do nothing of the kind. Dylan was undercover, and so was she. Both covers had to be maintained if they were going to stay alive and succeed. But she did need to let him know she was here. He was going to be furious, but he’d just have to get over that. They could work together to get what they needed.
For now, she had a job to do. Without apparent care, Reddington had just crushed his daughter’s feelings. The child needed solace and a distraction. Her responsibility as Amelia’s teacher was to find and console the little girl.
Amelia took a siesta every afternoon at two. Since Jamie usually spent that time exploring the island, no one would think twice if the new schoolteacher just happened upon the handsome stranger and started talking to him.
With that plan, Jamie left her room and went in search of her student.
The dinner chime sounded, and Jamie scurried out of her room. Being late for dinner tonight of all nights could not happen. Calling extra attention to herself wasn’t something she wanted.
She’d spent additional time on her appearance tonight, which had caused her to run late. Making sure Reddington didn’t recognize her was important. Equally important was ensuring that Dylan didn’t recognize her, either—at least not yet. Would her disguise stand up to his intense scrutiny?
Her plan to happen upon him during her daily walk had been scrapped by an afternoon thunderstorm. By the time it was over, Amelia was up from her nap, and they had two more hours of lessons before the day ended.
Skidding to a stop at the entrance to the dining room, she took in the people already seating themselves at the long, narrow dinner table. Reddington was at one end, Sarah at the other. Amelia sat close to her mother. Two men she’d never seen sat on either side of Reddington. Dylan sat in the middle. The only empty seat was across from him.
The one saving grace was that the giant chandelier above the table had been dimmed and the candles on the table were the main lights in the room. Everyone’s face was in the shadows.
As she seated herself, Jamie took a small breath to calm her nerves. Tonight was like any other night. She was Karen Jennings, an elementary school teacher, widowed, and slightly awkward in social settings. Her disguise was good, her cover impenetrable. She had nothing to worry about.
Glad that she’d set herself up as being shy, she didn’t feel the need to do anything but eat and offer the occasional smile. She had felt Dylan’s eyes on her several times but hadn’t yet had to meet his gaze. They were on the main course when all eyes turned to her.
“Stanford,” Mrs. Reddington said, her voice unusually husky, “just in the short time Mrs. Jennings has been here, Amelia has read a dozen books.”
Though Sarah was no doubt trying to get him to give some attention to his daughter, Reddington looked at Jamie instead. “And how is your new student behaving?”
Jamie replied truthfully: “Amelia is an intelligent young lady with a vivid imagination.” She smiled at the young girl. “And we’re getting along just fine.”
Reddington shot a look at Amelia, then turned his attention back to Jamie. “She’s going to grow up to be as beautiful as her mother and sister.”
Replying with a snarky comeback was not in her best interest, but Reddington’s comment gave her good insight into what he thought was most important, at least for the women in his family. Though taking the words at face value was her best bet, she refused to outright agree with him. “You have a beautiful family, Mr. Reddington.”
His mouth twisted slightly, as if he realized she didn’t totally appreciate his statement. Jamie knew she needed to be more careful, but intimating that Amelia’s looks were more important than her intelligence or talent went against everything she believed in as a teacher.
“And you like your new permanent residence?”
Again, the way he phrased his words bothered her. Was this a common occurrence with this man—speaking with hidden meaning? Refusing to give any indication of her unease, she said, “The island is lovely.”
Apparently satisfied that he’d paid enough attention to the new employee, Reddington turned his attention to the brutish-looking men beside him. They spoke in low voices, excluding everyone else from the conversation.
Thankful to have the focus of the table off her, Jamie kept her eyes lowered and concentrated on her meal. Unfortunately, the butterflies in her stomach she’d started the evening with had coalesced into one gargantuan creature. Swallowing anything else was impossible, unless she wanted to call more attention to herself by throwing up. How silly to think she could carry on a civil conversation with a man who’d bought her like a farm animal. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t cut out for this undercover stealth.
“Playing with your food never makes it disappear.”
Breath caught in her throat. The slightly amused masculine voice had come from the handsome man across from her. She’d dared look at him only once, but now, she couldn’t ignore him. Jamie raised her eyes and lost all breath. How could she have forgotten how beautiful Dylan was or what he could do to her blood pressure with just one glance from those gorgeous green eyes?
With her heart chugging like a locomotive, she gave him a small, twisted smile. “I guess it would look strange to ask for a doggie bag.”
His mouth twitched with a slight humor. “Especially if you don’t have a dog.”
Two things occurred to her simultaneously: Dylan was trying to ease her obvious discomfort with gentle, humorous banter. And he had absolutely no idea who she was. Jamie didn’t know which one amazed her more. When they’d been together, everything he’d said or done had seemed to be designed to either piss her off or turn her on. This compassionate side startled her. And she couldn’t deny the little tingle of satisfaction that he didn’t recognize her. How
many times had he told her she wouldn’t be able to pull this off? And now he had no idea that the woman he’d made love to only a few months back, with such focused need and heat, sat across the table from him, inside the enemy’s camp.
The triumphant feeling lasted until she reminded herself that, so far, she’d found out nothing useful in this self-assigned undercover mission. And when he learned her identity, the shit would hit the proverbial fan with a giant, snarling splat.
Since there was nothing she could do about his upcoming fury, she made herself concentrate on the here and now. Keeping the conversation light, she said, “No dog, but I have adopted a line of ants on my balcony.”
He cocked his head in curiosity, and Jamie figured the jig was up. Instead, he said, “You don’t have a distinctive accent, but occasionally I hear a midwestern twang. Where are you from?”
Her ability to disguise her voice was something she’d practiced long and hard to perfect. Thank you, Aunt Mavis, for making me take speech and diction lessons.
“You have a good ear, Mr. Wheeler. I spent most of my childhood in Illinois, around the Champaign area. I moved to Chicago to go to school and never left.”
“Until now.”
“Yes.”
Reddington said something to get Dylan’s attention, and he looked away from her. Finally she allowed herself to breathe again. And though she was glad he hadn’t recognized her, she was suddenly deflated. She and Dylan had just had a conversation like any man and woman who’d just met might have. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, she’d seen a spark of attraction in his eyes. So now, not only was she sad because this had been one of the most pleasant conversations she’d ever had with him, she was having jealously pangs—about herself. Could this night get any weirder?
Dylan answered Reddington’s question about deep-sea fishing, aware that it had been asked to turn his attention away from Karen Jennings. Did Reddington not like his hired hands to socialize or was there another reason he wanted to discourage their conversation? Was the woman more to him than just his daughter’s teacher?
The woman didn’t seem Reddington’s type. She was attractive, but in an understated, bland kind of way, almost as if she wanted to blend into the background. Compared to Reddington’s wife, who was exotic and stunningly beautiful, the Jennings woman was like a small, brown sparrow.
Something about the woman drew Dylan to her, though. He liked the intelligence in her voice and her obvious affection for her student. The disquiet she’d felt at Reddington’s comments about his daughter’s potential beauty had been obvious. He saw backbone there. In an odd way, she reminded him of Jamie. Not so much in looks—Jamie was much prettier—but in the way she held herself, turned her head. And the one small smile she’d offered him had reminded him of Jamie’s.
Dylan pulled his thoughts away from Karen Jennings. She wasn’t his concern. He was here to do a job, and the best he could hope for regarding the teacher was that she would have no trouble finding new employment, because soon, her employment here would end.
The exploration of the island this afternoon had been interesting but frustrating. The island was small, maybe about three-quarters of a mile long, and totally secluded. He’d spotted a larger island in the distance, but getting there would require a boat. And that was what he’d found the most frustrating. Finding the files might be a piece of cake compared to the difficulty of getting off the island. So far, his only viable option was hijacking the yacht. As a rule, yachts weren’t the best mode of transportation for a speedy getaway.
Knowing he could do nothing about that until the time came for escape, his mind turned to another worry, this time a major one. Raphael was nowhere to be found. After exploring the island, he’d taken a quick look around the mansion. He’d even located what he thought was probably Reddington’s private office. What he hadn’t found was the kid. Where the hell was he?
And the hell of it was, he couldn’t ask anyone. He wasn’t even supposed to know that Raphael existed. His last hope that the young man was just in another part of the mansion disappeared at dinner. If he was still on the island, he would have attended the dinner.
The thought of something having happened to the intelligent young man who’d been so eager to work for LCR that he’d put his life on the line twice tore at Dylan. The only thing saving Reddington from a severe beating until he came up with Raphael’s location was Dylan’s need to stay undercover. However, before he left here, he would find out about the kid. If Reddington had hurt him, he’d pay.
Her knees weak with relief, Jamie pushed open her bedroom door. Never had she been happier for an evening to end. She had anticipated being uncomfortable. Seeing Reddington up close and personal was something she’d been dreading. Sitting across from Dylan and being someone else had been an additional stress she hadn’t anticipated. And then, before she’d left the table, she had realized a new worry: she had attracted more than one admirer tonight. The thick-necked giant sitting to one side of Reddington had given her a few covert glances during the meal, but when she’d stood to leave the table, the subtlety had disappeared. The look had all but stripped her clothes off and told her exactly what he wanted to do to her. What little food she’d been able to swallow had surged up her throat. She’d whispered a hasty good night and zoomed back to the safety of her room.
A tension headache hammered. Taking off her disguise, swallowing some aspirin, and covering her aching head till morning held great appeal. She couldn’t. Even though Reddington’s presence increased the danger of getting caught, she had to continue to try to get into those files. It was the reason she was here.
Removing her clothes and extra padding, Jamie wiped off her makeup and dressed in her dark sweats. As was her usual routine, she set her alarm for two-fifty A.M. and lay down on the bed. If she was lucky, she’d get in about three hours of sleep before she had to get up. She closed her eyes, wondering groggily if, when this job was over, she’d ever be able to go back to sleeping a full night.
The nightmare attacked without warning.
The house was silent. Had night fallen again? With shutters over the small lone window, she had no idea if the sun blazed outside or if the stars were twinkling. Her whole world had become this room.
She had no idea where she was or what had happened to her. She knew she hurt everywhere and she had a vague sense of violence, but that was all.
How long had she been here? Days? Weeks? She knew she’d been unconscious at some point. Knew that a doctor or some medical professional had examined her, put bandages on cuts, probed her ribs, and said something about bruising. And she’d felt the bruises between her upper thighs. She had a vague sense of who’d caused her pain, but her mind veered away from thinking.
Voices outside the door caught her attention. She twisted her head on the pillow and tried to move her body. For some odd reason, she couldn’t. Why? Forcing her fogged brain to think, she told her arm to move. She wasn’t paralyzed—there was feeling there—but something impeded her movement. Her arm tugged, and she heard a clank against the wood frame of the bed. Restrained. She was handcuffed to a bed.
Her heart thundered; her breathing turned to panting. The pain in her ribs exploded, but she could concentrate on only one thing. She was handcuffed—a prisoner. Who? Why?
The doorknob rattled and light from an open door flooded the dark room. She twisted her head. Two men stood in the doorway. She couldn’t make out their faces. Did she know them? Bright light flashed as someone flipped a switch. Despite the need to see her captors, she closed her eyes against the intense brightness.
“Damn, she’s ugly. Why’d your dad buy you such an ugly bitch?”
“She’s supposed to be good-looking. My dad got her at a bargain since she’s messed up. The doctor said in a week or two, she’ll start looking better.”
“Hell, I hope so.”
“Look at this.”
Jamie had yet to open her eyes, but when a cool breeze hit her body, they popped open.
She looked up at two young men, probably about twenty. They were gazing down at her with the slimiest, most evil expressions she’d ever seen on anyone’s face.
“Damn, you’re right. Once those bruises go away, we’re going to have some fun.”
A hand came out and touched her breast, and for the first time, Jamie realized why she was cold. The sheet that had been covering her had been taken off. She looked down at the hand on her naked breast. Horrified, her eyes went farther. She was completely nude, covered with bruises, and handcuffed to a bed.
She looked up at the two strangers and screamed.
Jamie shot up from the bed and flew across the room to the door. Her hand was on the doorknob before she realized it had been a nightmare. Vivid and all too real, but only a nightmare.
Her breath coming in gasps, she leaned against the wall. Months without even a hint of a nightmare and now, though it had been a mild one, she knew exactly where it had been headed. She checked the clock. Only one-thirty, but she couldn’t lie down again. No way in hell was she inviting more of the same. Other than her therapist, no one knew what had happened during those long, dark days and nights. Damned if she’d give the memories permission to return and wreak their havoc.
Settling into a chair by the window, Jamie concentrated on everything other than the nightmare. And as usual, Dylan came to mind. She’d had a lot of time to think about her time with him. Falling in love with him had been no surprise. She’d been halfway in love with him from the moment she’d met him. She had left the cabin that morning heartbroken and angry, but in retrospect, she’d had no real justification for her anger. Dylan had made it no secret that he intended to get the truth from her. The seduction scene he’d set up the night before she left had infuriated her, until she’d remembered her thoughts before walking into the living room. She’d had seduction plans of her own. Maybe not to get information, but did the reason even matter? She’d been no innocent lamb being taken advantage of by the big bad wolf. Jamie had gone into that room under her own steam, with every intention of having sex with Dylan. To pretend otherwise would be a lie.
Sweet Revenge Page 24