Blood Type (Page 51)

Reyna tried to stay out of the way of what was happening. She crouched in a corner, hugging her tattered corset to her chest. Neither of them slowed down as their attacks turned more and more brutal. Finally, everything seemed to slow down to the one moment when Beckham landed a perfectly executed hit to Rowland’s temple, and he dropped like a ton of bricks. Whatever Beckham had done had left Rowland completely immobilized.

Reyna knew he wasn’t dead…that Beckham wouldn’t want to kill him, but in that moment, she kind of hoped for it.

“What is going on in here?” someone called, entering the destroyed room.

Reyna hadn’t even noticed that they had drawn a crowd. She held her corset tighter to her and curled deeper into her corner. She just wanted to leave. She wanted to forget this night had ever happened. Beckham adjusted his suit and faced the man, who was pushing everyone else out of earshot.

“Nothing. It’s been settled,” Beckham said.

“You know the rules, Mr. Anderson. No fighting of any kind.”

“I’m well aware of the rules. Mr. Batiste was taking possession of my property without my permission. I was within my rights to…stop him.”

The man glowered at him. “Fine, but we must ask you to leave, as you have made quite a spectacle of yourself.”

“No one in, no one out,” he reminded them.

“We must protect our own. We’ll take you out the back way.”

Beckham still looked murderous, and the man seemed ready to relent at any minute. But rules were rules apparently and Beckham had just broken one of the cardinal ones to save her. Finally, he nodded his head.

Beckham turned to address her, and he seemed to realize she was mostly naked and shaking. “Oh Reyna.”

He walked across the room and helped her to her feet. She glared at him, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from shaking at what she had witnessed. Beckham shrugged out of his jacket and quickly threw it around her shoulders. The jacket smelled like him, and she pulled it tight around her. He placed his hand on her lower back, but she stepped away from his touch. He might have fought for her…saved her, but that didn’t make up for all the other bullshit.

She was done. She was so done. Beckham Anderson had no right to her body or her mind any longer.

“Reyna,” he said, his voice straining.

She shot him an ugly glare and then teetered across the room. She made it only about halfway to the door before her legs gave out and she started to fall forward. Beckham was at her side in an instant, holding her up. She tried to wrench away, but the adrenaline was wearing off. She felt ragged and exhausted, humiliated and exposed, and angry. She felt so angry. But her body wasn’t listening to her. Her legs were not working.

Shock.

She was in shock.

When she didn’t move another step, Beckham scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the room. She didn’t even have the words to argue with him. To shout at him and tell him to leave her alone. To tell him how much better her life had been without him in it.

The man who had forced Beckham to leave directed them down a hallway to where another door was located. It wasn’t quite as large as the Vault door, but still looked sturdy.

“I’ll have to lock up behind you.”

“That’s fine. I’ll have my driver pick us up from our location,” Beckham said.

Then he carried Reyna through the door and out into a long open tunnel completely devoid of any- and everything. The club door slammed behind them, sealing itself shut, and casting them into utter darkness.

Chapter 28

Once the door closed behind them, Beckham eased her back onto her unsteady feet. She stumbled a bit and clutched onto the wall to right herself. Even if she had been about to pass out all over again, she wouldn’t have wanted to stay in Beckham’s arms. The wall was cool to her touch and she tried to use the sturdy feel of it to bring her back to herself. Images flashed before her eyes—fangs sinking into flesh, leering eyes, a ripped corset, shuddering walls. She closed her eyes and tried to force away her panic.

She was out of there.

No one could hurt her.

Except the man before her, who from the start had promised to break her.

Reyna peeled her eyes back open and let them adjust to the darkness. Beckham was standing before her but his eyes were cast down the tunnel contemplatively, which was when she noticed that the tunnel wasn’t as dark as anticipated. It was dimly lit from the roof at random intervals.

Beckham pulled his phone out of his pocket. That damn phone. The screen lit up his face, where fear lingered despite the fact that they were out of the club. Reyna didn’t know what Beckham could fear.

“Fuck!” he cursed. “No signal.”

Reyna groaned. Great. Just great. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Finally, something we can both agree on,” Beckham said stubbornly.

Reyna rolled her eyes and then glared at him. “How dare you even say that shit to me right now,” she spat, her voice cold and hard. “If you hadn’t wanted me to come…if you had really wanted Penelope all along, then this is your fault.”

“I told you not to come. You insisted and boxed me into a corner.”

She shook her head. “No one bullies you. I’m your employee, remember? You tell me what to do.”

“Yeah, and right now I’m telling you to stop talking.”

“No,” she said, straightening. “I’m not finished. This entire thing was bullshit and I’m over it. I cannot believe you drank from Penelope. I mean, how fucking dare you!”

“Reyna,” he said, his voice lethal.

“How could you do it?” she asked, almost desperate. “How could you drink from her? After the rooftop…and everything else. How?”

He ground his teeth and then looked away. “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not. You won’t drink from me, but you’ll drink from her? That’s not complicated. That’s bullshit.”

“We need to leave. We’ll talk about this later.”

“No, we’ll talk about it now. And we’ll start with this—I don’t want you to ever touch me again,” she growled. “Not ever. You’re a liar, a cheat, and a coward.”

His eyes were steely as he stood taller and flashed his fangs at her. She tried not to show fear, but when he wanted to appear menacing, he was damn good at it. “I have been called many things before, Little One, but I am no coward.”

Reyna held her ground. “A coward is a man torn between two women and leading them both on. So, I’ll make the decision easy for you. I will not be in the middle anymore. I want to go home.”

“Yeah, we’re about to leave. We’ll talk about this more when we get there. We have to walk until we get a signal.”

“No,” Reyna spat. “I mean I want to go home, to my brothers, to the Warehouse District.”

“What?” Beckham’s head snapped over to her, and he stared long and hard.

“You heard me. I’m done. I want to go home,” she told him more forcefully. “I want to get away from this world, this horrible awful world!”

He clenched his jaw, breathed out harshly, and looked away from her. “We’ll talk about this when you calm down.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’ve already made my choice.”