Sweet Revenge (12 page)

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.

She 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.

Raphael was untrained in LCR ways, but using a bird’s name in his message seemed too coincidental not to consider. Each operative had to learn code words and phrases that said one thing and meant something else. If he was using Reddington’s computer to send the message, he had to know the man would read the email. Having a subscription to the magazine only helped it look like a credible message.

Problem was, the Canary Islands covered a damn big area. So until they received better intel or something more from Raphael, they continued to search for a man who seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

“We did get one bit of good news, though ‘good’ is a helluva description to use.”

Dylan sat up in his chair. “What’s that?”

“We think he’s going to be resuming business soon.”

“How do you know?”

“A few of our sources have heard that Reddington’s infamous market day is coming back.”

McCall was right: “good news” was a relative term here. If Reddington was headed back to his marketing-day sales, that meant he was back in the business of trading and selling humans.

“Any idea when?”

“Within the month.”

Hell
.

“How’s the training?”

“Other than her speed, she’s doing damn good. The weather has hindered the outside training.”

“Yeah, we’ve been hit hard here, too. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks.” Dylan looked out at the melting snow again; an odd desperation filled him. He was running out of time.

Jamie stretched and worked to loosen her muscles. She hadn’t run the course in days, but she felt more ready than she’d ever been before. During the last week, her strength and stamina had increased tremendously. Without a doubt, she would cut her time in half today.

With an expression even darker than usual, Dylan held his stopwatch in his hand and snapped, “Ready?”

Jamie concentrated her full focus on the course ahead of her, then shouted, “Ready!”

“Go!”

She took off. The very air seeming to give her an extra lift, she leaped over wooden hurdles, one after the other. Dropping to her hands and knees, she tunneled through a short tube and then sprang to her feet. Her concentration fierce, she ran to the sand trap, grabbed hold of the rope, and swung over the oblong area. With barely a pause to land, she leaped over two more hurdles, ran through tires, and then climbed over a short wall. Landing on the other side, her breath coming in controlled pants, she looked up in triumph at Dylan. She already knew she’d made great time.

“Ninety-eight seconds.”

Delight filled her. “Really? That’s even better than I thought it was.”

“It’s better. Still not good enough.”

“Well, at least give me credit for almost cutting my time in half.”

His gaze cutting like green glass, he snarled, “You think Reddington’s going to say, ‘Hey, Jamie, you impressed me so much with your speed, I won’t kill you’?”

Her hands went to her hips. “Dammit, I thought my goal here was to improve my speed. The least you can do is say something positive before you get so hateful.”