Stanford Reddington and his son seemed to have little in common except, perhaps, morals. They looked nothing alike. Lance was tall and slender, with brown hair and light blue eyes. And where Stanford was always friendly and personable, Lance was belligerent and sarcastic. It had been a huge disappointment to Raphael when he’d heard that Lance and his father weren’t going to prison.
“So Lance is still in Germany?”
“Yes, though I’m hopeful he’ll be able to come home for a visit soon.” Putting the smile back in place, Stanford beamed up at Raphael. “Perhaps he’ll make it home before you have to leave.”
The nod Raphael gave was as noncommittal as he could manage. The invitation hadn’t come with a timeline. How long Reddington intended for him to stay, he didn’t know. But as long as he was here, he planned to make the best use of his time.
Smiling down at the man who seemed to like him a little too much, Raphael said, “That would be wonderful.”
As Reddington led him up a long walkway, Raphael took in the grandeur. Had the man’s legitimate businesses bought him his wealth or was slave trading responsible for all of this?
Stepping onto a tiled patio, Stanford threw his arms out again in an extravagant, grandiose way—something he seemed to do a lot. “Welcome home, Raphael.”
Before Raphael could question Reddington’s strange wording, he heard a sound behind him.
“Papa?”
The musical, feminine voice had both men turning their heads. All the breath left Raphael’s body. The girl was beautiful: tall, slender, with long black hair and large, dark brown eyes. She wore a short yellow dress, revealing smooth golden skin and the longest, sleekest legs Raphael had ever seen.
“Giselle, my love. This is the young man I told you about. Come say hello.”
Dry-mouthed and speechless, Raphael stood rooted to the ground as she came closer.
“Raphael, this is my oldest daughter, Giselle.”
He knew he held out his hand, because he could feel her small, soft hand in his. Words were a different matter. The best he could do was offer her a nod.
Thankfully, she seemed fine with his nonverbal greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Raphael. Papa has talked of nothing but how pleased he is about your coming for a visit.”
With a warm and friendly smile, she waited silently for him to respond. And Raphael would have loved to do just that; unfortunately, he couldn’t get his mouth to work. He wasn’t usually shy or awkward, but this beautiful girl left him speechless.
Apparently realizing that he wasn’t going to speak, she turned to her father. “Mama told me to tell you we’re having lunch on the second-floor terrace today.”
“Excellent. Raphael and I will join you in a moment.”
With one last smile, she glided away from them. There was no way he could make his eyes move away until she disappeared from sight. Even knowing that her father could see his expression, Raphael couldn’t force himself to do the smart or wise thing.
“I see my Giselle has caught your eye.”
Finally words returned to Raphael’s brain. Clearing his throat, he turned to the older man and said, “She’s lovely.”
Instead of looking disturbed that Raphael had practically salivated over his daughter in front of him, Reddington’s face brightened with the broadest, friendliest smile he’d ever seen from the man. “Exactly what I was hoping for.”
With those enigmatic words, he pushed Raphael forward. “Let me show you to your room, and then you can meet the rest of the family.”
Feeling as though the earth had just shifted on its axis, Raphael followed the man inside. What was the real reason Reddington had invited him here?
Last Chance Rescue headquarters
Paris
Raphael had disappeared. It’d been a long time since Noah had been this furious with himself. How the hell could he have agreed to let the young man do this? And now he had no idea where he was or what kind of trouble he was in.
After hearing about Reddington’s invitation, Noah had banked on the man not being suspicious of Raphael. Hell, Reddington was the one who’d reinitiated contact. But the old slave trader had been around too long to take chances, even with people he supposedly trusted.
An LCR operative had been outside Raphael’s apartment when a limo had arrived. According to the operative, Raphael’s cellphone had been dumped into a waste can before they’d even let him inside. The operative had followed the limo to a small airstrip outside Madrid and had even managed to get hold of the flight plan the pilot had filed. They knew the plane had landed at another small airstrip, outside Lisbon, Portugal. They also knew that he’d gotten into another plane, but that’s when contact had been lost. The second pilot hadn’t filed a flight plan, and no amount of digging could turn up where the plane had landed.
Noah had to regroup. Finding Reddington had already been a needle-in-the-haystack, going-nowhere, piece-of-shit investigation. And now this.
“You know, if you continue pacing like that, you’ll wear a hole in the carpet.”
Lucas Kane’s calm voice did nothing to ease Noah’s anger at himself. “There’s got to be a way to find this bastard.”
“Do we know where the son is?” McKenna asked.
“Germany,” Noah answered grimly. “And that’s all we know.”
McKenna jumped up and joined Noah in his pacing. “We’ve got to get to Reddington before Jamie finishes her training.”
“Have you talked with her lately?” Noah asked.
“We talked last night.”
“And she still thinks you’re on board with her plan.”
McKenna’s lips trembled with emotion. “She knows we’re all searching for Reddington. I told her that if we can get to him first, we will.” Her desperate eyes took in Noah’s and Lucas’s. “We’ve got to find him before she tries to do this on her own.”
“And she’s given you no idea how she’s planning on getting to him?”
“None. She just said she had an in that no one else would have.”
“How’s her training going?”
“I can’t speak for Dylan, but she seemed pleased with her progress.”
Noah sat down again and sprawled back in his chair. “She give you any idea of a timeline? I’m assuming that at some point she’s going to say she’s had enough training and just go for it.”
“Two more months.”
“Then our timeline is one month. Let’s find the bastard before Jamie finishes her training and before Reddington gets any idea that Raphael isn’t the puppet he seems.”
nine
West Virginia mountains
Panting lightly, Jamie circled her opponent. The gleaming challenge in Dylan’s eyes told her he was going to be more than ready for whatever she threw at him. Though a master at keeping his thoughts hidden, Dylan occasionally gave off some tells. After several weeks of training with him, she’d learned a few. For just an instant, his eyes flickered to her left hand. He thought she was going to jab with her left and then follow up with a kick. Satisfied that she’d read him correctly, Jamie threw a single kick toward his middle. The next second, she was on her butt looking up at the too handsome, slightly smirking man.
“You got too cocky.”
She snorted and took the hand he held out to help her up. “This coming from the man who could have a PhD in cockiness.”
“That was my goal, but I chose psychology and English instead.”
Jamie showed no excitement and barely any interest in this rare nugget of information he’d just tossed her. She had discovered that if she seemed the least bit inquisitive, Dylan shut down. Not that she’d learned much anyway. She knew he’d grown up around Georgia and Florida, that he’d lived with his grandmother for several years before she’d died, and that his father had killed his mother. That wasn’t a lot, but it was more than she’d known before. And despite the man’s irritating grumpiness and gruffness, he still managed to fascinate her.
Sh
e grabbed a bottle of water she’d placed on the floor beside the mat and took a long swallow. Replacing the cap, she put the bottle down and said casually, “I went to a small college outside Baton Rouge, but my dream university was Tulane. Where’d you go?”
“University of Georgia for my undergrad and then Florida State for my master’s.”
“Master’s in psychology?”
“Yeah.”
Afraid that he’d shut down if she questioned him further, she threw him her best smirk and said, “Well, analyze this!” With those words, she shot out the quick left punch and kick she’d thought he’d expected before. The blow glanced off his chin and the kick barely pushed him backward, but, dammit, she’d made contact.
She stepped back a few feet and grinned.
“I think we’ve found your best weapon.”
“What’s that?”
“Say something to throw your opponent off, then take him down.”
“Who knew being a smart-ass would come in handy?”
“Don’t overuse it.”
She cocked her head. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Hell yeah, I’m serious. To survive, you use every weapon at your disposal, especially the unexpected ones.”
“What? I don’t look like a smart-ass?”
“No, you look like a—”
“I look like a what?”
“A fairy princess.”
Jamie couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told her she looked like a Vegas showgirl. She knew she was attractive, but Dylan’s words called to mind more than a pretty woman. He saw an innocence and purity in her. Jamie swallowed the lump in her throat. It had been so long since she’d felt innocent or pure … or even pretty.
“Thank you, Dylan.”
He bent to grab a towel, but not before she saw a slight flush bloom over his face. Dylan … blushing? The day was full of surprises.
Without a hint of warning, Dylan dropped the towel, lunged toward her, and grabbed her in a choke hold. Instinctively, Jamie raised her right arm and poked him in the trachea. Dylan backed away slightly, and Jamie followed with a punch to his neck. When he bent over, she threw a kick to his stomach.
She’d learned during their first day of hand-to-hand training to pull back on her punches. Last week, Dylan had started wearing protective gear. He’d told her she needed to get used to the feel of a real hit. Still, when it came to certain unprotected areas of his body, like his throat, she held back.
Dylan nodded his approval. “You did good.”
Praise from Dylan was rare, making the words even more special. Glowing from his approval, she asked, “What’s next?”
“This.” With that, he whirled her around and grabbed both of her arms. Jamie slammed her head back against his face and stomped on his foot. The instant Dylan’s hands dropped, she whirled away. His hands were covering his face, so she delivered a quick kick to his upper torso and then backed away.
Dylan lowered his arms and said, “Okay, what’d you do wrong here?”
She grimaced. “I should’ve run when your hands were on your face.”
“Remember, survival is the name of the game, not beating the hell out of him. Okay?”
She nodded, irritated that she’d needed the reminder.
“Let’s take a break.”
Jamie picked up her towel and wiped her face. Her adrenaline still in overdrive, she went back to the mat. “I think I’m going to practice a little more.”
“Don’t overdo it. If the weather cooperates tomorrow, we’ll go out to the obstacle course.”
She nodded and tried not to grimace. They’d moved on to the second course a week ago. Since Dylan could finish it in under a minute and it was still taking Jamie almost three minutes, she knew she needed the practice. Her speed was faster than when she’d first tackled the course, but not fast enough. If Dylan was a tough taskmaster on the self-defense training, he was a drill sergeant on the obstacle course. When she’d asked him why he was so much tougher, his explanation had been characteristically brief and blunt. With those green eyes almost flat and lifeless, he’d drawled, “Reddington finds out who you are, you damn well better be able to jump, climb, and crawl with extreme speed. If not, he’ll kill you.”
From then on, she had worked even harder at improving her time.
Aware that Dylan was leaning against the wall, watching her, Jamie went into her stance and then did her best to force him out of her mind.
Dylan took a long swallow of water as he kept an eye on Jamie’s movements. What she lacked in strength, she made up for with grace and precision. She wasn’t a natural, but that didn’t concern him. He’d never seen anyone more determined. He had no worries that once she left here, she would know how to defend herself against any predator who came her way. That still couldn’t include Reddington and his henchmen.
Even though she hadn’t mentioned her purpose for training in a while, he knew she hadn’t changed her mind. She still planned on going after the bastard. Dylan’s plans hadn’t changed, either. He still had every intention of thwarting those plans.
When she’d first arrived, she’d told him her timeline was approximately three months. Time had moved quickly, and he now had just a little over a month left to convince her that she couldn’t handle such a job, but he had to do so without destroying the confidence she’d gained. When he’d agreed to this, he’d known it wouldn’t be easy. Being attracted to the person you were training was bound to hinder your concentration. Turned out, it hadn’t. Oh, the attraction was still there—had grown even stronger. But Jamie’s determination to learn had helped him focus on making sure she learned everything she could. Saving her life was his number one priority.
He had hoped that LCR would have found Reddington’s hiding place by now. Giving her the news that she no longer needed to worry about the bastard would’ve been worth all of the sleepless nights.
She had no idea that she was driving him crazy. He’d made sure of that. Since being an asshole was as natural as breathing to him, he knew exactly how to act to keep her from guessing.
He’d never met anyone like Jamie. After all the things that had happened to her, she maintained a shining optimism. One that refused to be shattered by the deeds of evil men. She was like sunshine.
Mentally rolling his eyes at his thoughts, Dylan took the last swallow of water from his bottle and pitched it into a recycling bin. He’d already told her she looked like a fairy princess today. Now he was thinking of sunshine. Where this weird shit came from, he didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. He liked women. Hell, he’d been married to a stunningly beautiful woman and never had he considered spouting poetry or flowery words. Of course, the fact that Sheila had been an amoral bitch might’ve prevented that.
“I’ve got some things I need to do. Take a break for the rest of the day.”
She completed the strike-kick combination and then stopped. “For the whole day?”
He almost smiled at her dismay. “Watch some training DVDs. Give your body a rest. I’d like to see you cut your time on the course in half tomorrow. If you’re sore, that’s not going to be possible.”
Fighting the compulsion to kiss the little pout that curved her mouth, Dylan turned away and headed upstairs without waiting for a reply. Most days he could ignore that need, but lately, it had become a constant want.
What would she do if he kissed her? Held her against him and let her feel the arousal that never eased? Would she be surprised? Run away, afraid of him? Or would she respond?
Dylan slammed the door to his bedroom and dropped into a chair by the window. Snow still covered a large part of the grounds, but it had been raining the last couple of days, melting much of it into a sloppy mass of slush. The heavy snowfall this winter had been a hindrance for more than one reason. Being able to use the obstacle course only a few days each week had slowed down her training. He wanted Jamie to be able to defend herself, but he also wanted her to be able to escape from whatever
situation she might find herself in someday.
That wasn’t the only detriment, though. Being cooped up in the cabin with her had increased his awareness and desire. Sexual denial wasn’t a new thing for him. While on an op, which could take weeks or months, either those kinds of needs got put on the back burner or he took things into his own hands. With Jamie, the desire was front and center, and easing his own arousal was about as appealing as eating dry toast.
Cursing his weakness, Dylan grabbed the phone on the bedside table. Time to check in with McCall.
His ear to the phone, Dylan barely heard half a ring before McCall picked up. “Still nothing.”
Sighing at the news, he rubbed a finger against a throb between his eyes. “No word from Raphael?”
“Nothing other than that cryptic email.”
Raphael had been with Reddington for almost a month now. Two weeks ago, he’d sent an email to Noah at a dummy address LCR had set up to intercept messages for undercover ops. The sender could put anything in the address, as long as it contained the correct combination and a certain sequence of letters and numbers, and the message would get to LCR. And McCall was right about cryptic. The email had been two lines: Please suspend my subscription to The Lark magazine. Will renew upon my return.
An obscure magazine in Spain called The Lark covered nightlife for Madrid and the surrounding areas, and according to reliable intel, Raphael did indeed have a subscription. However, he had sent the email to LCR; the message had been for Noah.
They’d spent days trying to decipher what Raphael had been trying to convey. Three conclusions were finally made: Raphael was alive; he was staying for an indefinite period of time; and—possibly the biggest stretch—he was trying to reveal his location. Samara, Noah’s wife, had come up with the idea of the Canary Islands.
Sweet Revenge Page 11
