When all of this was over, could they start again? He didn’t love her, but the attraction was more than obvious. She smiled at the thought of them going on a real date and behaving like a normal couple. After all that had happened to her in the last couple of years, that sounded so tame, ordinary … and absolutely wonderful.
The alarm beside her bed beeped, letting her know it was time to go and try once again to break into Reddington’s computer. She opened her bedroom door, listened intently, and then peeked out. All clear.
As she made her way down the wide staircase, her steps soft and silent, the uselessness of this act hit her. Sneaking inside and trying yet another password that wasn’t going to work made her want to turn around and head back upstairs. How on earth could she hope to come up with the right one out of trillions of possibilities?
Quietly opening the door to Reddington’s office, Jamie stepped inside, then shut it behind her. Pointless and useless though it was, right now this was all she could do. Hopefully when she and Dylan talked, he’d have a better plan.
“You’re earlier tonight.”
Jamie froze. Horrified, she watched as the chair whirled around and Sarah Reddington rose to her feet behind her husband’s desk.
twenty-one
In a matter of seconds, myriad excuses flitted through Jamie’s mind: I was looking for a book to read. I wanted to use the computer to send an email to a friend. The light is better in here. What, Jamie, what? Say something!
“Mrs. Reddington, I—”
The older woman held up her hand to stop her. Since Jamie still had no idea what she intended to say, stopping was easy.
“I know you and Raphael come in here every night at three. And even though he’s not here, I assumed you would continue your search.”
Still Jamie had no words. The woman knew she was searching for something. Did she know what?
“I’ve decided to help you.”
Of all the things Jamie expected this woman to say, this would have been the last one. Finally, she managed her first word: “Why?”
“Because it’s past time for it to stop.”
“It?”
“I don’t really know all of what he’s done, though I have my ideas. I only know that living like this is no life at all.”
What had Reddington done to change her mind? Though Sarah looked lovely with her shoulder-length midnight hair pulled back into a severe knot, emphasizing her beautiful bone structure and classic features, Jamie noted that her mouth was slightly swollen and her eyes were red-rimmed and gleamed brightly. She had been crying. The dimmed lights at dinner now made sense. What had the bastard done to hurt her?
“I see the questions on your face,” Sarah Reddington said. “I won’t answer them.”
“I understand.” And she did. Having her own share of painful secrets, she respected the woman’s right to keep hers to herself.
Jamie shot a glance at the desktop computer. “I’ve been trying to open the files. I believe there’s incriminating evidence on them. Evidence that your husband would probably kill to keep hidden.”
A small, sad smile fractured Sarah’s soft mouth. “My children’s safety is all I care about. Dying no longer frightens me as it once did.”
For weeks, Jamie had thought Sarah Reddington was totally clueless about her husband and that she was very much in love with him. When Giselle had been hurt, she had realized that all was not as it seemed. Now the stark pain on the older woman’s face told of something even more ominous and chilling.
The need to comfort the woman was strong, but having no idea what to say, Jamie turned to the reason she was here. “Do you have any idea what password he might be using to protect his files?”
A small breath shuddered through the other woman. “Guinevere.”
“Why Guinevere?”
“Because that’s my real name.”
There was a major story behind that explosive statement, but Mrs. Reddington had made it clear she wasn’t willing to talk about her reasons for helping.
While respecting the woman’s privacy, Jamie felt excitement bloom in her at the thought that this could be the key to everything. Crossing over to the desk, she sat down and clicked on the computer. As she waited for it to start up, she glanced up at the woman who stood behind her and was surprised to see a look of wonder on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
Sarah shook her head. “I’ve never seen it turned on before.”
The thought that in this day and time, anyone other than someone in a third world country had never seen a live computer screen amazed her. It shouldn’t have, though. If the woman had lived here for years, secluded from the world, it only made sense that she’d had no exposure to such things.
When the icons appeared, Jamie took a deep breath. She told herself not to get her hopes up. Guinevere was one name in millions. The chances of it being the right one were beyond remote. Still, her fingers shook as she brought up the list of files and clicked on the first one. After typing in “Guinevere,” she hit Enter and held her breath.
A screen filled with names, dates, and prices appeared. Jamie felt as if she’d won the lottery, Publishers Clearing House, and a game show grand prize all at once.
“Is that what you’re looking for?”
With excitement numbing her mouth, unable to articulate a sound, Jamie nodded.
“These are names of people he sold, aren’t they?”
Recognizing the pain in Mrs. Reddington’s voice, Jamie twisted her head to look up at her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She opened a drawer and said, “Do you need paper to write them down?”
Jamie shook her head and withdrew the flash drives from her pocket. She inserted one into a port. “I’ll copy them onto this.”
Her eyes wide with amazement again, Sarah said, “All of that can go into something that small?”
“Yes.” Quickly saving the information to the drive, Jamie clicked on another file. She dared not hope it was the same password, but she had to give it a try. And once again, the file opened.
For half an hour, Jamie opened file after file and copied the information. Mrs. Reddington stood behind her, unmoving. What had this woman gone through in her lifetime? At one time, Jamie had worried what would happen to Sarah and the children once Reddington was behind bars. Now she knew that whatever happened, not only would be it better than what she had to deal with now, but that Sarah Reddington was apparently ready to meet those challenges.
When the last file had been copied, Jamie carefully closed it, shut down the computer, and stood. She turned to Mrs. Reddington, unsure of what she should say. The risk this woman had taken awed her. If her husband ever found out … Jamie mentally shook her head. He would never find out; she would make sure of that.
“Thank you for this.”
“Did he hurt you, too?”
The sad words gave Jamie even more insight into the older woman’s life. “Yes, he did. He …” What could she say? The woman knew that her husband was a corrupt, evil man. Did she know that her son was a perverted sex fiend? Hadn’t she been through enough? Problem was, if these files incriminated her son too, Mrs. Reddington would certainly know soon. Wouldn’t it be kinder to go ahead and tell her?
She started: “Mrs. Reddington, your son … he …” Good Lord, she couldn’t do it. How do you tell a mother that her son is a sadistic pervert?
The expression on Sarah’s face made it unnecessary. She might not know the details, but she knew. Her sad words “He’s like his father in many ways” confirmed it.
“I’m very sorry.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
Coming right after the nightmare she’d had earlier, these words almost made Jamie cry. Never had she thought to hear an apology, especially from the mother of her abuser.
“I’m fine now.” She pocketed the flash drive. The later it got, the more the risk of getting caught increased. “I’d better go.”
“When will you leave?”
“Tomorrow, maybe.” She couldn’t tell her about Dylan. The less the woman knew, the better her chances of being able to hide everything from her husband.
Mrs. Reddington nodded. “I’ll stay in here for a few minutes. It would be best if no one sees us together.”
“You and the children can come with me. You don’t have to stay here.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
Instead of giving a direct answer, Sarah shook her head. “I’ll wait out the storm here.”
Jamie went to the door and opened it softly. Then she turned, unable to leave without asking one last question. “Why did you stay all these years?”
With stark desolation in her eyes, Sarah whispered, “There are thousands of excuses and reasons I could give you. Funny, but none of them seem valid any longer. I only know I can’t live this way anymore.”
Dylan woke the next morning, rock hard and angry—never a good combination. During the little sleep he’d managed, he’d been plagued with odd, erotic dreams. Since he’d met Jamie, sex dreams had become a frequent occurrence. Now a new twist had been added, because the woman he’d met last night, Karen Jennings, had been in a few of them. He told himself that being attracted to another woman meant he was moving on and accepting that there was no future with Jamie. While that might have been true, he couldn’t deny the guilt, almost as if he had been unfaithful.
That wasn’t the reason he was angry. Last night had been a total waste of time. He’d waited until the household had settled down. Three-fifteen in the morning should have been prime searching time. He had believed that until he’d gotten to Reddington’s office and had heard voices. The door and walls were too thick to hear what they were saying, but he’d heard at least two distinctive, if muffled, voices.
Since he couldn’t just hang out in the hallway, hoping they’d leave, he’d returned to his room and waited. Half an hour later, he’d gone back and found the office empty. Not that it’d done any good. He’d found a safe that most assuredly had an alarm attached to it and a computer with the most sophisticated password-protection device he’d seen. Going undercover with Reddington was going to be a breeze compared to breaking into his files.
After nothing but invalid password messages to show for his time, he’d given up. He’d just have to figure out a way to get Reddington’s passwords. Some of the desk drawers had been locked. Maybe the man had written them down somewhere. Tonight he’d concentrate on the drawers, along with the ones in the credenza.
Today he faced an interesting challenge: meeting Lancelot Reddington and, instead of beating the shit out of him, actually teaching him how to determine the dollar value of human flesh.
With a snort of disgust, Dylan pulled himself out of bed. At least he had good accommodations. The view from his balcony looked out over the ocean. Would be nice if he could sit out there and drink coffee. Unfortunately, Reddington expected him for a breakfast meeting in—Dylan checked his watch—twenty minutes.
After a quick shower, he pulled on a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt, and his oldest pair of running shoes. Dylan had never seen Reddington in anything other than a suit. Even Armando and his other goons dressed like they were businessmen. Maybe it was the man’s attempt at feeling less like a sleaze. It amused Dylan to dress in the complete opposite style. Pissing Reddington off this way was a petty indulgence, but he’d take what he could get.
He arrived at the south patio to find Reddington, Armando, and Bruno just sitting down to eat. Apparently this was going to be a working breakfast, which suited him fine. Having Reddington’s wife and daughter around, not to mention the schoolteacher, would only be a distraction.
A slight tick in Reddington’s jaw told Dylan that the man was still pissed about something. The obvious argument he’d had with his wife seconds after they’d arrived must’ve been something else. Last night, the anger had been seething but toned down. Today, he didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.
And when Reddington described the reason for his anger, Dylan’s day got considerably brighter.
“My daughter had an accident a couple of days ago and hurt her leg. Instead of handling the injury here on the island, she and her boyfriend chose to defy my orders to never leave the island. She’s in a hospital on La Rosa.”
He turned to Armando. “Since you’re going to collect Lance this afternoon, I want you to go earlier and pick up Giselle and Raphael as well.” He expression hardened. “They must come home immediately.”
As Armando gave his reassurance, Dylan’s mind tried to get into Raphael’s head. Would the kid take the chance he’d been given and get the hell away? Raphael was a smart kid, but just how did he feel about Reddington’s daughter? Reddington had referred to him as his daughter’s boyfriend.
The optimism Dylan had felt at learning that Raphael had gotten away disappeared. Armando would have no qualms about using force. The kid was untrained, unable to defend himself.
“Want me to help Armando?” he asked. “Might give Lance and me a chance to get to know each other.”
Armando shook his head emphatically. “I can handle the job.” The glare he shot Dylan was telling. Apparently, the admiration the man had for Dylan had morphed into jealousy. Great, just what he needed: a jealous psycho.
Reddington nodded. “I have full faith that Armando will return with Giselle, Raphael, and Lance.”
Dylan shrugged as if he didn’t care. Arguing would only create suspicion. The best he could hope for was that Raphael’s good sense and instincts had told him to run while he could. “What do you want me to do today?”
“You and Bruno can both take the day off. Lie on the beach. Enjoy the beauty of my home.”
Wouldn’t hurt to take another look around. Unless Armando was using the yacht to retrieve Reddington’s kids and Raphael, there was another way to get off the island. Maybe things were looking up after all.
“I think I’ll pay that pretty teacher a visit.”
Dylan’s head jerked up at Bruno’s statement. What the hell?
Reddington chuckled. “I thought I saw interest in your eyes last night. Be warned, though. She’s newly widowed and may not be interested.”
Bruno smiled. “I can be very persuasive.”
“No.” The word was out of Dylan’s mouth before he could consider the consequences, but damned if he’d regret it. The image of this hulking giant getting close enough to touch Karen Jennings caused Dylan’s breakfast to surge up his throat.
“So you have an interest in the little teacher, too,” Reddington said. “Interesting.”
“I called her first,” Bruno grumbled.
Dylan swallowed a comeback that would only rile the bastard. Defending a lady’s honor wasn’t something John Wheeler would do. Men like Wheeler and Bruno wanted women for only one thing.
Turning to Reddington, he said, “You told me I could have my pick of two women at the next auction. Instead of taking two then, I’ll go ahead and take this woman as my bonus.”
Bruno opened his mouth to speak, but Reddington raised his hand to stop him. A glint in his eyes told Dylan he wasn’t going to like what the man was about to say.
“It’s true, you did ask for two women as a bonus. But Bruno asked for this woman first. I think the best way to solve the problem is to have a competition.”
“What kind of competition?” Bruno asked.
Reddington eyed Dylan up and down and then turned back to Bruno. “Wheeler here doesn’t have as much bulk as you do, but I’ve heard he’s quite talented. And I’ve seen you in action. Let’s see who’s the toughest. Winner gets to court the teacher.”
Cursing under his breath, Dylan kept his face impassive. Even though Bruno had about fifty pounds on him, Dylan didn’t doubt his own abilities. He’d end up with some bruises and a cracked rib or two, but he’d had worse.
“I’m game,” Dylan said.
A slow smile spread across Bruno f
ace. Apparently, he was just as sure of his abilities.
“Excellent,” Reddington said. “We’ll have it tonight, after the party.”
With a jerk of his head in agreement, Dylan stood. If he had the day to himself, spending any more time in the company of sleaze was a waste of good air. “Until tonight.”
Turning, he walked back inside, away from the men, his mind on a new concern—one he hadn’t anticipated. Winning this fight wasn’t an issue. Bruno probably had little formal training. Brute force had likely won him his share of fights. Dylan did have formal training, along with down-and-dirty street-fighting experience. He knew he could bring the giant down. His concern was what would happen after he left. Did Karen Jennings realize she was in a pit of vipers?
The best he could do would be to warn her about what she’d gotten herself into. Once he got the files, he’d talk with her and give her the option of staying or coming with him.
About to run upstairs to start searching for her, Dylan saw a small, dark blur running down the steps outside. Amelia Reddington was headed toward the beach. Behind her, going at a slightly slower pace, was Karen Jennings.
He shot a glance back at Reddington and Bruno. Glad to see they were deep in a discussion, he veered around and headed out a side door. Reddington wouldn’t appreciate the young teacher being given unsavory information about her employer, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t at least warn her.
Running down the steps, he saw Amelia dart off down the beach. Karen Jennings called out, “Don’t get too far ahead,” and then she laughed.
Dylan jerked to a stop. That laugh. Holy shit!
twenty-two
Jamie laughed as an energetic and exuberant Amelia ran ahead of her. The little girl’s feelings had been hurt yesterday, but this morning, she was acting as happy as always. One of the things Jamie loved the most about working with children was their incredible resilience. Thank God Amelia had that, since her life would most likely become even more difficult when her father was put away.
Sweet Revenge Page 25
