“Close the door,” she whispered.
Raphael quickly complied, then moved toward her. “You are McKenna. Right?”
Jamie shook her head. “I’m her sister … Jamie.”
If she had told him she was Santa Claus, she didn’t think he could look more shocked.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“The same thing you are, I imagine. I’m trying to find the information to nail the son of a bitch.”
He shook his head slowly as though he still couldn’t believe her. “After all he put you through? Why would you do that?”
“Because he needs to be stopped.”
“But LCR’s working on that.”
Yes, she was more than aware that most everyone, including Dylan, thought she was an absolute idiot for wanting to put herself at risk again. Having Raphael reiterate that point wasn’t a surprise.
“They weren’t getting anywhere. I found a way in and decided to use it.”
“Does Noah know?”
“No. No one does.”
“Not even your sister?”
Jamie didn’t flinch as she shook her head. She knew full well that when she saw her sister again, she was going to have to make major amends. Worrying about that now would do no good.
“Why do—”
“Look, we can stand here all night and argue about whether I should be here or not. I’m here, and that’s that. Do you want to help me or not?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, but I don’t know how much help I can be. I’ve been in those cabinets you’re about to go through. There’s nothing incriminating. Mostly tax papers and things to do with his legitimate businesses.”
“Well, at least I know where not to waste my time. Where else have you searched?”
“The computer is our best bet.” He pointed at the wall beyond her. “There’s a safe behind that picture, but it needs a key and a combination. I couldn’t figure out how to open it.”
Safecracking hadn’t been on her training agenda, either. Stupid not to have thought of that. She gave a mental headshake. Seems like she’d been saying that to herself a lot lately.
“What about the computer? Have you been able to get into any of his files?”
“A few, but nothing that mentions anything about slave trading or human trafficking. Just some offshore investments.”
Jamie headed to the desk and sat down. Flipping the switch, she waited for the computer to boot up. When Raphael came to stand beside her, she looked up at him. “How did you get here, and how long have you been here?”
“Reddington contacted me and offered to tutor me in business. I thought it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I’ve been here about four months.”
Jamie gasped, unable to hide her dismay. And she’d thought she could find something in just a few weeks here. “And you haven’t found anything?”
“No, but Reddington just left a couple of weeks ago. While he was here, I didn’t get much of a chance to look.”
That made her feel better, but only slightly. Raphael was obviously an intelligent young man with a sincere desire to help put Reddington away. If he hadn’t been able to uncover any information, then what could she do?
“Does LCR know you’re here?”
He nodded. “I contacted Noah before I left. He didn’t want me to come, but it was an opportunity no one else would get. He gave me a phone to bring with me, but they made me throw it away. As far as I know, LCR still doesn’t know where I am. I’ve managed a couple of vague emails just to let him know I’m okay.”
Noah was probably worried sick about Raphael, and with good reason. She refused to consider that she was pretty much in the same boat as he was. No one knew she was here, either.
“There are several files on his computer I haven’t been able to access,” Raphael said. “They’re password-protected. Two wrong tries and then it locks down the system. I found that out the first time I tried.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket and handed it to her. “Since then, I’ve tried one different password each night and wrote them down so I wouldn’t use them again.”
Jamie glanced at the paper. Raphael had used the names of Reddington’s children and his wife. And one birth date. She looked up at him. “This birthday … is it Giselle’s?”
A tender expression flickered on his handsome face. “She volunteered that information.”
Jamie’s heart hurt for him. It was obvious that he was in love with the girl. At this time, Giselle probably felt the same way, but how would she feel if she learned Raphael was here to try to put her father behind bars?
The computer screen flickered, bringing Jamie’s focus back to their search. Several icons appeared on the screen, but the one that caught her attention was for a spreadsheet program. She pointed to it. “Is this the one you’ve tried?”
“Yes. Each file’s name is a date … some going back several years. I checked the calendar. Most of the dates were on a Tuesday.”
A cold chill swept through Jamie. Every other Tuesday was Reddington’s market day. This had to be it—irrefutable proof that the man was in the human-trafficking and slave-trading business. One of the many things she’d heard about while Reddington was talking with his son was his obsessive need to document each purchase, including the location where each person was obtained, their name, and a description. He had explained that with documentation, he could trace each person’s origin for the buyer. He’d said his own father had been a sloppy record keeper, but that he’d changed that when he’d taken over.
“He told his son that he jots down everything in a journal and then each time he comes home, he scans the information into his computer.”
Raphael stooped down beside her. “Do you have anything to copy it to? I was just going to try to remember as much as I could, in hopes that we can track some of the people he’s sold.”
She nodded. “Even though my stuff was searched before I got on the plane, I managed to hide a couple of flash drives in my cosmetics bag.” She’d actually hidden them in a tampon box and had almost smiled when the big, burly man who’d pawed through her stuff had looked panicked and embarrassed when he’d come across the feminine hygiene package.
“I don’t suppose you overheard any passwords when Reddington was talking to Lance?”
“No.” If only she had, this would be a snap. Now they were limited to one try per night, and the password could be anything.
She glanced down at the paper again at the words Raphael had tried. “What about a middle name? Does Reddington have one?”
“He might, but I don’t know what it is.”
“Okay, what about Giselle’s middle name? Do you know it?”
“Marie.”
She shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.” She clicked on a file and when the password question came up, she typed in “Marie” and hit enter. Invalid password. With each successive file, she tried the same name and came up empty each time. If she tried another name or word and it wasn’t the correct one, the entire system would shut down for twenty-four hours. Though she doubted anyone on the island other than Reddington used the computer, she couldn’t take the chance of anyone realizing someone had been trying to access the files.
“This could take years.” Blowing out a sigh, she shook her head. “We need to figure out how to get into Reddington’s mind.”
“He’ll be here next weekend. I can try—”
A slight shuffling sound hit her ears. Jamie held up her hand to warn Raphael. With her heart in her throat, she held her breath. The light switch was beside the door, across the room. There was no way either of them could get to it in time to turn it off.
“Get under the desk,” Raphael whispered. “I have an explanation for being here, but you don’t.”
Sliding from the chair, Jamie sank to the floor. The sound had stopped abruptly, almost as if whoever had made it had realized they’d been heard. Her eyes stayed on Raphael, knowing he’d alert her if he saw anyone.
One minute became two, and still no more sounds. Raphael pressed a finger to his mouth and disappeared from sight. Jamie heard a whoosh as the door opened; she could only assume he was looking out into the hallway. Seconds later he came back and said, “There’s no one out there now.”
She got to her feet, not surprised to find that her knees were shaking. Having Mrs. Reddington walk in on them would be the end of everything.
“We’d better call it quits for tonight.” Raphael shrugged. “Just in case.”
She agreed. The tension from tonight’s dinner, her meltdown, and now this had exhausted her. “We’ll give it another try tomorrow.”
Raphael clicked off the computer. “Go on ahead. I’ll wait a few minutes.”
She headed to the door, then turned around. “I never got a chance to thank you in person … for what you did. You saved my life.”
A smile brightened his handsome face. “It was my pleasure.”
“See you tomorrow.” Jamie turned and went through the door. With her mind on how to proceed the next day, she never saw the shadow attached to the wall.
nineteen
The Atlantic Ocean, near the Canary Islands
Sprawled on the leather sofa of his new boss’s yacht, Dylan was the embodiment of “I don’t give a damn” machismo. Reddington had brought several of his men along—two bodyguards, the faithful Armando, and a man named Bruno, who, with his thick neck and dead eyes, looked like a cross between a wrestler and a hit man. So far, they’d all kept Dylan at a respectful distance. Having earned the reputation of being able to kick anyone’s ass and deliver whatever Reddington wanted had elevated him to a stature few had attained.
Even Armando seemed to be in awe of him now. Armando’s initial attitude toward Dylan as a prospective employee had turned into an uncomfortable hero worship. The man turned to him for approval almost as much as he did to Reddington. Nice to know he could still fit in with the cesspool of humanity. And he’d thought his old man’s training had been good for nothing but nightmares.
Dylan was more than ready for this mission to be finished. Reddington had been fucking the world for too long. When it was all said and done, he’d love the opportunity to visit the bastard in prison and tell him that Jamie Kendrick had been the reason for his downfall. Jamie had given them much of the intel they’d needed. He wouldn’t do that, though. Even behind bars, Reddington might still have influence. The last thing Dylan wanted was to put Jamie back on the man’s radar.
He did want to see Jamie again, just once more … just to see the knowledge in her eyes that she had achieved the revenge she’d so desperately wanted. Would that give her the peace she sought?
Dylan knew he’d screwed up badly. He never should have agreed to the assignment. He had known how attracted he was to her. Being cooped up in a cabin for months … Shit, he should have realized he’d let his guard down eventually. And what had happened? He’d slept with her. Had done his best to make sure she realized how weak she was, and had almost seduced her to get information. Hell, he was lucky he hadn’t taught her how to shoot. He’d hurt her so damn bad.
His only solace was that Jamie was somewhere safe and out of harm’s way, and soon Reddington would be in a place where he could no longer hurt anyone. Would she be surprised that her happiness was of the utmost importance to Dylan?
He shook himself out of his introspection. Being the hard-assed, cold-blooded criminal didn’t exactly go with being a brooding, lovesick idiot. Two days ago, the mystique Dylan had been building had solidified and his reputation for finding and delivering the juiciest pieces of flesh had become awe-inspiring.
LCR operative Sabrina Fox had arrived in Madrid for her new assignment only hours before he was to deliver her to Reddington. Though Dylan knew she’d come fully prepared and completely familiar with her mission, he had briefed her again. Putting anyone in Reddington’s clutches, no matter how well trained, didn’t sit right with him. Just under six feet tall, with flaming auburn hair, creamy skin, and a body that would make most any man drool, Sabrina had the exact specifications Reddington’s client had requested.
After that briefing, Dylan had delivered her to Reddington. And Sabrina, hands bound together, wearing only her underwear, acted appropriately terrified and submissive. Reddington’s eyes swept over her, his gaze coldly calculating. Then he turned to Dylan. “Damn, you do know your flesh. That’s about as fine a specimen as I’ve ever seen.” His eyes went cold again. “You didn’t sample her, did you?”
His expression coolly bored, Dylan shook his head. “I don’t play with the merchandise.”
Approval and something like admiration flickered on the older man’s face. “How did you find one so fine and so fast?”
Dylan shrugged. “Picked her up at a bar in Barcelona.”
“And she meets all the criteria?”
“I wouldn’t have brought her here otherwise.”
His eyes still focused on Sabrina, Reddington said, “I need a name and location for my records.”
Dylan handed him a slip of paper with the specifics. Reddington glanced at the paper briefly; then his eyes returned to Sabrina, but his words were for Dylan. “Take her out the back door. There’s a limo waiting in the alley. Put her in the back and collect the payment. Don’t open the envelope. Bring it back to me.”
Dylan nodded, grabbed Sabrina’s upper arm, and pushed her forward. This was the hardest part for him. At least with Reddington, he was by her side if something went wrong. Delivering her to an unknown man brought out all of his protective instincts.
Being Sabrina, she sensed his reluctance and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’m looking forward to this.”
Even now, days later, he thought about that reassurance and could almost smile. Sabrina had been with LCR for only about a year, but had developed a reputation for thoroughly enjoying certain aspects of the job—taking down perverted assholes was one of them.
And she’d been right. A few hours after Dylan had pushed her into the car and taken the payment a long, bony hand had held for him, he’d heard from Jared Livingston. Sabrina was fine, and Portuguese businessman Darius Azedo had been quietly taken into custody. Reddington was none the wiser.
A slimy sleaze was in jail, and Dylan’s status had been elevated in Reddington’s eyes. All in all, a successful part of the mission. Now on to the finale: bringing the bastard down for good.
Stanford sat at his desk, the smooth glide of water beneath the yacht a soothing and joyful reminder of his destination. Going home after being away for a few weeks always made him happy. Knowing he had a loving, adoring family waiting for him made all the difference.
Life was finally getting back to normal. His moles had dug up nothing new on Last Chance Rescue and their efforts to infiltrate his organization. He had figured his legitimate businesses would be seen as a soft target; an operative would weasel their way into the ranks, then work from the ground up. That concern had caused him to enforce a hiring freeze. He had blamed the economy, but his number one concern was protecting himself. His personnel managers had told him there’d been numerous job applicants. It delighted him to think that some of those were LCR people. Outsmarting them was one of this year’s highlights.
Another highlight was his interesting new employee, John Wheeler. Stanford had been in the game for a long time and could spot a natural in an instant. The man knew his flesh. And damned if Wheeler didn’t have a talent for getting the most succulent pieces he’d seen in years.
The information he had on Wheeler was reassuring and interesting. The man had a reason for knowing the flesh trade. He had a reputation in North America that even Stanford envied. But he’d been on the verge of getting caught and had left the country. Probably lost a lot of money, but Wheeler’s loss was his gain. With this man’s know-how, Stanford anticipated making double what he ordinarily would. A good thing, since his profits had decreased considerably this year.
Life was not only returning to normal, it was gett
ing even better. Raphael was clearly enamored with Giselle. And though his daughter’s happiness was important, his main goal was to bring a man into the family business who could take over when the time was right. He’d seen Raphael’s potential and ambition early on. As his son-in-law, the young man would feel a loyalty to him and the Reddington empire. And Raphael would get a beautiful wife in the bargain. A win-win for everyone.
Stanford leaned back in his chair with a sigh. In just a few hours, he’d be back with his family. And little did his dear wife know, but he had a special gift being delivered to her just in time for her birthday. At last, his entire family would be together again.
Reddington’s island
Raphael sat on his favorite lookout point on the island. The rocky point jutted toward the water as if reaching out its hand, searching. He kind of knew how it felt. After months on the island, he found himself wondering if he’d ever see civilization again.
His only bright spot had been the time he’d spent with Giselle. He knew he was young to be making a major decision about wanting to spend the rest of his life with a woman, but what he lacked in age, he more than made up for in experience. Having been on his own since he was thirteen years old, he’d been around long enough to know what he wanted. Giselle was it for him.
An ache grew in his chest—a permanent affliction, he feared. Even if her father hadn’t been a low-life human trafficker, her brother a first-rate creep, and Raphael himself working to destroy part of her family, what future could he offer? He had no money. Giselle had grown up on her own island, and though she’d been deprived of many advantages, material things hadn’t been one of them.
Besides that, he was probably the first guy she’d been around. Aside from her family, the only other people on the island were servants, and the youngest man was at least fifty. Was it any wonder she’d fallen for Raphael?
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