Blood Assassin

  Bas slowly shook his head. They were the exact words he would have used just days ago. Before he realized that he wasn’t nearly as invulnerable as he once believed.

  “It’s that attitude that got Molly kidnapped in the first place.”

  Kaede scowled in confusion. “What?”

  “I’ve spent the past century making enemies.” Bas paced toward his desk, his gaze lingering on the stack of potential clients. He’d spent over a hundred years crafting a power base built on money, intimidation, and blackmail. He thought it made him strong. Too late he realized he’d instead created a seething volcano that was destined to explode in his face. “Sooner or later one of them was bound to seek revenge. I just never thought that Molly would pay the price for my sins.”

  “Since when did you become a believer in karma?” Kaede demanded.

  “Since it bit me in the ass.”

  The warrior shrugged. He was still young enough to believe he could control his future.

  “Everyone makes enemies.”

  “Not everyone chooses to live without a conscience.”

  There was a hesitation as Kaede sought a diplomatic means of assuring Bas that his years of being an immoral bastard weren’t a mistake.

  “You have to make tough choices when you’re the leader.”

  “A nice excuse.” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “We both know my decisions were based on the bottom line, not what was best for my people.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Kaede protested.

  “True enough.” Bas grimaced. This wasn’t a bout of self-pity. Just a long overdue examination of his life. “I’ve hurt too many.”

  There was a long silence as Kaede came to terms with Bas’s unfamiliar guilt.

  Then, clearing his throat, the young man asked the question that had no doubt been plaguing him for the past four years.

  “You never discuss Molly’s mother.”

  Bas smoothly turned, as if he was gazing out the window. He was emotionally compromised, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to realize that Myst had ever been more than a meaningless coupling.

  Myst.

  A familiar sense of exasperation raced through his blood.

  The tiny woman with a pale, perfect face that was dominated by a large pair of velvet brown eyes and long, silvery-blond color so pale it didn’t look real had slammed into his life with the force of a mini-tornado and then simply disappeared.

  Poof.

  Gone.

  And the fact that he’d secretly spent the past four years searching for her annoyed the hell out of him.

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” he said, the words clipped. “She was a clairvoyant with only minor abilities. She asked to work for me, but to be honest she seemed more a liability than an asset.”

  “So you took her to your bed instead?” Kaede pressed.

  Bas glanced toward the hand-carved wooden cabinet that concealed a top-of-the-line media center.

  Four years ago there had been a leather couch there that was long enough for him to stretch out for an hour nap when he was working around the clock.

  A common occurrence.

  But after Molly had arrived, he’d had the office completely redecorated.

  He told himself that it only made sense to make the room as kid-friendly as possible.

  But a part of him knew that he’d commanded the change because he found himself unable to walk by the couch without catching the faint scent of cinnamon that had clung to Myst’s skin or seeing her spread beneath him, her pale face flushed with pleasure.

  Shit.

  Bas gave an abrupt shake of his head.

  “She was upset so I poured us both a drink,” he said, giving a dismissive lift of his shoulder. “And then another. Eventually we ended up on the couch. One hour later she was gone.”

  Kaede gave a short laugh. “Left or was escorted out?”

  Bas had a brief urge to allow his companion to believe he’d had her tossed from the building. After all, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had to use force to remove an overly persistent lover on any number of times.

  But he swiftly dismissed the cowardly impulse.

  He might resent Myst’s ability to walk away as if he was just another fuck, but she was Molly’s mother. He wasn’t going to allow anyone to disrespect her.

  “I asked her to stay,” he admitted, turning back to face his companion. “I felt—”

  “What?”

  “I felt peace when she was in my arms.”

  Kaede lifted a brow, but he wasn’t stupid enough to press the issue.

  “Then how did she disappear?” he asked instead.

  Now that was a good question.

  One that had nagged at him for four years.

  “I got up to answer the phone and when I turned around she was gone.”

  “That must have been a first for you.” Kaede didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Did you look for her?”

  Bas gave a warning frown. He was willing to admit he’d enjoyed sex with Myst. And even that he’d wanted more.

  But there was no way he was going to share that he’d been paying a fortune to the best private detectives in the world trying to find her.

  “What the hell does it matter?”

  “I hear regret in your voice.”

  “You hear annoyance,” he corrected. Which was true enough. Myst was a mystery that refused to be solved. What could be more annoying to a man who used information as a bargaining tool? “The woman disappeared and nine months later left a baby in my private rooms with a note attached saying that she belonged to me.”

  It was a story that Bas shared with no one, so he was fully prepared for Kaede’s sudden suspicion.

  “You didn’t speak with her?”

  “She obviously didn’t feel the need to explain why she was abandoning her child, and since she had a rare talent for sneaking past my security I didn’t have the opportunity to question her decision.”

  Kaede wasn’t satisfied. “Did you have a DNA sample of the baby taken?”

  “No.”

  “Shit, Bas, how do you know the child is yours?” Kaede stared at him as if he was looking at a stranger. “Or for that matter, if the woman you slept with is the biological mother?”

  He shrugged. “Molly is a tiny replica of her. Except for her eyes.”

  Kaede snorted. “That doesn’t make you the father.”

  Bas wondered how the younger man would explain the color of Molly’s eyes. He’d never seen anyone beyond himself with that particular color of bronze.

  Still, it wasn’t the color of eyes or hair or the tiny nose tilted at the very end that made Molly his daughter.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “The second I held Molly in my arms she belonged to me,” Bas said with a quiet sincerity. “End of story.”

  Kaede’s distrustful expression abruptly melted, revealing a tenderness that would shock most people.

  Who would believe the man referred to as “Bas’s Blade” had a heart?

  Molly had changed them all.

  “She belongs to all of us,” Kaede said.

  Which only made it all the more vital that he get her back, Bas acknowledged. His people depended on her bright spirit to lighten the darkness of their souls.

  Deliberately, he forced his thoughts away from Molly. Instead, he concentrated on the vicious pleasure of getting his hands on her kidnapper, allowing a hum of anticipation to override his debilitating pain.

  It was the only way to keep his sanity.

  “Did you discover anything?”

  Kaede snapped into his role of executive assistant, flipping open the file folder.

  “Names,” he said, handing over a stack of papers. “But no known addresses.”

  “Let me see.” Bas scanned the top page. “Stephan Reyes?” He glanced up in surprise. The Sentinel had been his right-hand man before he’d gotten into a drunken fight wit
h another Sentinel over a woman. “Isn’t he dead?”

  Kaede shrugged. “We never found his body.”

  “Good point.” Bas tossed the paper aside. “But Stephan was trained by the monks. The kidnapper wasn’t.” He scanned the next paper. “Russell Harvey?”

  “He was the healer who we caught experimenting on norms.”

  Bas wrinkled his nose. The man had been a true genius, but he’d been lacking any sort of ethics when it came to his medical experiments. Bas had drawn the line when he’d discovered the healer infecting young women with increasingly lethal diseases to see if he could discover the power to cure them.

  They still had no idea how many he’d killed before they caught him and ordered him to leave.

  It was only because he truly had a gift for healing that Bas hadn’t destroyed him on the spot.

  “I’d nearly forgotten about that SOB.” His lips curled in disgust. “This is exactly the sort of sick game he would enjoy playing.”

  Kaede nodded. “Agreed. But I don’t think we should assume anything until we have all the facts.”

  Bas sent his companion a wry glance. “Logic from you, Kaede?”

  Kaede flashed a smile, pretending he didn’t exist on the edge of violence. “One of us has to keep his head.”

  With a shake of his head, Bas took out the last sheet of paper.

  “Lee Sandoval?” He frowned. “The name isn’t familiar.”

  “He was Jael’s lover.”

  Jael. Abruptly he recalled the pretty, quick-tempered witch who had an unfortunate habit of trying to lure him into her bed. A pain in the ass.

  The only reason he’d kept her around was because she had a talent for creating unbearable pain. A skill that had made Bas a fortune from human dictators who wanted to torture a prisoner.

  It took longer to remember the awkward, unsociable male who’d been her lover.

  “The computer geek,” he at last said.

  “He was also a psychic, although he rarely used his powers,” Kaede said. “We assumed it was because they were embarrassingly weak. Now I wonder if he wanted to keep them hidden so we would underestimate him.”

  Bas frowned. “Why?”

  “He was the sort who liked to fly under the radar,” the warrior said, his voice filled with disdain. “There were a few rumors that he was using his computer skills to skim money and transferring it to a secret account.”

  A thief in his house?

  Bas stiffened in outrage.

  “Why wasn’t I told?”

  “It was all just nasty gossip, I couldn’t find any proof,” Kaede said, excusing his decision not to turn the bastard over to Bas. “Still, when Jael was killed and he announced he was leaving I decided to let him go. It was the best solution to a messy problem.”

  Bas felt a momentary pang of regret.

  Jael had been in Bangkok when she’d been ambushed by a gang of humans who’d tied her to a stake and burned her alive.

  Bas suspected the norms had belonged to the Brotherhood, but there hadn’t been any direct links to the cult and he’d had to content himself with tracking down two of the bastards responsible and killing them as slowly and painfully as possible.

  After the tragedy he hadn’t considered Jael’s lover, or what had happened to him.

  Now he had to wonder if Sandoval had used his inside knowledge of Bas’s operation to slip in and steal Molly.

  “He would know about Anna and the price that cities would pay to get rid of her,” he said slowly. “But it’s a risky plan and there’s easier ways to make money than kidnapping or blackmail. Especially for a psychic.”

  Kaede shook his head. “This isn’t about money.”

  Bas met the warrior’s steady gaze. “Then what?”

  “Sandoval blames you for Jael’s death.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fane slowly opened his eyes, astonished to discover that he’d slept for over four hours.

  He could have chalked up the rare occurrence to the heavy toll healing his wounds took on his body. Or even the large meal he’d eaten after his shower to replace his lost blood.

  But he knew that the explanation was the warm, lush woman tucked tightly in his arms.

  Remaining utterly motionless, Fane savored the rare moment.

  Soft silken skin. Lush, womanly curves. Chamomile and moonlight.

  Was there anything more intoxicating?

  With a soft sigh, Serra turned in his arms, wiggling her perfect ass until it was pressed against his cock.

  A cock that was already fully aroused and eager to seek out the moist heat of Serra’s body.

  With a low groan, Fane forced himself to loosen his grip on the luscious female and slip silently from the bed.

  As much as he wanted to remain in bed, kissing a path down the curve of her spine until she spread her legs in invitation, he had been awakened by a distinctive chirp of his cell phone.

  It was a text from Marco, one of the Sentinels Wolfe had sent to St. Louis.

  Pulling on a pair of cargo pants that had been sent at the same time as the tux along with a pile of clothing he hadn’t bothered to pull out of the bags, he glanced at his phone.

  Heaven

  He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Serra’s tousled hair before moving out of the bedroom and across the dark sitting room. He paused at the door, punching a series of numbers into his phone to trigger the tiny device he’d planted when he’d paid a visit to the spy in the hotel suite across the hall.

  The device would release an odorless gas that would knock out anyone in the room for a short period of time.

  He counted to one hundred, then slowly opened the door, allowing his powers to disrupt any nearby surveillance equipment as he headed toward the back of the hall to the fire escape.

  Another burst of power disabled the alarm on the door and he was in the stairwell, heading toward the roof.

  Marco’s message HEAVEN had indicated he was waiting for Fane on top of the building.

  Pushing open the door that led to the helicopter pad, Fane stepped out of the building. He halted as the warm breeze wrapped around him, absorbing the various scents. He never walked into an unfamiliar place without assuming it was a trap.

  Confident that there were no hidden dangers, he walked forward, already prepared when the tall, broad-shouldered male dressed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt stepped out of the shadows.

  Even without the tattoos there was no mistake what Marco was.

  Hunter.

  Predator.

  His face was lean with the high, chiseled cheekbones of his Slavic ancestors and a narrow blade of a nose. His black hair was ruthlessly pulled into a braid that hung past his shoulders. His eyes were ice blue and rimmed with indigo, shimmering with a disturbing intelligence in the security lights.

  A dragon tattoo circled his neck, hiding the scars from his battle with a crazed group of humans who’d managed to capture him on his way back to his monastery. The bastards had hung Marco from a tree and left him to die. It was rumored it’d taken him over a week to get free.

  The fact that the scars had never faded revealed just how close he’d hovered near death.

  That kind of experience changed a man.

  Made him harder. Grimmer. Unpredictable.

  It also made Marco one of the most lethal hunters in Valhalla.

  Which was no doubt why Wolfe had sent him.

  “You have information?” Fane asked, not bothering with chitchat.

  Leaving Serra alone for even a few minutes was scraping against his raw nerves. Besides, Marco wasn’t a chitchat kind of guy.

  Marco nodded, shoving a picture of a building into Fane’s hand.

  “I followed the secretary from Hull Insurance to this location.”

  Fane studied the plain brick structure surrounded by a high fence. He frowned as he read the sign at the front of the building.

  “A lab?”

  “Doubtful.” Marco shoved another ph
oto into his hand. Fane grimaced as he recognized Bas and Kaede stepping out of the stretch limo. “These men arrived there a few hours ago.”

  “Bas.” The name came out as a low growl. “This must be where he keeps his people.”

  “I’ve spotted five high-bloods plus these two,” Marco said, his voice low and as rough as gravel. A result of his injuries. “My guess is that there are several more inside.”

  “How close did you get?”

  “Not close enough.” Marco gave a frustrated shake of his head. “The place is wired like the damned Pentagon. One wrong step and I would have triggered a dozen alarms.”

  “Don’t take any chances,” Fane commanded. “I don’t want the bastard knowing we’ve found his bat-cave.”

  Marco nodded, planting his hands on his hips. “I want to take Serra out of here.”

  Fane grimaced. “Not right now.”

  The older man scowled. “Dammit, Fane, she’s obviously in danger. I could sneak her—”

  “No,” Fane said, sharply shutting down the suggestion. He didn’t want any of his brothers making the mistake that they could solve the situation by “rescuing” Serra or killing Bas. “She’s been poisoned by the assassin. Only he can remove the toxin.”

  The ice-blue eyes narrowed in shock. “Assassin? Goddammit. This is bad.”

  “No shit.”

  “What can I do?”

  “We were attacked earlier tonight by two humans that we suspect had been spelled to decompose on death.” Fane’s voice was flat. A sure indication he was battling a tidal wave of emotions.

  “A witch?”

  Fane shrugged. “Perhaps. They also had a mind-stunner. So obviously money is no object. Whoever it is could have paid the witch to perform the spell.”

  “Or they could be hired guns who placed the spell on themselves for added security,” Marco suggested. “A client would be more likely to hire assassins who couldn’t be traced.”

  Fane nodded. “Good point. Do you have any contacts that would know about professional hit men?”

  Hunter Sentinels usually had a network of spies they could tap when they needed info that they couldn’t get by more formal resources.