Sweet Revenge by Christy Reece Read Free Book Online Page B

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