Blood Assassin

  The assassin’s head jerked back as Fane clipped him on the chin with a right hook, sending him flying over the back of the couch.

  Climbing back to his feet, Bas grabbed a heavy ceramic lamp, throwing it at Fane’s head.

  “I warned you what would happen,” he snarled, still speaking to her despite the bloodthirsty Sentinel charging in his direction. “Do you think I won’t kill you?”

  The two men collided once again. Bas was clearly a trained fighter, but he was no true match for Fane. No one was except Wolfe, the Tagos of the Sentinels.

  Still, Serra knew that Fane was at a disadvantage because he couldn’t strike a killing blow.

  Not so long as Bas was the only one who could remove the toxin from her body.

  She had to end this before Bas managed to truly injure her guardian.

  Shaking off Kaede’s hand, she moved in a wide circle. She didn’t want to wade directly into the battle. She just wanted to capture Fane’s attention.

  Halting near the window, she shifted until she was in Fane’s line of sight without being close enough to get caught up in the violence.

  “Fane.” She wrinkled her nose as he glanced in her direction and Bas used his distraction to land a punch just below his left ear.

  “I’m a little busy,” he rasped, blood dripping from his nose and a large lump already forming on his temple.

  “I need to speak with Bas.” She took a deliberate step forward, knowing it would horrify her guardian to have her within striking distance. “Please.”

  The dark eyes smoldered with a fevered heat, a testosterone enjoyment at being allowed to release his pent up fury obvious in his tight smile.

  “Can’t it wait?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  He cursed, shoving Bas against the wall before stepping back and folding his arms across his chest.

  There was a tense silence as the two men glared at one another. The smallest twitch would send them back to flying fists and crunching bones.

  Then, with a mocking smile, Bas glanced in her direction.

  Serra squared her shoulders, studying the man’s lean face. Despite his smile, the assassin had lost his familiar smooth sophistication.

  Her lips twisted. No, it was more than a lack of sophistication. He looked like he’d been in a drunken brawl.

  His dark hair was ruffled and there was blood trickling from the side of his mouth. Not even his clothing had survived unscathed. The white silk shirt was stained red and the black slacks ripped.

  “Say what you have to say,” he commanded, as bossy as ever.

  Jackass.

  She met his accusing gaze without flinching. “We didn’t betray you, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

  The bronze eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have a secret meeting?”

  “No. Fane realized we were being stalked so we set a trap to catch him.”

  “And?” Bas prompted.

  It was Fane who smoothly answered. “He took poison and killed himself.”

  Bas snorted. “That’s it?”

  Fane met the man’s derision with stoic indifference. “That’s it.”

  Bas remained unconvinced. “You learned nothing?”

  “Maybe,” Serra murmured.

  Fane scowled, taking a step toward her. “Serra.”

  She refused to be intimidated. “You said it, Fane, we’re running out of time.”

  The dark eyes were hard with warning. “I don’t trust him.”

  Like she did? God almighty. The man had kidnapped her. Hell, he’d poisoned her.

  She’d sooner trust a rattlesnake.

  But she understood that she was between a rock and a hard place.

  “We don’t have any choice,” she stubbornly insisted.

  He shot Bas a venomous glare. “I always make sure I have choices.”

  Bas ignored the bristling Sentinel, taking a step toward Serra. “Tell me what you discovered.”

  Well aware of Fane’s disapproval, Serra kept her focus trained on Bas’s lean face, noticing the shadows beneath his eyes that had nothing to do with his recent battle with Fane.

  Inanely she wondered how long it’d been since he’d actually slept.

  “The man’s thoughts were blocked by a barrier, but we managed to discover he’d been hired by a third party,” she confessed.

  His features might have been carved from stone, but he couldn’t disguise the flare of hope in his bronze eyes.

  “Who?”

  “We didn’t get his name.”

  Bas clenched his hands. “Liar.”

  Fane made a low, dangerous sound as he moved to stand at her side.

  “Careful, assassin.”

  Serra kept her gaze on Bas. “He was taken blindfolded to an underground fight club.”

  Bas blinked, as if caught by surprise. “Fight club?”

  “Yes.” Serra nodded. “He called it the Dark Side.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Bas muttered.

  Serra grimaced. Well, crap. She’d been desperately hoping the name would mean something to Bas.

  So much for her grand plan.

  Then Kaede stepped forward, speaking directly to his employer.

  “It’s a very exclusive club. Only the fighters who’ve earned a reputation at other clubs are issued an invitation.”

  Attention turned toward the younger man.

  “You fought there?” Fane asked.

  Kaede nodded. “Once.”

  Bas sucked in an audible breath, the fragile hope returning to his eyes.

  “Where?”

  “It was in an abandoned factory,” Kaede said. “But it never stays in the same place.”

  Bas’s expression hardened. “How do we find it?”

  Kaede gave a lift of his shoulder. “I was contacted by a friend.”

  “Call your friend and get the location for tonight.”

  “I can try.” Kaede pulled his phone from his pocket. “We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

  Fane watched Kaede in narrow-eyed suspicion, no doubt assuming this was some sort of trap.

  “Why?”

  Kaede flashed the Sentinel a taunting smile. “I took his title of champion.”

  Bas made a sound of impatience. “Just call him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bas grimly glanced toward Fane, his expression rigidly composed despite the violent emotions that continued to churn just below the surface.

  Fear. Fury. Hope.

  And threaded through it all a vicious, throbbing pain from his cracked ribs.

  “You stay here,” he commanded, turning to head stiffly toward the door. There was no way he was going to reveal his growing weakness in front of the Sentinel. “I’ll call when I need you.”

  “No fucking way,” Fane growled.

  Sensing the Sentinel following behind him, Bas forced himself to turn and glare at the interfering ass.

  “Don’t for a second think you can give me orders, Sentinel,” he snarled.

  “And don’t think I’m going to allow you to confront the kidnapper without me.” Fane met his warning with the cold confidence of a warrior certain he could kick the ass of anyone in the room.

  Unfortunately, he was probably right.

  Even if Bas hadn’t been nursing at least three cracked ribs.

  Thankfully there was nothing wrong with his pride. It allowed him to meet the dark, lethal gaze with an expression of disdain.

  “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “It does if you decide to get yourself killed by charging after the kidnappers without a plan,” Fane informed him, his chin jutted to a stubborn angle.

  Bas snorted. “You make one ugly-ass mother hen.”

  “We’ve been through this before. If you die, Serra dies,” he growled. “I can guarantee you that’s not going to happen.”

  Bas wasn’t particularly happy with the edge of certainty in the man’s voice. Like he had a plan already set in
place. Something that might have troubled him if he didn’t have a dozen far more important problems to consume his thoughts.

  “I have plenty of muscle,” he bit out.

  Fane folded his arms over his massive chest, his tattooed face stripped of emotion.

  “Not as good as me.”

  Not boasting, a simple statement of fact.

  Before Bas could respond, Kaede was moving to stand at his side.

  “He’s right,” the younger man said with a grimace.

  Bas snapped his lips together. He was right.

  He might hate the bastard, but Fane’s reputation as a fighter was the stuff of legends.

  His pride was no match for his desperate need to find Molly.

  “Fine.” He held Fane’s gaze, allowing the Sentinel to see his ruthless determination. He didn’t want to kill the psychic, but he would. “But you both come. If we track down the kidnapper she might be able to pull Molly’s location from his mind.”

  He turned back toward the door where Fane was abruptly standing in front of him.

  “Where are you going?”

  Bas narrowed his gaze, his fingers twitching with the urge to wrap them around Fane’s thick throat and squeeze . . .

  Instead he was forced to content himself with a glare as a stabbing pain shot through his side.

  Soon.

  “I need to prepare my people so they’re ready when Kaede has a location.”

  Fane shook his head. “How do I know you’ll share the location with me?”

  Bas’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “You’ll have to trust me.”

  “Like hell,” Fane rasped.

  Feeling sweat begin to drip down his spine, Bas stepped around the looming Sentinel and out of the suite.

  He walked steadily toward the elevator, knowing Kaede was directly behind him, ensuring that Fane didn’t do anything stupid.

  He maintained his pretense of composure until the doors slid shut. Only then did he lean heavily against the side of the steel compartment, a low moan wrenched from his lips.

  Kaede used his key card to send the elevator directly to the parking lot beneath the hotel before moving to stand next to Bas, clearly prepared to catch him if he collapsed.

  Not an unreasonable fear.

  “How badly are you injured?” Kaede asked.

  Bas’s lips twisted. “A quick visit to Vicky and I’ll be as good as new.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Or as good as a man can be at my age.”

  Kaede sent him a questioning glance. “There’s no shame in being injured by a worthy opponent.”

  “Thanks,” Bas said dryly. Fantastic. He hadn’t felt shame. Anger, yes. A desire to return and finish kicking Fane’s ass. But no shame. At least not until his companion had mentioned the word. “Don’t you have some calls to make?”

  Kaede lifted his cell phone, clearly sensing Bas wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

  The silence lasted as they left the hotel and made their way to the lab that served as Bas’s current home.

  Reluctantly Bas allowed Kaede to help him from the car and into his office, the pain becoming almost unbearable by the time he was lowered into the leather chair behind his desk.

  “Have Vicky sent to me,” he ground out, sweat dripping down his face.

  Kaede gave a swift nod, heading toward the door. “Of course.”

  “And let me know the second you hear anything,” Bas called out.

  “You got it.”

  Kaede disappeared and Bas leaned his head against the back of his chair, closing his eyes as he released a weary breath.

  Christ, he was tired.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. Or ate. Or did anything that didn’t include trying to retrieve his daughter.

  Logically he knew he was close to the edge of complete collapse, but he refused to give in to the weakness of his body.

  Not when they had a potential lead.

  Or at least what he hoped was a lead.

  Groaning softly, he pressed a hand to his ribs, trying to think through the pain.

  The Dark Side meant nothing to him, but a fight club made sense. What better way to discover humans capable of becoming adequate hit men?

  And while it wasn’t necessary for the kidnapper to actually be at the fight, he had to have his people there to manage the club. People who could be convinced to give Bas the information he needed to find Molly.

  Of course he first had to depend on Kaede to find the location of the club.

  Dammit.

  He caught the scent of violets before the door to the office was pushed open and Vicky was crossing the room in obvious concern.

  Wearing a dress that floated around her slender figure and her red hair left loose to frame her features, she looked young and enticingly fresh. Like a sensuous elf.

  With a graceful movement, she sank to her knees beside his chair, her green eyes doing a swift survey of his less than pristine appearance.

  “Vicky,” he murmured. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  “You know you only have to ask for me to be at your side,” she said, lifting her hands. “May I?”

  He nodded, grimacing as much from the husky invitation in the healer’s voice as from the gentle press of her hands as they ran over his shoulder and down his arms before moving to his chest.

  He’d been fending off Vicky’s flirtations for the past twenty years.

  “You’ve been a good friend,” he assured her, grunting as she located the source of his pain.

  “Friend?” She grimaced, holding her palm over his ribs as she glanced up at him with open regret. “Not exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

  “It’s all I can offer.”

  Expecting her to drop the subject as usual, Bas ground his teeth as she continued to study his tense expression.

  “Because of Molly?”

  The unwelcome vision of a silver-haired beauty with velvet brown eyes flared through his mind. Myst. Instantly he slammed the door on the aggravating memories.

  “In part,” he said between gritted teeth.

  “And the other part?”

  “I don’t have any interest in a relationship.” The icy edge in his voice warned the healer that this conversation was done. “Are they broken?”

  Vicky lowered her head, accepting that Bas wasn’t going to change his mind.

  “Fractured,” she said, pressing her hands against his side. “This is going to hurt.”

  “Just do it.” The words had barely left his mouth when the heat of Vicky’s power slammed into him. “Shit.”

  He gripped the arms of the chair, the sensation of his bones knitting back together even more painful than the blow that had fractured them in the first place.

  Next a searing heat ran through the muscle and cartilage, repairing the damage.

  By the time the healer removed her hands and slowly straightened, Bas was panting as if he’d just run a marathon at full speed, his body shivering with shock.

  God. Damn.

  This was why he only used a healer when he had no other choice.

  “You need to eat and then rest for a few hours,” Vicky said, her face pale from the amount of energy she’d drained healing him.

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled ruefully at the sincerity in his voice. “It seems to be all I can offer.”

  Walking across the room, the healer turned to send him a wry glance.

  “Bas.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get yourself killed.”

  With a toss of her red hair, Vicky turned to leave the office, closing the door behind her.

  “Amazing how many people suddenly want me alive,” Bas muttered, easily dismissing the healer from his thoughts as he closed his eyes.

  He intended to concentrate on putting together a plan once Kaede found the location of the fight. Or at least consider his next step if the place couldn’t be found.

  Instead his exhaustion washed over him l
ike a tidal wave, dragging him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  He was unaware of the passage of time until the sharp knock on the door echoed through the office. Then he snapped open his eyes to discover that dusk had filled the office with shadows.

  Shit.

  With a faint groan he forced his stiff muscles into action as he pushed himself out of the chair. He was relieved to discover his pain was gone, but furious with himself for wasting an entire afternoon.

  “Enter,” he called.

  Kaede pushed open the door and stepped into the office, his gaze discreetly monitoring Bas as he moved around the desk to perch on the corner.

  Bas knew the younger warrior was judging whether he was fully healed. A practical precaution, but one that annoyed the hell out of Bas.

  It reminded him that he’d lost control of his notorious composure and charged into the hotel room like a hotheaded novice. And worse, he’d indulged in his primitive lust for violence, allowing himself to be injured when he needed every ounce of his strength to rescue his daughter.

  “You have a location?” he asked in crisp tones.

  Kaede nodded, handing a scrap of paper to Bas with an address written on it.

  “An abandoned warehouse on Broadway. Near the river.”

  Bas tossed the paper on the desk. “When?”

  “It starts in two hours.”

  “That’s not much time,” Bas muttered, concentrating on what had to be taken care of immediately. They’d have to make up the plan on the fly. A method he detested. Careful preparation was the key to success. Trite but true. “Send Damis and Aldo to scout the building and have the other Sentinels begin to infiltrate the neighborhood two at a time. Make sure they stay out of sight. We don’t want to spook the manager of the fights.”

  “On it.” Kaede whipped out his phone.

  Leaving Kaede to organize the troops, Bas moved to type the address of the warehouse into his laptop. He cursed as the satellite view revealed a three-storied red brick building that stretched half the block with boarded over windows and a flat roof.

  “Shit.”

  Kaede was instantly at his side. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s two dozen windows and at least six doors plus the loading bays.” He zoomed in for a closer look. “There’s no way we can keep a watch on all of them. We’ll have to go in.”