Blood Cure (Blood Type 3)

“It’s a little poetic that the rebel organization that’s going to take Harrington’s ass down is working out of a base he started all this shit in.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Reyna said with a vicious smile.

They drove for over an hour in companionable conversation. Gabe was a carefree, flirtatious sort. When she’d first met him, she’d immediately pegged him as trouble. That much was still true. Except now it was one of her favorite qualities about the quick-witted, quick-tempered Irish mobster.

As they moved through more decrepit streets, they now continued forward in silence. Reyna realized with horror that she’d been here before. When she had first started as Beckham’s blood escort, he’d tried to show her the reality of vampires. That, despite her disagreement, they were all desperate, hungry killers. He’d never had much success with her in that department. She’d always had him as an example and thus felt his logic was flawed.

But on one such occasion, he had driven her out to this neighborhood. She’d seen fiendish rogue vampires, prostitutes, blood whores, poor hungry people—and overall desperation. People who had nothing and would do anything to have just a morsel. Beckham’s Town Car had sent them into a frenzy.

It had shaken her, but done nothing to change her resolve that the world needed change. That a place like that existed at all was the issue. People in poverty were the real victims. And the top echelon were the villains.

And now she was driving down that same street.

Her heart sank. She sure hoped Jodie had already left this hellhole.

“I’m not sure what to do about the car,” Gabe said. “I thought it would blend. I greatly underestimated how shitty this neighborhood is.”

“Yeah. I think we need to find a place to stash it.”

“You okay with a bit of a walk?” Gabe grimaced.

“Whatever we need to do.”

They were probably a mile away from their destination before Gabe found a place to leave the car where it wouldn’t be stripped down for parts before they returned. The weather was brisk, but it was nice to be out actually doing something. She hardly noticed the walk or the cold as anticipation fluttered through her stomach.

“Try not to get your hopes up,” Gabe muttered. “This isn’t the kind of place people linger if they don’t have to.”

Reyna ducked her head and tried not to make eye contact with the other people on the streets. She’d grown up in the Warehouse District. She’d thought she’d known hardship but that was nothing compared to what she was seeing now.

A few guys approached Gabe, who bucked up to twice his size at their approach.

“You got some cash?” the first guy asked.

“No.”

“What, you’re too good for us?” the second guy asked.

“How about your little girly, then?” The last guy took a step toward Reyna. She sidestepped closer to Gabe.

Gabe shot them a menacing glare and then pulled back the front of his jacket. The handguns he’d secured there earlier were clearly visible. “You’re making a terrible mistake. Just keep walking.”

One guy showed off his own gun, but his friends looked warier.

“Promise I’m faster on the draw,” Gabe snarled.

“Come on, Dom.”

“Yeah, Dom,” Gabe spat. “Listen to your buddies.”

Dom offered some choice expletives before being dragged away by his friends. Reyna only breathed again when they were a block away from them. She sure hoped that they didn’t run into them again. She knew that encounter wouldn’t go as well.

“Fucking cocky bastards. Thinking only with their dicks,” Gabe growled relentlessly as they walked the last few blocks. “Think they’re so bad. They wouldn’t survive a night on my fucking streets.”

Reyna smiled at him. She liked seeing Gabe be all big bad tough guy. No wonder Meghan was into him.

“Well, here we are,” Gabe said.

They stared up at the decrepit apartment building. Most of the windows were boarded up with an air-conditioning unit sticking out. A group of kids played with a kickball in the street. A few elderly men played backgammon on the stoop. A drug deal was happening on the corner.

“Great place,” Reyna muttered.

They approached the entrance, which had a gate that had long since been deactivated. One of the elderly men called out to them, but they both ignored him and hurried up the steps. They checked the registry for Jodie’s cousin’s name, June Gardner. There was no one by that name, but they’d been expecting that. They buzzed the apartment number. No one answered.

Gabe shrugged and took to the stairs. They went up five flights before finding the apartment just off of the landing. Gabe knocked on the front door long enough for someone to finally crack it open. It was a large woman in nothing but a bra and underpants. Her hair was in curlers and she wore a permanent sneer.

“What?” she spat. “I don’t need nothin’. Don’t need you bangin’ on my door. Fuck off.”