Blood Cure (Blood Type 3)

“Why?” Reyna asked.

“And how did he know about us? Did you tell someone?”

“Fuck no! I’m not an idiot. But this guy, he just knows. He knows everything. That’s why we’re going to see the scary motherfucker.”

Beckham looked skeptical. “When are we meeting him?”

“Tonight. But we’ll have to get you cleaned up before you meet him. I don’t know why, but that’s what they told me.”

“Fine. Done. What else?” Beckham asked.

“And you need payment.”

Beckham’s eyebrows rose. “How much?”

“Not that simple.”

“It never is,” Beckham muttered.

“Wait, slow down. What does he want?” Reyna asked.

“He trades for valuable information and priceless personal items,” Gabe said. “I was going to give him the O’Connor family ring.” He spun the giant ring around his right ring finger possessively. “But now you two have to find something to give him.”

“I don’t have anything,” Reyna said. “I mean…quite literally. Everything I owned—even my camera—was destroyed by Harrington.”

“I’ve got enough for the both of us,” Beckham told her. “I’ll pick something up. Where are we meeting him?”

“He’s going to send a car to collect you from this address,” Gabe said, passing over the piece of paper he’d written it on and a key. “To open the building.”

Beckham glanced at it and pocketed the key. “Fine. Anything else we need to know?”

“Yeah…like the guy’s name?” Reyna asked.

Gabe shook his head. “No idea. He keeps his identity secret. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

“Great,” Reyna grumbled.

“This guy…he’s…I mean, I’ve only heard rumors, but usually there’s some truth in every rumor. So just…be careful.”

“What exactly are we walking into?” Reyna asked.

Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know much else about this guy. Just give him your payment and ask your questions about Harrington. We need something we can use to take him down, so be specific. Then get out of there.”

Fear tingled down Reyna’s spine at the declaration. Beckham seemed utterly unaffected by it, but what else was new? She didn’t like that Gabe seemed freaked by this guy. What the hell could he do to someone like Gabe or Beckham? He couldn’t be worse than Harrington. This guy might be cloaked in mystery, but he wasn’t her first. She wouldn’t quake in terror like she had the first time she’d met Beckham. She was a different person. She could handle this.

* * *

—

Beckham sent Reyna with Gabe to get her appropriately attired. He’d made a few quick calls and then suddenly she was being whisked away to some secret upscale spa. Reyna couldn’t understand the extravagance. They were undercover. They were trying to not be seen. And yet Gabe was walking her through the back door of a ten-story luxury spa.

Beckham assured her that he still had some undercover connections, but she didn’t see how having one at a spa was beneficial. Until now of course, where otherwise she might have been outted to Harrington. She’d stopped second-guessing Beckham long ago though. He knew what he was doing and wouldn’t put her in unnecessary danger.

She spent the next two hours in hair and makeup. When she had been living with Beckham, she’d been treated like a doll. And while it was fun sometimes, the endless makeup thing wasn’t really her thing. She was more of a jeans and Chuck Taylors kind of girl.

But by the end, her dark hair fell long and luxurious down her back. Her skin glowed. Her eyes were lined and shimmery. She looked mysterious with her cat eyes, vampesque contoured cheekbones, and bright red lipstick. She looked like a whole new person.

“Wow,” she muttered. “You guys are kind of geniuses.”

The girls laughed and swatted her hand away from her hair. “Don’t touch it,” one girl said.

Reyna held her hands up. “No touching. Got it.”

“Now for the real fun.”

The woman marched her down the hallway and into a giant closet full of clothes, from the floor to the ceiling. Reyna’s eyes bugged at all the gorgeous garments. For a second she missed the lacy, silky, ridiculous clothes Beckham had once picked out for her. This was larger than her own closet had been, and it made her nostalgic for easier times. Who would have ever guessed that she’d be missing that life?

There was no way that Reyna could pick from the closet. So the women just made her try on dozens of outfits before deciding on one.

Reyna’s heart raced when she saw herself in the full-length mirror. She looked…sexy. Alluring. Exotic.

A black dress hugged her figure down to her upper-thighs. Lace peeked out from the bottom of the scandalously short dress and ran up over her hips. The bustier top held her breasts up where they nearly spilled over the material, and fine spaghetti straps accentuated the entire thing. She had on red-backed black high heels and no underwear. The dress didn’t allow for it.

Beckham was going to die when he saw her.