Sweet Revenge (20 page)

sixteen

Reddington’s island

A gurgle of laughter brought a smile to Jamie’s face. How could she have forgotten how much she loved teaching? Even though there was another purpose for being here, having an opportunity to teach Amelia Reddington was still a delight.

She tried not to think about what this precious child was going to suffer once her father went to prison. Dwelling on that would do no good. The man had to be stopped.

Though she’d been on the island for only a week, from what she could tell, Reddington’s family knew nothing about his illegal endeavors. Which really shouldn’t be a surprise, since they were cloistered and isolated from the rest of the world. How did they stand the remoteness? Jamie had never considered herself a world traveler, but at least she had a choice. Reddington’s family was well taken care of and given every luxury. But the beauty of their surroundings didn’t negate the fact that they were prisoners.

Giselle, Reddington’s seventeen-year-old daughter, was as delightful as her sister. Seemingly content with her life, the young woman acted as if there was nothing odd in not being allowed to leave the island, even for a day of shopping.

In talking to the teen, she learned that she and her mother perused catalogs and magazines; whatever they wanted was purchased. Deliveries were made once a week, and she had been encouraged to order whatever she wanted, too.

Jamie had nodded and made appreciative comments, knowing that if she said the wrong thing, she’d be in a world of trouble.

None of this was really her business. She was here to find the information she needed to bring this man down, not bring the twenty-first century to the island. Technology wasn’t necessarily a good thing, and the children probably were better read for not having the distraction of computer games and cellphones. At some point, though, they would have to join the world. What kind of future would they face when they’d had no exposure to prepare them?

She glanced over at Amelia. The child was deep into a Junie B. Jones adventure. That series had been one of Jamie’s favorites as a kid. After Amelia finished, they had plans to walk on the beach and discuss the story.

So far, she’d been consumed with her job and had done nothing to advance her agenda on obtaining what she’d come here to get. She and Reddington had seen each other twice. Once when she’d first arrived; and the second time had been two nights ago. She had taken a walk on the beach and entered the house from a side patio. He’d been walking down the hallway and had looked directly at her. It had been all Jamie could do not to freeze up, terrified that he would somehow recognize her. Instead, she had smiled and said a soft good night. Reddington had grunted and kept on going.

Soon she would face the real test. Jamie usually ate dinner in her room, but Mrs. Reddington had stopped by the classroom this morning and invited her to have dinner with the family on Friday night. She would not only be within a few feet of Reddington; she would have to carry on a conversation with him.

Added to that worry was Raphael. So far, Jamie had seen only glimpses of him, but he was sure to be at the dinner. Would either of the men recognize her? Why was Raphael even here? Was he working for LCR, working on his own, or had Reddington managed to turn a decent kid into a fiend like him?

No, from what Noah had told her, Raphael had been dealt more than his share of hard breaks. Not only that, he had assisted in her rescue. There was no way he’d turned to the dark side.

But from what she remembered, Noah had strongly encouraged him to stay out of LCR business. So he was doing this on his own?

Jamie was struck with indecision. She’d been so focused on being the lone person to find the information, she wasn’t sure what to do now. Should she continue to keep her identity to herself or should she try to get Raphael alone and see if they could work together?

At that thought, she immediately pulled back. Revealing herself could open up a chasm she wouldn’t be able to close. Even worse, she could wind up putting the young man in danger. She had come prepared for the risk; the last thing she wanted was to involve someone else.

What more did LCR know about Reddington’s location? McKenna had told her that LCR would never give up. Pain squeezed her chest when she thought about what she was keeping from her sister. Would McKenna ever forgive her?

After leaving the cabin that spring morning, Jamie had set her plan into motion. It had taken her three hours to get to the airport in Charlottesville. She’d spent much of that time on the phone, getting in touch with people she’d put off contacting. Okay, admittedly, the first half hour had been spent crying and cursing Dylan. But by the time she was at a lower elevation, she had recovered. She had survived worse than a broken heart. When she’d pulled into the airport parking lot, most of her plans had been in place.

The toughest part of all was visiting McKenna in Paris and telling her that she was no longer intent on going after Reddington and, instead, wanted to return to the States and find a job. The dead silence after she dropped that bombshell had her almost spilling everything. But she couldn’t do that. If she revealed her plans to McKenna, not only would her sister be horrified, but she’d tell Noah and Dylan, and then everything Jamie had done would have been for nothing.

Once this was over, once she had accomplished her goals, she would apologize and ask for forgiveness.

“Are you all right?”

Jamie jerked her head up to see a sympathetic and worried Amelia standing in front of her.

Stretching her mouth into her best fake smile, she said, “I’m fine. Did you finish your book?”

“Did someone hurt your feelings?”

Jamie jerked at the question. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you were crying.”

Touching her face, Jamie felt the tears she hadn’t known were falling from her eyes. Great, just what she didn’t need—questions about her stability.

She took a breath. Well, she had a cover, and it was time to put it to good use. “I guess I was just thinking about my husband.”

Looking wiser than her eight years, Amelia nodded. “Mama told me your husband went to heaven.”

Tears blurred her eyes again. How ridiculous—now she was about to start sobbing over her fake husband? Thankful for the box of tissues on her desk, she quickly dried her eyes and blew her nose. Then she smiled again, this time for real. “He’s in a much better place, so I shouldn’t be sad about that.” She gestured at the book in the girl’s hand. “Did you enjoy your book?”

In a flash, the wise look was replaced with an impish eight-year-old sassiness. “I wish I could get away with some of the things Junie gets away with.”

Jamie laughed. “I think your mother might have some issues with that.” Standing, she looked down at her watch. “Why don’t you change into your play clothes and meet me on the east patio in about twenty minutes. We’ll walk on the beach and talk about the problems Junie could avoid if she wasn’t so mischievous.”

With an enthusiastic nod of agreement, Amelia turned and, feet flying, ran out the door.

Jamie leaned against the edge of the desk and bit her lip. She hadn’t planned on liking Reddington’s family, but other than the man himself, his family was hard not to love. Sarah Reddington was obviously devoted to her children, and though she had a no-nonsense approach to Amelia’s education, she also had a gentle humor and a quiet dignity Jamie couldn’t help but admire.

Giselle was lovely and kind, Amelia was a delight, and the other child, a little boy named Eric, was a chubby, happy three-year-old.

To an outsider, the Reddingtons looked like the ideal family. And if it wasn’t for the vile side business Jamie was all too aware of, Stanford Reddington would appear to be the epitome of a devoted husband and father. His ideas about keeping his family isolated and cocooned from the world might seem to be merely the whims of an overprotective and eccentric millionaire.

But Jamie did know the truth. Reddington had isolated his family on this island for one reason only: to keep the truth from them. As much as she’d hate to see their disillusionment and hurt when that reality was revealed, Jamie knew she had no choice. Even now, the man was abducting and selling people who’d done nothing wrong other than be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Her course was set. She would do everything she could to minimize the family’s pain, but she refused to back down. Stanford Reddington would pay and, hopefully, so would his vile, disgusting son.

With her chin back up in the air and her determination reestablished, Jamie headed to her room to change. After their walk, it would be naptime for Amelia. Which meant it would be the perfect time to begin her search.

Madrid

Engulfed in his sumptuous leather recliner, Stanford puffed on his treasured cigar and waited for the sale to begin. How he had missed this aspect of his business. Now, after months of lying low and keeping a diligent eye out for any possible infiltrators into his private affairs, it was time to resume life as usual.

Though the auctions had started up again last month, Stanford had kept himself away. That had been a test. Were anyone watching and waiting, they would have pounced at that time. Instead, the sales had gone through without any problems or concerns.

The danger had passed. Now it was time to make up for lost revenue.

After the sale, Armando wanted to introduce him to a young man named John Wheeler he claimed he was mentoring. When Stanford had heard about him, his radar had gone on high alert. What better way for the LCR organization to get to him than to sneak one of their own into his organization?

Armando had fiercely denied the possibility. The young man had proven himself over and over. Had brought excellent merchandise to the market. Seemed to have a flair for determining quality and price. The other night, he had passed a test Armando always insisted on giving, and from the sound of it, Wheeler had been able to handle himself quite well. Having Armando’s respect wasn’t an easy accomplishment. However, the most important thing, at least from Stanford’s perspective, was that the young man understood the flesh market.

The endorsement of his trusted employee meant a lot. Armando had been with him for years and had shown his loyalty time and again. However, taking a new man into his organization was too important to leave to chance. Stanford had hired his most trusted investigator and, yesterday, had received a detailed report. When Stanford had read about Wheeler’s impressive background, he’d had to admit that this man might well be a solid addition to his staff.

Cautious to a fault, Stanford would reserve final judgment until he met the young man in person. He would see it in the man’s eyes, his demeanor. If Wheeler lived up to the hype, Stanford would offer him permanent employment, along with a substantial salary.

A slight noise below pulled him back to the present. His anticipation zoomed once more. Though he sampled the merchandise only occasionally, he always felt rejuvenated after a successful auction. Sarah had often been the recipient of his fired up libido. By the time he made it home to her, he would be almost overwhelmed with need. Stanford smiled. Even his wife benefited from his business.

The first piece of merchandise appeared. Dressed in plain white cotton underwear and nothing more, she wore an expression of abject terror. Stanford ignored that. Her emotions weren’t his concern. Eyeing her up and down, he accessed in a few short seconds what she could bring and which of his business associates would be most interested.

With a slight hand gesture, Stanford indicated that she should be led off the stage. After jotting detailed notes in his journal, he took another puff from his cigar and waited for the next item to appear. Yes, it was definitely good to be back at work.

Dylan stood back, away from the sad line of terrified humans waiting their turn. The stomach-churning scene was beyond nightmarish. There were twenty of them, mostly women of varying ages, and all petrified.

Even though this was the third of Reddington’s auction he’d attended, the inhumane and sheer vulgarity of the event wasn’t something he could just take in stride. Besides, the big man himself was in the audience today, which apparently meant a bigger production.

Instead of parading a line of people through a small room as before, Armando had set this auction up like an audition. A small staging area was used to prepare each person; then, one by one, the “merchandise,” as Dylan had heard them referred to so many times, was told to walk out onto a platform.

Reddington was apparently in the darkened area below, invisible to everyone, but the stench of his cigar wafted through the air.

Dylan wanted to jump down into that area and get it over with. Never had he wanted to kill anyone so much. Even as much as he’d hated his father, he’d never felt this way about another human being.

This was the man Jamie had wanted to go after. The sheer gutsiness of the woman would forever amaze him. He was just damn glad she’d seen the ridiculousness of her plan. While he had deep regrets and enormous guilt for all that had transpired, at least she was safe.

“Stop it! Don’t touch me, you bastard!”

His entire body clenched with the effort to maintain his cover as he watched a woman, probably in her early twenties and obviously terrified, fight back as one of the men shoved her forward.

No visible bruises were allowed. Armando had informed him that Reddington reviled damaged flesh. If discipline or punishment was required, it had to be done without leaving marks. As Dylan watched, the man who’d pushed her forward grabbed a wad of her hair and pulled hard as he spoke into her ear. Whether it was from the pain or from the man’s words, Dylan didn’t know, but the woman’s face went paper white. Nodding her head in quick, jerky motions, she turned awkwardly and walked out onto the platform.

Watching her, the man grinned his satisfaction.

Unable to do anything but stand by as this took place was, by far, the toughest part of Dylan’s assignment. He could save these people right now. Doubting his abilities didn’t even come into question. As usual, when he entered a room, he immediately looked for weapons. Today had been no different. Not far away was a two-by-four piece of wood. Within a minute, maybe less, the three men back here with him would be incapacitated or dead and the hell these people faced would never be realized.

Gripping the post he was leaning on, Dylan held himself back. Rescuing these people would feel good in the short term, but what about all the others that had been sold over the years? The ones that only Reddington’s records could reveal?

No, they’d come too far to end this here. But soon Reddington, Armando, and the whole band of perverts would know exactly how their victims had felt. Then, and only then, could justice be served.

“You ready to meet the man?”

With his game face back on, Dylan turned to a grinning Armando. Hell, the guy looked like a proud papa about to parade his son in front of his boss. His nod cool, his expression arrogant, Dylan followed the older man down the stairs to where Reddington sat. The sounds of sobbing and human suffering grew dimmer with each step. The goods had been assessed and priced. A more formal auction of the best “merchandise” would be held tomorrow. The rest of the group would go to various people to be sold again or used in any way their new owners wanted. Just another day in the busy and lucrative life of a human trafficker.

Reddington sat in the darkness. Even as Dylan and Armando approached, the man did nothing to reveal himself. He was a dim shadow, and other than his head full of silver hair, which caught any available light, he was almost invisible.

“Sit down.” The man had an impressively deep and cultured voice, almost as if he were theatrically trained. Dylan dropped into a chair and waited.

“Armando seems to think a lot of you.”

Until he was asked a direct question, Dylan preferred to maintain his silence. Talking without being asked a direct question could show a lack of control or an eagerness to please. Still, he’d have to walk a fine line … an appearance of arrogance could well backfire and get him killed.

There was a long pause, most likely to test his control. Dylan waited.

“You have an impressive résumé.”

Since Dylan hadn’t supplied Reddington with one, he could only assume the investigation Reddington had done on him had checked out. Score one for LCR cover stories.

When Dylan didn’t reply again, Armando shifted restlessly beside him. The man was probably getting nervous, but Dylan had seen too many controlling bastards to let Reddington fluster him.

Reddington finally asked a question: “Why do you want to work for me?”

“Money,” Dylan replied.

“That’s the only thing that drives you?”

“I have skills suited to the business. I’m good at what I do.”

“Such as …?”

“I know quality and value when I see it. And I know how to obtain it without getting caught.”

The silver head bobbled with a nod. “Important skills, to be sure.”

Again Dylan maintained his silence.

“Why do you want to work for me?”

Dylan shrugged. “You’re the best.”

“Have you worked for anyone else?”

“No.”

“Elaborate,” Reddington snapped.

“I’ve worked for myself for the last few years. Grabbing a tasty piece here and there, making a nice profit. I had several regular customers with specific needs. They would come only to me because they knew I could provide what they wanted.”

“What changed?”

“I was getting some heat back in the States. Thought a change of scenery would be best. One good sale can last me a few months, but I like the idea of a steady income.”

“Armando indicated that you refused to go hunting the other day. You do understand that this is a requirement of your employment. Correct?”

Dylan didn’t bother to offer an explanation of why he had refused Armando. “I’ve got no problem with that.”

“What kind of cut do you want?”

“Fifty percent on what I bring you. Ten percent of the total day’s earnings.”

“Armando doesn’t even make that.” There was amusement in the man’s voice.

“Maybe he should.”

Armando gasped beside him, and Dylan almost smiled. Would Reddington think Armando had put him up to complaining about his pay? It’d be nice if Reddington got rid of Armando before Dylan had to.

“Armando,” Reddington asked silkily, “are you unhappy with your wages?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t know why—”

Reddington cut him off. “Very well, Mr. Wheeler. Fifty percent of what you supply and ten percent of the day’s earnings.”

Careful to reveal no triumph over the man’s concession to his terms, Dylan nodded his acknowledgment. But still, he waited. Reddington wasn’t going to be this easy to win over.

“Has Armando mentioned that I have special clients?”

Surprised but not about to show it, Dylan just shook his head. Armando had shared a lot but hadn’t mentioned specific clients.

“I have a request from one of these clients. They’re very generous, so I do all I can to provide for their needs.” A piece of paper was thrust out of the dark, in front of Dylan. “My client’s order. Fulfill it by the end of the week and there will be a bonus.”

Shit. The client was ordering a specific kind of female, the way a normal person might order a meal. Dylan didn’t glance at the list. That would give the impression that he had doubts that he could deliver everything Reddington wanted. He slid the paper into his pants pocket.

Reddington was once again silent. The interview was over, but Dylan knew the man was still testing and accessing.

“I’m giving a little dinner party at my home on the eighteenth. Why don’t you join us?”

Another test? Or was this invitation because he’d passed the test? Was Reddington on to him and wanted to get him alone? No, that made no sense. The man would have no problem blowing his brains out right here. This was the opportunity they’d wanted.

Determined not to show any emotion or eagerness at the invitation, Dylan shook his head. “Thanks, I already have plans.”

“Break them.”

Dylan allowed a small flare of anger to show, but only briefly. After several seconds, he nodded again.

“Excellent. We’ll get to know each other in a much less formal setting. I’m assuming Armando has filled you in about my family?”

Yeah, that had been one of the first things he’d learned and probably the first thing that had surprised him. “Yes. They don’t get involved in your business.”

“Exactly. No business, ever, is to be discussed around them. Understand?”

Sensing that this meant more to Reddington than just about anything, Dylan nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” The silver head turned to Armando. “You have done well, my friend.”

Beaming like a proud father, Armando said, “Thank you, sir.”

Armando stood, and Dylan took his cue and got to his feet. Surprisingly, Reddington stood as well. He held out his hand and shook Dylan’s in a hard, firm shake. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

“And I you.”

With those words, Dylan turned and walked away. He was more than aware that both men stared at him until he was out of the building. Knowing that eyes could be anywhere, at any time, he maintained his demeanor even as he jumped onto a city bus. He didn’t know where it was headed, and he didn’t care. The most important thing was to get away from that place.

Late afternoon meant a bus full of people heading home from work, their minds on what to have for dinner, how their kids’ or spouse’s day had gone, or maybe a television show they were looking forward to watching. Normal people going about their everyday lives and most never realizing that garbage such as Stanford Reddington lived within their midst. He was a well-known and widely respected businessman here in Madrid, envied and admired by many. Little did the city’s residents know that beneath the polish and the sophisticated façade lurked a soul-deep filth.

Crammed into a tight space, Dylan paid little attention to the chattering voices around him as he reviewed every sentence and undertone from the meeting. His undercover story of sleaze and corruption had held up. LCR had some of the best cover-building people in the business. Within hours, any operative could be anyone. Still, with Reddington being on higher alert than most, Dylan had wondered if there would be trouble.

The only hiccup had been the specific request. That was new information. Would Reddington have these clients’ names written down? Dylan cursed silently. They were banking so damn much on Reddington’s records. With Noah’s intel that the man was anal about record keeping and the information Jamie had gleaned, getting to those accounts was their best bet for nailing the bastard.

The prosecutor’s hands were tied without proof, and though the information would be obtained outside the norm, with those records in hand, they’d have a good chance of not only shutting the bastard down and putting him behind bars but finding all of the people he’d sold through the years.