Sweet Revenge (23 page)

Reddington’s island

Raphael sat on his favorite lookout point on the island. The rocky point jutted toward the water as if reaching out its hand, searching. He kind of knew how it felt. After months on the island, he found himself wondering if he’d ever see civilization again.

His only bright spot had been the time he’d spent with Giselle. He knew he was young to be making a major decision about wanting to spend the rest of his life with a woman, but what he lacked in age, he more than made up for in experience. Having been on his own since he was thirteen years old, he’d been around long enough to know what he wanted. Giselle was it for him.

An ache grew in his chest—a permanent affliction, he feared. Even if her father hadn’t been a low-life human trafficker, her brother a first-rate creep, and Raphael himself working to destroy part of her family, what future could he offer? He had no money. Giselle had grown up on her own island, and though she’d been deprived of many advantages, material things hadn’t been one of them.

Besides that, he was probably the first guy she’d been around. Aside from her family, the only other people on the island were servants, and the youngest man was at least fifty. Was it any wonder she’d fallen for Raphael?

He had a sick suspicion that Reddington had brought him here specifically for Giselle. The question was, why? A test of Raphael’s willpower and loyalty? Or was it something even more sinister? Had he been brought here as a match for Giselle? Was her father choosing him as her future husband? Under ordinary circumstances, he’d say no man would do something like that, but there wasn’t anything ordinary about Reddington. He was so used to manipulating people and controlling his family, choosing his daughter’s future husband probably seemed normal.

Reddington would be arriving tomorrow, and time was running out for all of them. Not only had he and Jamie come up empty in their search, Raphael had a feeling that the man would be asking questions about his daughter Raphael didn’t want to answer. Would Reddington come out and ask him point-blank to marry Giselle? What if he said no? Would the man let him leave? Alive?

The crunch of rocks barely gave him a warning before a soft, slender hand touched his shoulder. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

He turned and smiled. “You were so immersed in your book, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Books can always wait.” She sat down beside him and laid her head against his shoulder. “You know I always have time for you.”

Shifting slightly away so he could look at her, he asked, “What do you want out of life, Giselle?”

Her eyes flickered briefly away from him before she returned her gaze to his and gave him her sweet smile. “That’s a very weighty question for such a beautiful day.”

“What do you dream of? Do you ever think about going to college? Having a career? Doing something besides living here and reading about the world? Don’t you want to see it, explore it?”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I used to dream of that every day, but no more.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s no point. My father has made it clear that this is my life. I must accept and enjoy it. I have no other option.”

This was the first time she’d confided that to him. “Did he say why?”

She shook her head and looked away, her eyes on the horizon. Even in her profile, he could see the longing. “I learned very early in life not to question my father. I know that he loves me and believes he is doing what he thinks is best.”

She turned back to him. “That’s why he brought you here.”

His heart pounded harder. Even though he’d figured that out, albeit too late, hearing her actually confirm his thoughts stunned him. “What do you mean?”

“Papa married Mama when she was very young. When Papa told me you were coming, I knew his reasons. I was so worried about what you would be like. If you would be mean and nasty. But you were even more than I could have hoped for.”

Raphael surged to his feet. “I’m not a pet, Giselle. I came here with the intent to learn your father’s business, not find a wife.”

She got to her feet. “So you feel nothing for me?”

“I didn’t say that, but I damn well like to make my own decisions. Being led around by my dick is not my idea of a good time.”

She flinched at his crude language. Any other time, he’d be appalled that he’d dare to speak to her like this, but her confession had blown him to bits. Hell, she was as manipulative as her father, and he’d never even seen it.

“Tell your father to find you another man.” He turned and started down the path, back to the house. “I’m not for sale.”

“Raphael … wait! Please! I’m sorry!”

Fury, humiliation, and a deep crushing hurt forced his body forward. There was nothing she could say that would make this any better. The best thing he could do was find a way off the island. Now, if only—

Giselle screamed and then was silent.

Raphael turned around. She was no longer there. Where had she … God. No! With his heart thundering for a new reason, he rushed to where she’d been standing and looked down. She was about fifteen feet below, on a rocky ledge. Facedown, she wasn’t moving.

Scrambling down, he reached her in seconds. There was barely enough room for one person on the ledge; squeezing in a second was almost impossible. Standing on the edge, he whispered, “Giselle?”

“Raphael,” she whispered back, “I’m hurt.”

The relief he felt as he heard her speak almost made him tip over. He’d thought she was dead. Still unable to see her face, he asked, “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere, but mostly my right leg.”

“Stay still. I’m going to see if you have any broken bones.” Running his hands up and down her slender body, he felt no protrusions until he reached her right leg. It was broken in at least two places.

He looked up from where she’d fallen. The distance seemed insurmountable, yet he had no choice but to carry her up. “I’m going to turn you onto your back and then put you on my shoulder. It’s going to hurt, but it’s the only way I can get you up.”

“Okay.”

The trusting tone in that one word almost made him cry. He’d caused all of this by his cruelty. Easing her over, he noted that she had two bloody scratches on her face and her arm was bleeding. She hissed in pain, and his heart wrenched. He would soon be causing her even more pain.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try my best not to hurt you.”

Though tears glinted in her eyes, she gave him a shaky smile, and it was all Raphael could do not to kiss her. Lifting her gently, he put her over his shoulder. “Okay?”

“Yes. It’s fine.”

“Okay, here we go,
querida
. Nice and easy.”

She whimpered just twice as he climbed his way up the craggy rock. He knew she was probably being quiet for his benefit, but he almost wished she were screaming and spitting mad at him. Instead she was suffering in silence.

Finally on level ground, he eased her off his shoulder, sat her on a rock, and squatted down to look up at her. “How are you?”

Biting her lip, she shook her head in reply. Tears streamed down her face, which was almost ghost white … she could very well go into shock if he didn’t get help soon. Standing, Raphael lifted her into his arms and started running toward the mansion.

Jamie was on the patio with Amelia when she heard Raphael shout for help. She jumped up and peered over the shrubbery. The instant she saw him with Giselle in his arms, she looked down at Amelia. “Sweetie, would you run upstairs and see if your mother can come down for a minute? And then why don’t you read a few chapters in your new book.”

Her eyes wide, Amelia nodded and took off. The instant she disappeared, Jamie ran down the steps of the patio toward Raphael. Reaching them in seconds, she asked, “What happened?”

“She fell. Her leg’s broken.”

The pain on Giselle’s face was reflected in Raphael’s. Since she couldn’t help him carry her, she ran beside them, whispering encouragement to Giselle.

They reached the patio just as Sarah Reddington came through the door. “Giselle!”

Raphael placed the girl on a lounge chair. His breathing labored, he said, “We need to get her to a hospital.”

Sarah was on her knees beside her daughter. When she heard Raphael’s words, she looked up at him, panic on her face. “But she can’t leave.”

Touching the woman’s arm gently, Jamie said, “She has to, Sarah. She needs medical attention.”

“I’ll get Joseph. He has first aid training. I’m sure—”

Horrified but knowing that showing it wouldn’t help the situation, she took the older woman’s hand. “First aid training isn’t going to be enough. She might need surgery. She has to go to a hospital.”

Visibly collecting herself, Sarah nodded and stood. “You’re right. I just …” Another panicked look and then: “There’s a boat, beneath the pool house floor. Stanford said for emergencies only.”

Jamie nodded. “This definitely qualifies.”

With the decision made, Sarah went into action. “I’ll get Joseph to help you carry her, Raphael.” She disappeared into the house, and within minutes she returned with Joseph. His cold eyes questioning, he examined Giselle’s leg. Then standing, his face even harder, he nodded. “Let’s go.”

While Joseph and Raphael carried Giselle to the pool house, Jamie ran upstairs to pack a small overnight bag for her, assuming that Sarah Reddington would be packing her own bag.

Unsurprised that she couldn’t find a suitcase in the girl’s room, Jamie ran to her own bedroom and grabbed one of her small duffel bags. Shoving Giselle’s clothes, shoes, and toiletries inside, she zipped it up and raced down the stairs.

When she got to the pier, Giselle was lying on a wooden bench, her head in her mother’s lap. Jamie dropped the bag beside them and then, as nonchalantly as possible, walked over and peeked into the pool house. Her heart thudded in excitement as she watched Joseph produce a shiny black speedboat from beneath the floor. The instant he started it up, Jamie stepped away.

Seconds later, the boat appeared beside the pier. Raphael stepped down into it and spoke with Joseph, their voices low and serious.

Jamie stooped down beside Giselle, who was white-faced from the pain. She gave the girl an encouraging smile and then looked up at Sarah Reddington. “I’ll make sure Amelia and Eric are fine. I—”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m not going.”

Hiding her surprise was impossible. “But you’ll need to give permission if she needs surgery. I can take care of the children until—”

The woman shook her head emphatically. “No, I can’t leave. Raphael has my permission to tell them he’s her husband. He can sign for anything that needs to be done.”

Though stunned at the woman’s decision, Jamie would say no more. As Joseph gently lifted Giselle into his arms and placed her on the cushioned bench on the boat, Jamie turned to catch Raphael’s attention and gave him a telling look. She hoped to heaven he understood what the look meant. She wanted him to get away and stay away. Joseph could handle Giselle’s return to the island; this might be Raphael’s only chance to escape. He had to take it.

As the boat moved away from the dock, Jamie stood with Sarah and watched it pick up speed and move away.

“The closest island is La Rosa, about thirty miles away,” Sarah said. “They have a hospital there. Amelia had to have her tonsils removed when she was four. Stanford said they took good care of her … they’ll take good care of Giselle.”

The admission that Sarah hadn’t been at her four-year-old daughter’s side when she’d had her tonsils removed was probably unintentional. Still, Jamie was unable to keep her mouth shut. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

Her mouth trembling, tears sparkling in her eyes, Sarah shook her head. “I just can’t.” Turning, she began a slow walk toward the house, moving like an elderly woman; her usually energetic and quick steps were now sluggish and halting.

Jamie’s eyes stayed on Sarah Reddington until the woman disappeared from view. How had she missed the unhappiness and misery of Reddington’s wife? She had thought the woman content with her seclusion and isolation. It had been hard to look at the agony in the older woman’s eyes and not offer some kind of comfort.

When Jamie had arrived here, she’d thought she would be the only person on the island hiding behind a façade. Now, seeing Sarah Reddington’s pain, she began to wonder how many more secrets the Reddingtons were keeping.

twenty

Twenty hours after they started their journey, Reddington’s yacht docked at his private island. Dylan stood on the deck and watched their destination come closer. LCR’s theory had been right: Reddington’s hideaway was in the Canary Islands. He hadn’t been sure until a couple of hours ago. Hell, they’d been on a plane, a speedboat, and a yacht. Much of his travel time, he’d been inside. Fortunately, he’d managed to walk outside at the right time and had recognized an island he knew all too well. A few years back, he’d had a harrowing mission in Tenerife. Seeing that familiar terrain in the distance, Dylan had felt a small measure of relief that he at least knew their approximate location.

Now that they had arrived, he realized their travel time had been extended considerably and much of the route had been a diversionary tactic. One of the many ways Reddington made sure he was never followed. And though Dylan didn’t know for sure, he could almost bet that the man changed his routes every so often to ensure his location could never be pinpointed.
Wily bastard
.

Reddington had made himself scarce on the trip, apparently spending most of his time in his suite. About an hour before arrival, he’d asked to see Dylan. After offering him a drink, which Dylan declined, the man gave him a final warning about his family and some interesting news: “I keep my personal life and my business life separate. On my island, my family is protected from the world and all its evil. I intend to keep it that way.”

Dylan issued his usual nod and blank stare. The fact that Reddington wanted to protect his family from evil when the man himself personified the concept was laughable. And unless the Reddingtons lived without computers, television, or any kind of news medium, they had to know what he’d been accused of last year. Of course, he’d been able to buy his way out of trouble, so convincing his loving family that he was innocent should have been no problem.

Reddington continued: “My wife’s birthday is in a few days, and tomorrow a special gift is being delivered to her. My son has been away for several months, but he’s flying in just for her party. While he’s here, I’d like you to spend some time with him.”

Oh, hell yeah, he wanted to spend some time with the bastard. Dylan raised his brow in inquiry. “And the reason?”

“You have natural talent. My father didn’t train me as well as he could have because he relied only on his own expertise. Because of that, it took me years to learn the business. I don’t intend to make the same mistake. I want you to tutor Lance, teaching him what you know.”

That comment, probably more than any others Reddington had made, surprised Dylan. The man’s ego seemed too large to admit this. On the other hand, making a profit at business was important to him. Apparently that trumped ego.

“I’m assuming I get some sort of tutoring fee?”

“Twenty-five thousand and a small additional bonus.”

“Such as?”

“At our next auction, you may have your choice of merchandise.”

“Fifty thousand and two pieces of merchandise.”

“Two?”

Dylan nodded. “Fine. Two it is.”

That had ended the conversation, and Dylan had been allowed to leave. Now, as he leaned against the railing and waited for the yacht to dock, he watched a handful of people gather on the pier. He saw a dark-haired woman standing with two young children and assumed they were Reddington’s family.

Other than the illegal and sleazy side, LCR knew little about the Reddington’s life. His marriage license and his children’s birth records, normal documentation, had been covered and buried so well, the man could have dozens of children and they’d never know. Lance Reddington was the only one they were sure about.

The woman holding a small child waved, and the other child, a little girl, jumped up and down excitedly. A nice homecoming for any man, and one this man definitely didn’t deserve.

As soon as the walkway was lowered, Reddington stepped onto the pier and wrapped his arms around his wife. Then he turned and picked up the little girl and swung her around. She squealed with glee, just like any young child delighted to see her father. Poor kid was soon going to have her whole world torn apart.

Stepping out onto the dock, Dylan stood at a respectful distance. Though he couldn’t hear the words, Reddington and his wife were whispering furiously with each other. In an abrupt move, Reddington grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her down the pier, toward the large mansion on the hillside.

The crestfallen expression on the little girl’s face made Dylan want to say something to her. He couldn’t, of course. He watched her chin quiver, and then she turned and followed slowly behind her parents.

Dylan’s gaze moved back toward the couple, who were almost running toward the mansion now. Reddington’s hand was still wrapped around his wife’s arm, and the child she held, a little boy of about three, was sobbing. Whatever had set Reddington off must’ve been major. He’d never seen the man behave so erratically.

“We’d better lie low for a while. Looks like there’s trouble.”

Dylan kept his eyes on the Reddingtons until they disappeared from view, then glanced down at Armando, who stood beside him. “He looked pissed.”

“Yeah. Best to stay out of his way till he cools down.”

“I’m assuming it’s okay if I explore the island?”

“Just stay away from the mansion and don’t talk to anyone.”

Dylan nodded and took off. While exploring, he would look for an escape. Getting the records and going back with Reddington would have been the easier method. He couldn’t do that, though. Raphael would be leaving with him, which meant they’d need a boat. If the yacht was their only mode of transportation, he’d take it, but he’d prefer something smaller and a hell of a lot faster.

Where was Raphael? The fact that he hadn’t been on the pier to greet Reddington was disturbing. Since Reddington’s wife and kids had been the only ones to greet him, maybe he’d been told to stay away. Wherever he was, Dylan wanted to find him as soon as possible. The kid would have a good knowledge of the island by now. And hell, maybe he’d been able to get to Reddington’s files.

Tonight, if Raphael didn’t have what they needed, Dylan would explore the mansion, find Reddington’s office, and get the files. This was what they’d been waiting on for months. By tomorrow, if there were no glitches, he’d have what he’d come for, and then he and Raphael would be on their way back to Madrid. By the time Reddington woke up and realized what’d happened, it would be too late.

That is, if there were no glitches.

Her hands gripping the railing, Jamie stood on her bedroom’s balcony and looked at the yacht. She had known Reddington was arriving. The dread of his arrival had been softened by the knowledge that at least Raphael was safe. Joseph had returned with the boat last night. He had reported that Giselle’s broken leg had required surgery, but everything had gone fine and she should be released from the hospital in a couple of days.

When Reddington learned that Giselle and his protégé had left the island, what would he do? From the panicked look on Mrs. Reddington’s face yesterday, Jamie feared the worst. Would he go to the hospital and try to retrieve his daughter immediately? If he did, would Raphael be able to stay out of the way? Jamie had seen how much he cared for the girl. Would he be able to let her go back with her father, knowing he might never see her again?

They still had nothing on Reddington. Each morning at three, while the household slept, she and Raphael had sat at Reddington’s computer and punched in password after password, in the vain hope that they’d get lucky. Yesterday morning, after another failed attempt, they’d both agreed that Reddington’s arrival was a good thing after all. Getting inside his head would be the only way to determine what passwords were needed.

That was up to her now. With Raphael out of the picture, she would need to talk with the man. Easier said than done. With Reddington’s obviously low opinion of women, having him sit down for a conversation with her might well be impossible. Nevertheless, she had to try.

Her attention returned to the pier, and she watched the Reddingtons greet each other. If she’d known nothing about the family, she would have assumed that this was a loving, happy reunion. At first, Reddington honestly seemed exuberant. Jamie could tell the exact moment he learned of Giselle’s accident. Even from this distance, she could see his entire body stiffen. His jerky movements as he spoke to his wife indicated fury. Seconds later, he grabbed his wife’s arm and pushed her forward, toward the house. Poor Amelia watched them leave, and then, dejection in every step, followed behind them.

Knowing that the little girl could use some cheering up, Jamie was about to turn around and go to her student. A movement on the pier stopped her. A tall, muscular man with dark hair and a slow, deliberate stride came into her view. In an instant, her world turned upside down.

Dylan
.

Excitement zoomed through her, and her body sang with joy. Her foolish heart didn’t care that he’d stomped and crushed it. For the first time in months, she felt alive. Yes, she was still angry and hurt, but for right now, none of that mattered. Jamie wanted to run down and fling herself into his arms.

Of course, she could do nothing of the kind. Dylan was undercover, and so was she. Both covers had to be maintained if they were going to stay alive and succeed. But she did need to let him know she was here. He was going to be furious, but he’d just have to get over that. They could work together to get what they needed.

For now, she had a job to do. Without apparent care, Reddington had just crushed his daughter’s feelings. The child needed solace and a distraction. Her responsibility as Amelia’s teacher was to find and console the little girl.

Amelia took a siesta every afternoon at two. Since Jamie usually spent that time exploring the island, no one would think twice if the new schoolteacher just happened upon the handsome stranger and started talking to him.

With that plan, Jamie left her room and went in search of her student.

The dinner chime sounded, and Jamie scurried out of her room. Being late for dinner tonight of all nights could not happen. Calling extra attention to herself wasn’t something she wanted.

She’d spent additional time on her appearance tonight, which had caused her to run late. Making sure Reddington didn’t recognize her was important. Equally important was ensuring that Dylan didn’t recognize her, either—at least not yet. Would her disguise stand up to his intense scrutiny?

Her plan to happen upon him during her daily walk had been scrapped by an afternoon thunderstorm. By the time it was over, Amelia was up from her nap, and they had two more hours of lessons before the day ended.

Skidding to a stop at the entrance to the dining room, she took in the people already seating themselves at the long, narrow dinner table. Reddington was at one end, Sarah at the other. Amelia sat close to her mother. Two men she’d never seen sat on either side of Reddington. Dylan sat in the middle. The only empty seat was across from him.

The one saving grace was that the giant chandelier above the table had been dimmed and the candles on the table were the main lights in the room. Everyone’s face was in the shadows.

As she seated herself, Jamie took a small breath to calm her nerves. Tonight was like any other night. She was Karen Jennings, an elementary school teacher, widowed, and slightly awkward in social settings. Her disguise was good, her cover impenetrable. She had nothing to worry about.

Glad that she’d set herself up as being shy, she didn’t feel the need to do anything but eat and offer the occasional smile. She had felt Dylan’s eyes on her several times but hadn’t yet had to meet his gaze. They were on the main course when all eyes turned to her.

“Stanford,” Mrs. Reddington said, her voice unusually husky, “just in the short time Mrs. Jennings has been here, Amelia has read a dozen books.”

Though Sarah was no doubt trying to get him to give some attention to his daughter, Reddington looked at Jamie instead. “And how is your new student behaving?”

Jamie replied truthfully: “Amelia is an intelligent young lady with a vivid imagination.” She smiled at the young girl. “And we’re getting along just fine.”

Reddington shot a look at Amelia, then turned his attention back to Jamie. “She’s going to grow up to be as beautiful as her mother and sister.”

Replying with a snarky comeback was not in her best interest, but Reddington’s comment gave her good insight into what he thought was most important, at least for the women in his family. Though taking the words at face value was her best bet, she refused to outright agree with him. “You have a beautiful family, Mr. Reddington.”

His mouth twisted slightly, as if he realized she didn’t totally appreciate his statement. Jamie knew she needed to be more careful, but intimating that Amelia’s looks were more important than her intelligence or talent went against everything she believed in as a teacher.

“And you like your new permanent residence?”

Again, the way he phrased his words bothered her. Was this a common occurrence with this man—speaking with hidden meaning? Refusing to give any indication of her unease, she said, “The island is lovely.”

Apparently satisfied that he’d paid enough attention to the new employee, Reddington turned his attention to the brutish-looking men beside him. They spoke in low voices, excluding everyone else from the conversation.

Thankful to have the focus of the table off her, Jamie kept her eyes lowered and concentrated on her meal. Unfortunately, the butterflies in her stomach she’d started the evening with had coalesced into one gargantuan creature. Swallowing anything else was impossible, unless she wanted to call more attention to herself by throwing up. How silly to think she could carry on a civil conversation with a man who’d bought her like a farm animal. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t cut out for this undercover stealth.

“Playing with your food never makes it disappear.”

Breath caught in her throat. The slightly amused masculine voice had come from the handsome man across from her. She’d dared look at him only once, but now, she couldn’t ignore him. Jamie raised her eyes and lost all breath. How could she have forgotten how beautiful Dylan was or what he could do to her blood pressure with just one glance from those gorgeous green eyes?