Sweet Revenge by Christy Reece

When she’d first arrived, he’d showed her those courses. As much as she wanted to meet all the challenges he put before her, she couldn’t deny the dread. Climbing over walls, crawling through tunnels, swinging on ropes—those things were completely out of her realm of understanding and knowledge.
    “Don’t look so worried. I won’t time your first couple of tries.”
    Had he thought that information would reassure her? The dread only increased. Of course timing would be involved. From what she could tell, there was little in her training that didn’t include doing it either as fast or as quietly as possible.
    She took a breath and lifted her chin. Fear wasn’t going to stop her. “I look forward to the challenge.”
    Though that damn eyebrow he was so fond of raising shot up, he didn’t comment on what sounded, even to her own ears, like thin bravado.
    Moving her attention back to her meal, Jamie took several more bites. The silence wasn’t the one she’d gotten used to over the last couple of weeks. This was the kind of silence that was bound to be broken. And once again, Dylan didn’t disappoint.
    “What do you know about Reddington you’re not telling us?”
    The question so surprised her, she swallowed a bite of biscuit too soon. Grabbing her orange juice before she choked, she drank half the glass to unclog her throat and then shook her head. “I’ve told Noah everything I know about his operation.”
    “Everything?”
    She’d never realized how penetrating a green-eyed stare could be. Didn’t matter. She had told the truth. All the information she’d gleaned about Reddington and his horrific slave trading had been given to Noah McCall the day after her rescue.
    “Tell me again, then.”
    “What?”
    “Humor me … tell me again.”
    Her lips trembled with the need to say something sarcastic. But this was the most Dylan had talked with her since she’d been here. Creating goodwill by reviewing what she’d learned wasn’t a big deal. She was hiding nothing useful about Reddington. At least, nothing useful for LCR.
    “The first time I heard him, he was discussing a business transaction about a young woman he’d purchased in Seville. He said he wanted her included on the next market day.”
    “And how was it that you heard this?”
    Jamie forced herself to view her memories objectively. Those dark days had been some of the scariest and most humiliating of her life. If she didn’t allow herself to get drawn into the emotions, it was much easier to recall what she’d heard.
    “As you know … since you were the one to find me … I was locked in a room on the third floor. I was handcuffed to the bed most of the time, but when my meals were delivered, I was free to eat, go to the bathroom … whatever. Sometimes hours would go by before they’d remember to come back and lock the cuffs. They weren’t really afraid that I’d try to escape. The only way out was through the door, which was always locked, or through the window. Since I was about thirty feet from the ground, I’m sure they figured I wouldn’t jump.”
    Little had they known that’d she’d contemplated that very thing. The jump would have killed her, but at her lowest point, she had been desperate. But then blessed anger had returned and, with it, the determination that the bastards would not win. If she had jumped out that window, no one would have blinked an eye. She would probably have been thrown into a hole in the woods, and that would have been that.
    Realizing she had gone where she had promised herself she wouldn’t, Jamie took a breath and made herself continue: “One day when I was free and looking for a way out, I found a heating vent on the floor. I managed to pry it open. There was no way I could escape through it, but I could hear voices. That’s when I realized my room was right above Reddington’s office. I heard numerous phone conversations—all one-sided—but he had no regard for what he said.