Sweet Revenge

by Christy Reece

  Emotion swamped her. She loved him. God in heaven, how she loved this man. Everything he had done, even when he was bullying her, frustrating her, and growling at her, he’d done because he cared. Maybe he didn’t love her, but she owed him so much. And other than thanking him for rescuing her, she’d done nothing to repay him.

  “Karen, are you all right?”

  Taking her eyes off Dylan, she turned to Giselle. “I’m fine. It’s been a long day, and I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  Giselle offered her a sympathetic smile, and once again, Jamie felt guilty. The poor girl looked as though she’d been crying for days. Her leg, encased in a cast halfway up her thigh, had to be causing her discomfort, but Jamie got the feeling that it was Raphael’s desertion that was hurting her the most. When she’d asked about him, Giselle’s lips had trembled and her eyes had filled with tears. “He said he had to leave, but we would see each other again.”

  Jamie had responded with what she was sure was the truth: “Then if he said you’ll see him again, you will.”

  Giselle had seemed to take comfort in that, and though Jamie felt sad for her, she was glad that Raphael had gotten away. Had he gone back to Madrid or was he with Noah in Paris? Either way, as long as he was far away from Reddington, he was safe.

  Reddington’s voice boomed out, startling Jamie: “Come, everyone. Let’s go to dinner and celebrate the birth of the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  As she headed to the dining room with the rest of the group, Jamie was aware of Dylan’s presence behind her. Just knowing he was there gave her comfort, along with the courage to sit down to dinner with the monster who starred in all of her nightmares.

  Dylan had never come closer to blowing a mission in his life. As he stood talking with Lance Reddington, acting as if he were interested in what the creep had to say, he could feel Jamie’s pain as clearly as if it were his own. Whatever Lance had done to her, she still suffered. And Dylan wanted to make him pay.

  He could do nothing other than stay as close to her as possible and let her know that she wasn’t alone. Taking his revenge would do nothing more than get one piece of scum removed from the world.

  The best revenge for everyone was to stop Reddington and rescue as many of the people he’d sold over the years as possible. That would destroy the man and, ultimately, his son.

  He ate a light dinner. In an hour or so, he was going to fight. The thought of puking his guts up all over Bruno was enticing, but he intended to beat the hell out of the guy, not gross him out.

  Though he was aware of everyone at the table, his senses homed in on Jamie, who sat across from him and to his left. Thankfully Reddington and his son were at the other end of the table. Dylan noted that Jamie picked at her food, and he was sure she was counting the minutes until she could get away.

  If all went as planned, they’d both be gone in a few hours. Dylan had been standing out of sight, not far from the pool house, when Armando arrived this afternoon with Lance and Giselle. He’d crept closer and watched through the window as the man placed the keys underneath the seat and then closed the fake floor that covered the boat.

  Once he finished with Bruno, he’d grab his stuff, get Jamie, and be off.

  Dylan didn’t bother to question if he was making it all seem too easy. Easy or hard, they were getting out of here tonight.

  twenty-three

  Jamie stood at the entrance to the gym. Large and spacious, it held a nice assortment of equipment and free weights. She figured the giant red-and-black cage across the room, where several men stood, would be the fight location. Apparently, this kind of entertainment wasn’t unusual on the island.

  Reddington had stopped her on her way out the door after dinner and told her she was invited to attend “tonight’s entertainment.” She’d smiled politely, as if she didn’t know what he was talking about—as if some concert were being held, as opposed to what she knew it to be: two men beating each other up for a chance to court her. She was in equal parts infuriated and horrified. Reddington’s opinion of women was no surprise. Maybe what surprised her most was how he had gazed down at her as if he thought she would be pleased. Only a sick, twisted pervert would think a woman would be happy to be fought over like she was a piece of meat.

  She was dressed and ready for their escape as soon as Dylan gave the word. Taking anything other than the flash drives and her fake identification would be pointless. There was nothing else she wanted to keep. She had changed from the dress she’d worn at dinner to a comfortable pair of loose black pants and a matching long cotton shirt. Beneath her shirt, she’d tucked her identification and the flash drives into a small pouch attached to her belt. Once they were safely away, she looked forward to ditching the extra padding she had to wear.

  A smiling Reddington appeared in front of her, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Welcome, Karen. I think you’ll enjoy tonight’s show.”

  At a loss for an appropriate comeback, Jamie returned his smile and remained silent. She wanted to ask him exactly what part of tonight’s entertainment she was supposed to enjoy: the sweat, the blood, or the possibility of broken bones?

  Yes, she knew many people enjoyed watching fights. Fighting for money, to defend someone, or, hell, even for the fun of it wasn’t the issue here. This fight was essentially for ownership of a person—namely, Jamie.

  Reddington led her to a row of chairs beside the cage. “Have a seat. We’ll get started in a few minutes.”

  Since she wasn’t supposed to know what this was about, Jamie glanced around the gym and then up at Reddington. “But where are Mrs. Reddington and the rest of the guests?”

  “She’s squeamish when it comes to this kind of entertainment. This is a men-only event, but I invited you because you’re the main attraction.”

  “Excuse me?” There was no way she could fake her response or appear anything less than insulted.

  Reddington chuckled, apparently not disturbed by her reaction. “You don’t have to do anything but sit and watch, my dear. As soon as our contestants arrive, I’ll explain everything.”

  A sound behind the man caused him to turn. Peering around him, Jamie caught her breath, and a new, larger worry surfaced. She’d been selfishly focused on the insult to her without considering what Dylan was going to have to go through. She knew he was strong and well trained, knew he could move with amazing speed. But now, as she stared at the hulk that had just arrived, she felt major doubts.

  Bruno wasn’t as tall as Dylan, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in bulk. She’d seen him dressed in suits that had probably been tailored for him and had hidden some of that massiveness. Now, wearing only a pair of tight, spandex shorts, he flexed his bulging muscles. Nausea roiled in her stomach at the thought of what kind of damage this man could do.

  Seconds later, Dylan appeared. Dressed in a pair of ragged-looking army-issue khakis, he looked muscled and toned. With eight-pack abs, broad shoulders, and muscled arms and chest, he exuded masculinity and strength. But would that strength and training hold up against sheer brute force?

  With her eyes and her worry focused on Dylan, Jamie didn’t notice that anyone else was close until someone sat beside her. She turned her head and, in an instant, felt as if the floor had opened beneath her.

  Flashing a charming smile, the young man held out his hand and noted, “We didn’t get to officially meet earlier. I’m Lance Reddington.”

  She made herself lift her hand and place it in his, heard herself mumble something. Whatever she said, it must have been appropriate enough because he let go of her hand and said, “This must be very exciting for you.”

  Bile came into her mouth. Not only was her worst nightmare sitting beside her, he was expecting her to carry on a conversation about the upcoming event—to be excited and happy. She couldn’t answer; there were just no words anywhere in her frozen mind that would sound even moderately sane.

  Numbly, she heard voices and looked up. Dylan and Re
ddington seemed to be having an argument. Finally Reddington nodded and turned to the small group of people that were sitting in the row of chairs with Jamie. She recognized many of the male staff on the island. They had arrived without her even being aware of them … her total concentration had been on the demon sitting beside her.

  With Bruno on one side of him and Dylan on the other, Reddington addressed the audience: “It’s been a while since we’ve enjoyed this kind of entertainment on the island. Tonight, we have two gentlemen who are vying for the affections of our newest resident, Karen Jennings. Each man has indicated an interest in courting her, so to settle this dispute, we’re having a battle of sorts. As I informed the men earlier, there’s only one rule.” Reddington paused for effect and then grinned as he continued: “Nobody dies.”

  Dylan murmured something; Reddington nodded and added, “Mr. Wheeler and Bruno will have a brief moment with Mrs. Jennings before the proceedings begin.” He grinned again. “A precursor to romance, if you will.”

  Reddington came toward her and said, “Mrs. Jennings, come with me.”

  Getting away from Lance Reddington was such a welcome relief, she gladly took the older man’s hand. He led her to an isolated corner. “Bruno will go first. He’ll have one minute to charm you. Then Mr. Wheeler will have his turn.”

  Bracing herself against the wall, she watched Bruno clomp toward her. Oddly enough, he looked completely sincere and serious. Jamie had no idea what to expect when he stopped in front of her.

  “It gets lonely on the island.” His large throat worked as he swallowed hard and added, “I didn’t know I’d be expected to say anything to you.”

  With each passing moment, the evening grew more bizarre. Unable to find anything remotely encouraging or fitting to say, she murmured the first thing that came into her head: “A good book can be a lot of company.”

  She didn’t know which of them was more astonished by her inane statement. His expression one of confusion, he nodded and backed away. The instant he left, she regretted not saying something that would make her the last person he could be attracted to.

  Dylan came toward her, and Jamie forgot everything but the need to throw herself into his arms and tell him how sorry she was that he was having to do this.

  As usual, Dylan didn’t waste time on niceties. “If this thing turns to shit, don’t wait until three to leave. Find a way to get to the boat and get the hell out of here.”

  Afraid that someone might read her expression, she kept her face as blank as Dylan’s. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Listen to me,” he whispered furiously. “Just because no one’s going to die, doesn’t mean there won’t be injuries. If I’m unconscious or incapacitated, you have to go on your own. Head to the closest island, buy a disposable cellphone, and call McCall. Then lie low till he comes for you. Understand? My cover is still tight. I’ll leave here when Reddington does.”

  What he said made sense, but the thought of leaving Dylan behind was like a punch to her chest. Breathing became difficult.

  “Look at me.”

  She jerked her head up, unaware that she’d been staring into space.

  His eyes pierced hers. “We’ll get through this … trust me.”

  There were few absolute certainties in her life anymore, but this was one she could unequivocally state: “I do.”

  With a final nod, he turned away and headed to the center of the ring, where Reddington and Bruno were waiting.

  Strangely calm, Jamie went back to where the rest of the audience was sitting. Hoping no one noticed the slight, she chose another chair, as far from Lance Reddington as possible. With her eyes on the ridiculous debacle in front of her, Jamie waited for the fight to begin. And she prayed.

  Dylan wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Jamie’s white, strained face said she’d reached her limit of stress. And he’d personally reached his limit of machismo bullshit.

  As Reddington issued final instructions and preened like he was some sort of fight master, Dylan planned his strategy. Bruno was beefy, thick, and had probably cut his teeth on beating the shit out of people on the toughest streets in Spain. No way did he underestimate the man’s strength or skill.

  Speed was going to be Dylan’s secret weapon. Everything he did, every move he made and every word he spoke, indicated a slow-talking, laid-back man. What he’d learned as a child to keep from calling attention to himself and irritating his old man had paid off many times for him as an adult. By the time most people realized that they’d underestimated him, it was too late.

  Bruno had something more planned than what Reddington expected. Dylan had been around too long not to see that coming. Three times today, he’d spotted Armando and Bruno with their heads together. An unfortunate by-product of needing to get in Reddington’s good graces quickly had been to diminish Armando’s influence on his boss. No doubt the man was pissed and had asked Bruno to step up for him.

  Death wasn’t on either man’s mind. They wouldn’t want to anger their boss by killing Dylan. Especially since he was soon to be Lance Reddington’s tutor. But Dylan had a feeling that Bruno planned to get as rough as he could without crossing the fine line into murder.

  Reddington went out the cage door and shut it, then jumped from the platform. Dylan and Bruno nodded once at each other and began circling, looking for that first movement or any vulnerability. Dylan liked his opponent to go first, so he waited patiently, knowing the man would eventually give up and go for it.

  Surprisingly, Bruno was more patient than most. After the third full circle, Dylan did the one thing that always worked—he smiled. Worked like a charm. Bruno frowned, let out a low growl, and charged forward. Dylan swooped left, and Bruno ran past him and bounced against the cage wall.

  An unfortunate consequence of that move was the surprised laughter that always came from the onlookers and the subsequent rage of his opponent. With a roar, Bruno came after Dylan again. This time, Dylan leaned forward and ducked, causing the man to fall over him and land on his back. Recovering quickly, he came at Dylan again, slamming a brawny fist into Dylan’s face and then following it with a quick jab to his ribs. Blood spewed across the floor.

  Shaking off the sting, Dylan growled, “First blood. Feel good about it, asshole.”

  Bruno frowned as if a little disconcerted by his words, but Dylan didn’t give him time to wonder. With a series of punches, whirls, and kicks, he pummeled the man’s face, chest, and abdomen. Bruno grunted, stumbled, and dodged. Every time he missed one of Dylan’s hits, he caught another. After a succession of blows, Bruno was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and his eyes were looking decidedly glassy.

  The shouts from the men outside the cage were becoming louder and more boisterous. Knowing the audience wouldn’t be satisfied with such a brief performance, Dylan delivered another series of blows with his fists. Bruno’s only defense now was to hold his arms in front of himself and try to block the swift, stinging punches.

  Dazed, with blood flooding from his nose and drizzling out his mouth, Bruno wobbled. He was close to toppling over, but sheer stupidity kept him on his feet. To hell with it. He wasn’t going to incapacitate the man just to please a group of bloodthirsty assholes. Going for the knockout blow, with a quick twist, he kicked high, aiming for Bruno’s big head. Dylan saw the knife too late.

  The blade sliced across his torso and then dropped lower, catching his thigh. The pain would come later; for now, he took advantage of the extra adrenaline from the surge of anger at himself. Dammit, should’ve seen that coming.

  Dylan swung into the man’s gut, again and again, each successive strike harder and more measured. Though Bruno still held the knife, he did nothing with it other than grip it in his hand as he tried to protect himself from the punishing blows.

  And then it was time—Dylan went for excruciating agony. Kicking hard and quick, he jammed his foot deep into Bruno’s groin. The squeal the man released could probably be heard
all over the island. Bruno finally dropped the knife and grabbed his balls with both hands. Dylan took advantage and landed the knockout blow to his head. Bruno flew across the cage; his back slammed into the padded wall. His eyes rolling back, he slid halfway down and then dropped face-first onto the floor.

  With his breath rasping against his lungs, Dylan leaned against the other side of the cage and accessed his injuries. Bruises, a sore but not broken nose, a gash on his side, and an insignificant cut on his leg. He glanced down and was pleased to see that the slice on his side wasn’t as deep as he’d feared.

  A towel landed at his feet. Dylan looked up to see Reddington standing inside the cage, admiration and awe on his face. “Knives were strictly forbidden. He got in a couple of good slices and you still beat him.”

  Since the man’s approval was no longer necessary to his plan, Dylan ignored him as he grabbed the towel and pressed it against his torso wound. He needed to see how Jamie had fared.

  She was still in her chair. Her hands were gripped together so tight, even from this distance he could see the whites of her knuckles. What struck him the most was the calmness of her expression. And though her face was as pale as milk, he was damn proud of her composure.

  “Don’t just look,” Reddington urged. “Go to her. You won her fair and square.”

  The man’s permission to talk to Jamie meant only one thing to Dylan. She could leave the gym with him and no one would follow.

  Holding the towel at his bleeding side, Dylan went through the cage doors. He dropped down to the floor and made his way over to Jamie, who’d yet to move.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah … fine. I’ve got some bandages in my room.”

  She stood and, to his surprise, put her arm around him. “Lean on me.”

  A burst of laughter exploded behind him. Reddington. Apparently the man believed he was a real-life matchmaker.