Sweet Revenge (6 page)

“What?” Dylan arched a brow, knowing that’d piss her off. “You got something to say, say it.”

“I had a stomach virus a couple of weeks ago and couldn’t eat.”

Okay, so what if he now felt lower than a slug. By the time he was finished, he figured he’d feel a hundred times worse. He turned to go out the door. “Lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Dylan.”

He glanced back at her. “Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“And
this
would be what?”

“Why did you agree to train me when you clearly don’t want the job?”

“Who said I don’t want the job?”

She straightened her shoulders and took another deep breath, determination glinting in her eyes. “Your attitude.”

This
was the Jamie he wanted to see. Not the polite Jamie, or the treading-carefully-to-keep-from-offending-him Jamie. He wanted to see the spirited woman who would stand up for herself. The woman who’d jumped on his back when he came to rescue her and threatened to kill him if he touched her.

He might not want to see her put herself in danger, but one thing he could do for her was make sure she was never a victim again. That included not putting up with any crap, from him or anyone else.

“There’s a big difference between wanting to teach you to kick ass to protect yourself and training you to put yourself in danger again.”

“But you’re going to do both. Right?”

“I’m going to teach you how to fight.” He turned and walked from the room. “What you choose to do with that knowledge is entirely up to you.”

She followed him into the living room. “You think I should just let this go? Do you know what Reddington is doing? What he’s been doing for years?”

“Yeah, human trafficking, rape, murder.”

“And you think I shouldn’t do something?”

“I’m not arguing about whether the bastard needs to go down. Having you be the one who does that makes no sense.”

“Because I’m too weak and untrained?”

“There is that, but that’s not the biggest reason. Victims going after their violators never works. There’s too much emotion, too many personal needs. Staying detached is imperative.”

“But it can be done.”

“Rarely.”

That stubborn, determined expression he’d become familiar with crossed her face. He mentally shrugged. He hadn’t expected to convince her on the first day.

Little did she know that he was just as determined. The next couple of months were going to be interesting. Had it been anyone else but Jamie, he might even have looked forward to the challenge. Problem was, it
was
Jamie. A woman who not only could turn him on with just a smile but made him feel things he’d never felt before.

So, did he look forward to it? No. Did he want to be anywhere else than where he was right now? Hell no.

three

Jamie spooned creamy potato soup into her mouth and eyed the huge ham sandwich Dylan had placed beside her bowl. Since she didn’t have McKenna’s metabolism—her sister could eat like a thirteen-year-old boy and never gain weight—she wasn’t too keen to gobble down the entire meal, no matter how delicious it might be.

The stomach virus she’d had a couple of weeks ago had played havoc with her appetite, and she had lost a few pounds. Funny, but she’d been proud of the weight loss until Dylan’s blunt comment.

“When you’re through with lunch, I want to do a physical exam.”

Her head shot up. “What?”

His mouth twitched slightly, as though he fought a smile. “Thought that’d get your face out of your bowl.”

So what if she hadn’t looked at him since they’d sat down to eat. Looking at a grumpy man across the table wasn’t exactly appetite-inducing, no matter how handsome the face.

“You weren’t serious, then?”

“I’m very serious. I want to test your physical stamina before we get started. Pulse rate, blood pressure, reflexes. I’ll put you on a treadmill and see what we’ve got to work with.”

“Do all LCR people have to do this?”

“You’re not an LCR person, Jamie.”

For some reason, the comment hurt. No, she wasn’t officially an LCR person, but she was going through the same kind of training.

As if he hadn’t just stomped on her feelings once again, he added, “Everyone has to go through an evaluation before starting their training. Few operatives come to LCR fully trained.”

“Did you?”

“Hell no. Took me months to get trained.”

“How long do you think it’ll take me to learn what I need to know?”

For once he didn’t bother to hide his thoughts—the doubtful look said he didn’t think she’d ever be ready.

Since she was sure she would argue with any answer he gave her, Jamie quickly switched subjects. “How long have you worked for LCR?”

“About five years.”

“Where did you live before you came to Paris?”

“The States.” He stood and went to the sink.

Though his reluctance to share anything personal was obvious, Jamie nevertheless continued. “Where in the States? Florida?”

He turned and leaned back against the sink … two hundred and ten pounds of hard muscle and prickly, secretive masculinity. “Lots of different places.” Barely pausing for a breath, he asked, “You did several months of counseling. Right?”

She nodded. “Four days a week, for almost three months.” In case he doubted her, she added, “My therapist released me. She gave Noah a full report of my progress. Why?”

His face went granite hard. “Because once we get you into halfway decent shape, there’s going to be a lot of hand-to-hand combat. I need to be able to touch you without freaking you out.”

A thousand retorts to his insensitivity came to her head. Jamie eyed him carefully. She still didn’t know a lot about this man, but she knew that his comment had been deliberate. He had wanted to provoke a certain response. Fine, she would give him one. Lifting her chin, she faced him with a resolute stare. “It won’t work.”

One of his dark brows arched. “What won’t work?”

“There are only two reasons you would have said that. One, you’re the most insensitive moron this side of the North Pole. Or two, you’re hoping to make me so angry, I’ll say, ‘Forget about this’ and leave.”

“I need to know how tough you are. If that remark bothers you, that’s your problem.”

Jamie stood, and though she knew it was a defensive gesture, she couldn’t prevent her hands from going to her hips. “If what you know about me doesn’t convince you I’m tough, I don’t know what will.”

“I know that you’ve survived a lot. That’s not my concern.” He came close … closer than he’d ever been before.

Wishing her legs weren’t shaking, Jamie raised her head and met his gaze head-on. “Then what is your concern?”

“Are you going to be able to kill a man?”

She gasped and took a step back. “I’m not planning to kill anyone. I just—”

“Yeah, I know, you just want to expose Reddington for a sleaze, bring him to justice, and get a little revenge while you’re at it. Problem is, Reddington’s been getting away with this shit for years and making a boatload of money to boot. If he discovers who you are, you think he’s going to just pat you on the head, tell you that it’s okay, and let you go? You’re going to have to fight for all you’re worth. That might include killing someone to save your life.” He got closer still … leaning down, his nose within inches of touching hers. “You got that kind of grit inside you, little Jamie?”

Rattled, but refusing to back down, she thrust her chin even higher. “Do I want to kill? No. Will I kill to save my life? Yes.” Tired of the intimidation tactics, Jamie took the extra step. With their bodies now touching, his heat making her burn even brighter, she glared up at him. “That answer your question … big Dylan?”

With the warmth of his breath coating her face, he stood for several seconds, unmoving. Then a change she’d never expected came over his face. The mouth that always looked so grim and unyielding turned up in a full-fledged, sexy smile. “Yeah, that answers my question.”

Backing away from her, he glanced at her empty bowl and half-eaten sandwich. “You through?”

Overheated, her heart pounding, she nodded. Speaking right now was well beyond her ability. She could barely think. Holy hell, she had just been turned on by a scowl, a challenge, and a beautiful smile.

“Get changed into some sweats. We’ll take a quick tour of the grounds, do your health eval, and then go over the training schedule.”

Still unable to form the right words in her mouth, Jamie turned and marched out of the room. Five minutes later, in between muttering obscenities to herself for her foolishness and to Dylan for his arrogance, she dressed in thick fleece sweats, two pairs of socks, and hiking boots. She threw on her heaviest coat and returned to the living room.

Dylan stood in the middle of the room wearing the same coat he’d been wearing before. In his hands was a smaller, similar coat. “Put this on. That thing you’re wearing is for looks, not warmth.”

Arguing would do no good. If she went outside and froze to death, what exactly would that prove? Still, she bit the inside of her jaw to keep from spouting off a smart comment as she took the coat and shrugged into it.

He threw some gloves at her. “Wear these.”

Before she could say, “Thanks,” he turned to the door. “Try not to get lost.”

There were so many things on the tip of her tongue, and though she knew he was only trying to get a rise from her, it was infuriating not to respond. She stepped out onto the porch and promptly forgot her anger. A wonderland of whiteness awaited.

She’d been so involved with what was going on inside the cabin, she hadn’t bothered to look outside. Just in the short amount of time she’d been here, it had snowed at least four inches. Everything was coated in fluffy whiteness … her Jeep was completely covered.

“Looks like it’ll have to be a short tour. Snow’s coming faster than I thought it would.” He had been standing beside her, but now he went down the steps and held out his hand. “It’s slippery.”

Jamie looked at the big hand in front of her and swallowed hard. Stupid, but somehow she felt, as she put her hand in his, that they were making some sort of pact or a special connection.

Even through the gloves, she could feel the warmth and the strength of him as his hand closed around hers. The look in his eyes was one she had never seen before. Solemn, almost gentle, but still so damn secretive.

What secrets lay behind that mysterious dark green gaze? And would she ever know them?

She was actually doing better than he’d thought she would. As soon as she’d gotten out of her Jeep this morning, he’d made a necessary adjustment in her training program. Hell, she’d looked like the mildest of breezes would whisk her away.

His plan had been to spend no more than a couple of months teaching her self-defense. And during that time, he’d delve as deeply as he could to uncover any information she was keeping to herself about Reddington. While the latter agenda was still a go, the self-defense training would have to wait. It was going to take at least a couple of weeks of good meals and sleep before she’d be capable of what he was going to put her through.

And knowing what he knew about her, she wasn’t going to like the delay one little bit.

Sprawled in a chair a few feet from the treadmill, Dylan watched as Jamie kept up a brisk pace on the treadmill. A glowing sheen of perspiration on her face told him the workout was probably a little more exertion than she’d had in a while. He’d stop her in a few minutes. Some muscle soreness was inevitable, but he didn’t want her so uncomfortable that it would cause her pain. She had a hell of a lot ahead of her … no point in overdoing it on the first day.

Training in between ops was a normal course of events for all LCR operatives. And helping to train each other went with the territory. Most times he enjoyed the challenge of helping someone meet the next level of fitness or skill.

“What was your fitness routine back home?”

She replied breathlessly, “When I lived in Louisiana, I belonged to a gym. I haven’t had a regular fitness routine in a while.”

Yeah, he’d figured that. After what she’d been through, he was surprised her fitness level was as good as it was. Wouldn’t take more than a month or so before she’d be ready for more intensive training.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s check your pulse rate. I need to do some things outside the cabin before the blizzard hits.”

“Blizzard?”

“Yeah. Was just supposed to be a winter storm, but looks like it’s going to be a heavier one than they expected.”

“So that means …”

He got to his feet and went to stand in front of her. “It means you’re stuck here for at least a week. So if you were thinking of changing your mind, it’s too late now.”

She pressed the Stop button on the treadmill with a hard, telling punch. With that delicate, stubborn chin at an all-time high, she snapped, “I wasn’t, and I won’t.”

“Give me your arm.”

Her hand shot out, barely missing his face. Dylan didn’t mention the near miss as he checked her pulse. He frowned at the rate. “You pulse is higher than I thought it would be.”

“Then stop pissing me off.”

“You’re too easy.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you get angry every time I say something you don’t like, you’re going to be wasting a lot of energy being mad instead of learning what you need to learn.”

“How am I supposed to react?”

“Like you don’t give a damn.”

She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Couldn’t you just try to be more agreeable?”

“Now, what would be the fun in that?” He threw a towel at her. “Make sure you’re dry. Don’t want you getting sick again.”

With that slow, lazy walk that Jamie found almost mesmerizing, Dylan sauntered out of the room. Gripping the towel he’d thrown at her, she fought the need to throw the damn thing back at him. He said things to deliberately infuriate her and then chastised her for getting angry.

From the age of fifteen, Jamie had diligently practiced stifling emotions and not showing her thoughts. On her best days, Aunt Mavis had been manipulative and overbearing; on her worst she’d been downright mean. Jamie had learned to survive by never allowing her aunt to see behind the calm mask she’d adopted. School had been an additional challenge. As the awkward and too quiet new girl whose parents had been murdered, she’d been the talk of the small school, and that had given her even more training in hiding behind a façade.

So how was it that with a small quirk of his mouth or a mocking glint in his eyes, Dylan could bring out these bubbling, boiling emotions that had once been so easy to contain? She didn’t know the answer, but she had to admit he was right about one thing. She did need to act as if what he said didn’t faze her—like she didn’t give a damn.

Wiping her face, neck, and arms until they were completely dry, Jamie threw the towel in a laundry basket beside the door. After swallowing the entire glass of water Dylan had put on a table for her, she took a few slow breaths. Anger hadn’t made her breathing any easier. She hated how out of shape she was. Not that she’d ever been an exercise queen, but at one time, she’d been in decent shape.

How long would it take her to get where she needed to be physically? Though she had no plans to have to fight anyone or run for her life, she knew the possibility of danger existed.

Fortunately, most of what she planned involved things she already knew how to do. The training LCR was providing would be needed only if things didn’t go as planned. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use these new skills, but having them would give her an extra dose of confidence … and she could definitely use more of that.

Dylan’s short tour of the grounds had given her a good idea of what to expect once the weather cleared. He’d pointed out several trails, one so steep that part of it had a rope for climbing. There were also three obstacle courses with varying degrees of difficulty. The comment that it’d be a while before she’d be using any of them had been clear. He either thought she’d never be in good enough shape or he expected her to quit. She was determined to prove him wrong on both points. Not knowing what came next was bothersome, but worrying about it would do no good. She would do what she had to do. It was as simple as that.

With Dylan busy outside, she saw no harm in taking a quick tour of the cabin.

The gym covered the entire basement level and contained numerous exercise machines, including some she was familiar with and others she’d never seen before. Along one wall, free weights of varying sizes and shapes were stacked. The opposite wall was mirrored, with a large cushioned mat running the length of it.

She headed upstairs, to the main floor. They’d eaten lunch in the kitchen, which seemed amazingly well equipped, with every modern convenience, including a gigantic freezer. Made sense if they were going to be snowed in for a while.

Just off the kitchen was a small dining room with an oak table and a large picture window that looked out onto the back. She peeked out and spotted Dylan driving her Jeep into the garage. That act struck her as kind and gentlemanly—completely incongruent with his attitude toward her.