“Will you go back to Elle?” he demanded instead of replying to her question.
“Becks, look at me.” He finally did, his eyes black molten lava. “I will go back if I have to, but there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“He wants to talk to you,” Beckham ground out.
“What? Why?”
“He won’t say. He won’t say anything except that he has important information and the only person he’ll tell is you.”
Reyna’s head swam with the possibilities. “Do you think he has info?”
Beckham considered for a moment. “I think he’s a threat. He’ll do anything to get close to you.”
“So…you think it’s a trap?”
“That is how it appears.”
Reyna gnawed on her lip. Itcouldbe a trap. If Harrington was looking for her, it would make sense for him to use Everett to draw her out.
“What if he does have information?”
“I know a way to get it from him without letting him talk to you.” The sinister glint in his eye said everything he hadn’t—they would torture him until he revealed it.
Reyna hated Everett. She despised his part in all of this. That didn’t mean she agreed with torture. She didn’t want Elle to become the bad guys. She wanted them to be better than that. She wanted Beckham to be better than that.
“I’ll do it.”
“Reyna…”
“Find me a secure location. I can get the information from him. I know that I can.”
He clenched his jaw. He’d anticipated she would want to do it. She liked to take chances. He liked that about her, even if it made his job to keep her safe more difficult.
“He’s going to manipulate you.”
“I won’t forget what he did. Plus, you’ll be there, right?”
His body went rigid, and he shook his head. That was the biggest obstacle—he couldn’t be there. Everett wanted to talk to her, and Beckham couldn’t be there to protect her.
“You won’t be there.”
“I will be there, but I can’t risk him knowing that I’m Elle. He might not know you and Gabe are with Elle, but you two are connected now. We can’t risk him figuring out more.”
“But finding out about you would be worst-case scenario.”
“Undeniably.”
Olivia strode into the back room carrying an enormous white hanging bag before Reyna could respond.
“We chose a winner,” Olivia said, handing it to Laura, who took it and thanked her profusely.
“The first dress?” Reyna asked.
Laura nodded. “It’s perfect.”
“Let’s go,” Beckham said, nodding toward the back door.
They exited into the corridor, then went down in the elevator again to where a nondescript black Mercedes idled.
