Page 74 of The Captive and the First Blood Game
His eyes drifted up from the computer as if he knew automatically that she was awake. She crooked a smile and tucked the covers around her still-naked body as she sat up.
Work?she mouthed to him.
He nodded and then spoke into the phone. “I understand. Yes, that sounds perfectly reasonable. I will be back in the office tomorrow.”
After a short pause, Beckham frowned at whatever was being said on the other line. She could tell he didn’t like it—what was being said or how it was being said. He looked as if he was about to rage on the other person. But when he spoke, none of that was in his voice. “Of course. Penelope is busy for the evening. She wouldn’t mind giving me up for another ball.” Slight pause. “That is a personal matter.” Another pause. “Understood.”
Beckham ended the call and tossed the phone next to the computer.
“Who was that?”
“Harrington.”
Reyna recoiled at the name. It still stung like a viper’s bite every time it was mentioned unexpectedly in her presence. Sometimes she forgot that Beckham worked for him. The reminder was a slap in the face.
“You’re leaving to go see him?” Reyna asked.
“Yes. It’s my job.”
Reyna suddenly felt very naked. “Right,” she said, scrambling out of bed and searching for her clothes.
“I still have some time before I have to return.”
“What did he ask when you said it was a personal matter?” She threw a shirt over her head before glancing back at him.
“He asked what my fight with Penelope had been about.”
“You didn’t just lie?”
“Harrington can usually tell when I’m lying,” he said simply.
That made Reyna shiver. “How do you avoid that?”
“Try not to get into situations where he is asking questions I do not wish for him to ask.”
“How much longer are you going to work for him?” she asked, her voice unintentionally rising.
“As long as it takes.”
Reyna waited for further explanation. Beckham stayed because it gave them insider information into what Harrington was doing and where Visage was going, but it didn’t make it any easier.
“I need to talk to you.” Beckham gestured to the place he had vacated. “Have a seat.”
She plopped down, anxiety swirling through her. What the hell was Beckham going to talk to her about? From the look on his face, it couldn’t be good.
He put his hands behind his back and stood tall over her. “I want you to work with Washington regarding your blood.”
“What?” she asked, jumping back to her feet. “How can you ask me to do that? You do know what I went through at Visage, right?”
“Sit,” he instructed, then waited for her to return to her seat. “Your safety is my number one priority. I won’t let anything happen to you. You trust me. I trust Washington.”
“Okay,” she said uneasily.
“I can sense you. That day at the ball was not a coincidence. I knew you were standing outside the door that day you came back from Five Points. I knew when you were awake just now. It is all the same feeling.” When Beckham glanced at her, all she could see was worry on his face. Or rather…him trying to conceal his worry. “If I can sense you and your blood, what is to stop anyone who has drunk your blood from sensing you?”
Reyna hated the implication, but she had to ask, “You think Harrington…”
“I don’t know. And I do not like not knowing.”
