Sweet Reward (40 page)

One minute later, they met in the middle of the living room. The loud protestations coming from the front of the house reassured them that the home owner would be occupied for several more moments.

His black eyes glittering with cold determination, McCall mouthed silently, “Anything?”

Dylan shook his head.

Both men turned and headed up the stairway. Halting at the top of the stairs, they assessed the area. Bright lights from the first floor allowed them to see three
rooms to check on this floor. McCall jerked his head at the stairs to the third floor.

With a quick nod, Dylan headed upstairs. At the top of the small landing, he stopped and listened. The only sounds were the distant mumblings of Reddington as he argued with the Spanish police. Two rooms to check here. The door to one of the rooms stood open. Easing his head in, he looked around. A storage room, filled with furniture and boxes.

Swiftly, silently, Dylan moved across the hallway, toward the closed door of the other room. His ear to the wood, he listened and heard a soft, trembling sigh.

He put his hand on the doorknob. Locked. Pulling a small tool from the belt at his waist, he inserted it into the keyhole. At the sweet sound of a click, he twisted the knob, eased the door open, and stepped inside. The room, midnight dark and deathly quiet, held the musky scent of sour sweat and felt heavy with fear, confirming what he already knew: she was here.

The softest whisper of sound put him on alert; half a second later, a small body leaped onto his back. Not wanting to hurt or frighten her further, Dylan dropped to the floor with Jamie Kendrick hanging on to his shoulders.

She ground her knee into the small of his back and spoke in a harsh, raspy voice, “Touch me and I’ll kill you.”

Admiration and compassion slammed into him. She was tough. Good. She would need to stay that way. “I’m here to rescue you, Jamie.”

With a soft, laughing sob, she said mockingly, “Yeah, my knight in shining armor.”

“I’m with Last Chance Rescue.”

After a long pause, she whispered hoarsely, “What’s that?”

“A rescue organization.”

Another long pause. Finally, a shaky, tear-filled voice asked, “Are you for real?”

“Yes.” He waited two heartbeats, giving her time to absorb the information. Then, since time was of the essence, he said, “We need to get out of here.”

Her slight weight eased off his back, and he felt her shift away from him.

Getting to his feet, Dylan took a flashlight from his utility belt and clicked it on. His heart thudded and crashed as he got his first glimpse of slender, petite Jamie Kendrick. Perched on the edge of a bed, she’d snagged a sheet to cover herself. Untamed, golden-brown hair draped over her bare shoulders. Gray-blue eyes shimmered with tears; white teeth bit at her lips as if to control their trembling. The thin sheet covering her nude body couldn’t hide her uncontrollable shaking. Despite his reassurance, she was terrified that this was a trick.

“Found her,” he whispered softly into his mic.

“Get her out,” McCall answered softly. “Reddington’s still at the door, arguing. I’ve got one bastard down, two more on the run.”

“Affirmative,” Dylan answered.

There was no time for more reassurance. They needed to get their asses out of here … now. He took a step toward her. “Let’s go.”

She lifted a hand to tighten the sheet around her, and he saw the handcuff dangling from her wrist. Pulling a standard key from his belt, he reached for her. Admiration grew in him as he watched her stiffen but refuse to back away. He unlocked the cuff from her bruised, raw wrist and then let her go. The last thing she probably wanted was for a man to touch her. Unfortunately, he was going to have to do more than just touch her if they were to get out of here in one piece.

With a sweep of his flashlight over the room, Dylan took another quick scan. No clothing. He pulled his black cotton T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Put this on.” Giving her a brief moment of privacy, he went to the door to peer out. Still quiet.

At the sound of a small, relieved sigh, he glanced over his shoulder. She was ready. Her feet were bare, and her body swayed as she tried to stand. The T-shirt swallowed her, landing just above her wobbling knees.

“It’ll be easier for both of us if you let me carry you out.” He wasn’t asking for permission, but he didn’t want to scare her by just lifting her without warning.

“I can walk.”

“You’re barefoot and weak. We need to get out of here as fast as we can.” Giving her no time to argue, Dylan reached for her and scooped her into his arms. Her body was shaking with terror, but she didn’t fight him, and that was all he needed.

He made a rapid exit from the room and strode quickly toward the stairway. As they got halfway down the stairs, the distant blast of gunfire ramped up the tension.
Shit!
No way was he not getting her out of here alive. Holding her tighter against his chest, he whispered, “Hang on, sweetheart.”

Lowering his head, Dylan ran like hell.