Blood Assassin

  “Bas, there will be a hundred people at the fight. Most of them pumped full of steroids and all of them armed,” Kaede warned. “Let me do some recon and—”

  “No,” Bas snapped, impatience twisting his gut. They had an address. A tangible location to try to trap the kidnapper. There was no way in hell he was waiting one minute longer than necessary. “There’s no time. We go tonight. Contact Fane.”

  He headed toward the door at the back of the office that led to his private quarters. He needed a shower and change of clothes.

  Then he was heading toward the warehouse.

  Hang on, Molly, he silently urged his fragile little girl. Daddy’s coming.

  Dusk was painting the sky in vivid colors of orange and violet and deep rose as Wolfe came to a halt to study the wagon tracks that were perfectly outlined by the powder-fine dust on the road.

  Around them the flat landscape was giving way to low hills and prickly shrubs that clung to the dry, rocky ground.

  A part of Wolfe appreciated the fact that they were at least partially hidden behind the hills and bushes. On the other hand, it made it impossible for him to see more than a few hundred yards.

  Which meant he had to stay on constant guard while keeping focused on the trail they were following.

  It slowed his pace, but he wasn’t about to walk into an ambush.

  Not when he had Lana with him.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he judged the scent of horse manure in the air. It was thicker than it’d been just a few miles back.

  “I think we’re gaining on them,” he said, a frown touching his brow as the unmistakable stench of a recently smoked cigarette captured his attention. “They must be going at a snail’s pace.”

  “They wouldn’t have any choice,” the Mave said, taking a drink from her water bottle. Despite the heat that coated her pale skin with a moist sheen, and the dust clinging to her jeans, she still managed to look as cool and dignified as a queen. “Even the wagon they’re using to transport Anna would have to be heavily reinforced with spells. It’s complicated enough to maintain magic under the best circumstances. It’s nearly impossible when you’re moving.”

  Wolfe absently followed the acrid scent of smoke and burned tobacco, his thoughts trying to sift through the various reasons anyone would waste that amount of magic just to transport a dangerous high-blood.

  “Bas must have an important reason to go to such an effort,” he muttered.

  “Yes,” Lana swiftly agreed, following behind him as he headed toward a large rock outcropping. “He’s flown below the radar for years. He wouldn’t have risked exposure if it wasn’t something he considered vital.”

  Wolfe agreed. Unfortunately anything vital to Bas, a man willing to use his own people as weapons, couldn’t be good.

  And quite possibly catastrophic.

  He paused, struck by a sudden thought. “There’s one angle we haven’t considered yet.”

  “What?”

  “How this connects to Serra.”

  The Mave halted next to him, her gaze scanning the horizon as she considered his words.

  “Is she still in St. Louis?”

  “She was just a few hours ago.” Wolfe pulled out his phone to check for any new messages. “I don’t have any info that she’s been moved.”

  Lana grimaced. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.”

  Wolfe knew which he was.

  Terrified.

  “Could she be psychically linked to Anna?” he asked.

  She considered before giving a sharp shake of her head. “Not at such a distance.”

  It’s exactly what Wolfe had expected, but that didn’t prevent him from cursing in frustration.

  “Then what the hell does she have to do with this?”

  She turned to meet his smoldering gaze. “A question only Bas can answer.”

  Of course it was. With a shake of his head, he continued around the outcropping, coming to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of the unmistakable indentation in the ground.

  Even with the stench of a recently smoked cigarette he hadn’t expected this.

  “Damn.”

  Lana was instantly at his side. “What?”

  He pointed at the ground. “Tracks.”

  The Mave bent down to study the wide tire grooves in the dust. “A car?”

  “SUV.”

  She straightened, her perfect, beautiful face bathed in the warmth of the sunset.

  “It could be a coincidence,” she said.

  Wolfe used his boot to kick the small pile of cigarette butts next to the rocks.

  “The SUV was behind this outcrop of rock long enough for the driver to smoke half a pack of cigarettes.”

  “Hunters?” she suggested. “Humans enjoy killing things.”

  “Possibly.”

  Lana didn’t miss the lack of confidence in his voice.

  “What do you think?”

  It didn’t occur to him to try and sugarcoat the truth. Lana wasn’t a female who wanted to be pampered and protected.

  Hell, she’d demote him to kitchen duty if he even tried.

  “I think that someone waited here for Anna,” he admitted. “Either to join them or shadow them.”

  She nodded, accepting his explanation without hesitation. Wolfe hid his wry smile at his stab of pleasure.

  Idiot.

  “Can you sense if they’re high-bloods?”

  He gave a shake of his head. If a high-blood had been in the area they would have left behind an electric charge in the air that would linger for hours.

  “Norms.”

  Lana sent him a startled glance. “Then it’s very unlikely they work for Bas.”

  “He’s prejudiced against humans?” It wasn’t an uncommon flaw among high-bloods.

  Many felt their special talents made them superior to mere humans.

  Not Wolfe. That sort of belief allowed a man to underestimate his opponent. Something Wolfe was never stupid enough to do.

  “Bas has no interest in anyone who doesn’t have a power he can exploit,” the Mave said, her voice edged with disgust. “He’s always considered humans beneath his notice.”

  “Charming guy.”

  She pretended not to hear his sarcastic remark.

  “Unless he’s changed over the years then the people in the SUV weren’t working for him.”

  That made it simple.

  If the SUV full of norms wasn’t part of Bas’s crew, then they’d been waiting behind the rocks for one purpose.

  “Then they’re following Anna,” he said grimly, pointing toward the tracks that ran parallel to the road.

  Lana didn’t bother to disguise her fear. “We have to get to her first.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fane peered around the corner, staring at the abandoned warehouse across the street.

  The plain brick building was shrouded in darkness, but it’d clearly seen better days. Several of the windows were boarded over and the front façade was spray painted with human graffiti.

  Still, it appeared structurally sound and in a neighborhood that was deserted after the sun set.

  The perfect location for illegal cage matches.

  He glanced toward the assassin who stood next to him. They’d parked several blocks away and made their way to the neighborhood through several back alleys that had made him gag in disgust. Nothing like piles of rotting garbage and human feces to make a man regret his heightened senses.

  Now Fane was anxious to be on the hunt. Dammit. Each tick of the clock was a brutal reminder that time was running out.

  It wasn’t going to take much for him to explode.

  Quite an admission for a man who’d once considered his rigid control to be indestructible.

  “You have your people in place?” he asked of the assassin standing at his side.

  Bas pointed upward. “I have two Sentinels on the roof and the rest spread through the neighborhood,” he explained. “Kaede is inside
.”

  Silently Fane added Marco and one other Sentinel loyal to him in hiding in the shadows. He’d sent a quick text to Marco as soon as he’d learned the address of the fight.

  If things went to hell he wanted to make sure he had someone he could depend on to get Serra out of danger.

  Not that their hidden presence made him any happier to have Serra walking into the potential trap.

  He grimaced, acutely aware of the female pressed against his back. He’d had a moment of insanity earlier, attempting to convince her to stay in the car while they investigated the club. He might as well have tried to ram his head through a brick wall.

  Stubborn female.

  “Did you find any info on the club?” he demanded of Bas.

  Bas shrugged, his attention locked on the warehouse. He was standing so close Fane could feel the tension that hummed off the man’s tightly coiled body.

  Fane wasn’t the only one on the edge of self-combustion.

  “From what Kaede could discover it’s a group of norms who make money betting on the fights, selling drugs, and pimping females in a back room.”

  A typical fight club.

  Which told him nothing.

  “No connection to a high-blood?” he pressed.

  Bas appeared equally annoyed with the lack of information. “Not that he could uncover.”

  “Which means that the kidnapper might have chosen to meet his potential hit men at the last fight club because it was a convenient cover,” he rasped. “He might not have any connection at all to the fights.”

  Bas smiled with lethal intent. “I’m about to find out.”

  Fane returned his attention to the warehouse. From the front it appeared deserted, but he easily spotted the two men leaning near the double doors in the center of the building. He didn’t doubt there were several more sentries posted around the place.

  It wouldn’t be easy to slip in unnoticed.

  “Did you get us invitations?” he demanded.

  “Better.” Bas reached into the pocket of his slacks to remove an old-fashioned key chain. As always the assassin was attired in a white silk shirt and black chinos that looked ridiculously out of place in the decaying neighborhood. Obviously he had more vanity than sense. Fane had on his usual camo and tee. “I have the key.”

  He scowled with impatience. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Kaede is scouting the interior of the building to make sure there are no hidden surprises.”

  A reasonable precaution, but Fane was in no mood to be reasonable.

  “How long can it take?” he snapped.

  “I prefer that he’s thorough, not fast.”

  Fane sent the assassin an irritated glare. “I can be both.

  “We’re trying to be discreet,” Bas muttered.

  “I can be discreet.”

  The bronze eyes widened at his simple claim. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  Fane met the mocking disbelief with a stoic expression. He often used his menacing appearance to intimidate others. He preferred to avoid actual confrontation whenever possible. But he was a trained Sentinel who could become virtually invisible when he needed to fly beneath the radar.

  “I could get all the info we need without anyone knowing I was there.”

  Bas’s lips twisted at his arrogant confidence, but before he could retort, there was a soft beep from Bas’s phone.

  “That’s Kaede’s signal,” Bas muttered, returning the phone to his pocket and nodding toward the far side of the warehouse. “We’ll go through the north door.”

  The assassin whirled around to head toward the back of the building they were standing beside. The crumbling mechanic’s garage would shield them from the guards out front.

  Fane turned, grasping Serra by the shoulders. “Serra—”

  “Don’t start,” she warned, going on tiptoe to place an all too brief kiss on his lips before she was hurrying to follow Bas.

  For a minute Fane watched her retreat, his gaze locked on her slender body dressed in casual jeans and a black sweater. Her raven hair was pulled into a sensible braid and she wore a pair of flat running shoes.

  He grimaced, a jagged pain ripping through him.

  Serra wasn’t meant to be slinking through dark, filthy streets with a lethal toxin pumping through her bloodstream.

  She was meant to be safely hidden behind the walls of Valhalla, dressed in leather pants and halter tops that made men forget to breathe when she sashayed past in three-inch heels. That was why he’d fought so hard to deny his attraction to her.

  His world was never safe. Now he had to accept that no place was entirely without risk.

  The only true way to keep her safe was to be at her side.

  Always.

  Pulling his handgun from the holster strapped over his chest, Fane swiftly caught up with Bas and Serra. Together they moved in silence, pausing as they reached the edge of the garage.

  Bas glanced up, waiting for a hand signal from one of the Sentinels on top of the warehouse roof before he darted across the street and into the loading bay at the end of the building.

  There was a tense second as they paused to listen for any sound of alarm. Only when Bas was certain they hadn’t been spotted did he unlock the side door and lead them into the vast open space that made up the first floor.

  Fane slid ahead of the assassin, making a quick search of the shadowed room to ensure that nobody was hiding behind the cement columns that ran the length of the warehouse.

  He returned to Serra’s side, giving Bas a short nod. The assassin pointed toward the back of the room before he was jogging forward. He ignored the massive open elevator that was the obvious means of transportation to the upper floors, instead heading toward the narrow metal staircase attached to the wall.

  They traveled to the top floor, at last stepping onto the narrow catwalk that framed the upper level, allowing them to have a clear view of the action one floor below.

  It looked like any other fight club, Fane decided. A large, chain metal cage set in the center of the dusty floor. A crowd of loud, testosterone-driven men screaming at the two fighters who were attempting to beat each other senseless. A handful of prostitutes leaning against a back wall to service the spectators, or perhaps offer comfort to the losers. And a few hired guns to keep the event running smoothly.

  There was nothing to indicate this was set up by the kidnapper.

  Halting in the deepest shadows, Fane felt Serra press close against his side.

  “How can they stand it being so loud?” she muttered, her face pale with the strain of being surrounded by such a large crowd.

  Fane grimaced, realizing that she was being assaulted by the violent thoughts and emotions that seethed among the crowd. He reached to grasp her hand, using his powers to blunt the worst of the psychic energy.

  “Norms don’t have our hearing,” he reminded her.

  “And they’re too drunk to notice their ears are bleeding,” Bas muttered, turning his head as Kaede appeared from the shadows. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” he demanded.

  The younger warrior shook his head. “No.” He gestured toward a heavyset man with dark hair slicked back from his face seated at a makeshift table. “The man in the corner is dealing coke.” Kaede moved his finger toward the girls. “The far door leads to a storage room where the pros are plying their trade.”

  Fane ignored the petty criminals, his focus trained on a steel door that was set in a shallow alcove.

  No doubt at one time it’d been a private office.

  “What about that door?” he asked.

  Kaede shook his head. “It hasn’t opened and no one has gone near it.”

  Bas moved further down the catwalk, his concentration centered on the cage where the two norms continued to battle one another with astonishing skill.

  “Those fighters are trained,” the assassin muttered.

  Fane arched a brow as the smaller of the two performed a butterfl
y kick that caught his opponent directly on the chin.

  Maybe there was more to the fight club than he originally suspected.

  “Well trained,” he growled.

  Bas nodded. “This would be the perfect method of auditioning soldiers, bodyguards or—”

  “Hit men for kidnappers,” Fane completed the obvious conclusion.

  “Yes.” Bas glanced toward Kaede. “Were you approached after the fights?”

  The warrior shrugged. “I’m always approached after I fight.”

  Fane didn’t doubt him. Kaede had the calm confidence that came from rigid training and natural skill.

  If he hadn’t been a damned traitor, Fane would have tried to convince him to join the Sentinels at Valhalla.

  Bas held his warrior’s gaze. “Do you remember anything in particular?”

  “The usual offer to meet with the upper management,” Kaede said in offhand tones.

  There was a hint of surprise on Bas’s lean face, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility the younger man had been offered alternative employment.

  “You turned them down?”

  Kaede shrugged. “I already have a job.”

  “Good answer,” Bas retorted wryly.

  Fane scowled. Good answer? The hell it was. If Kaede had at least agreed to meet with the owners of the fight club they might have some idea if they were high-bloods.

  Clenching his teeth, he allowed his gaze to scan the catwalk. If he wanted to watch the fights without being seen, he’d have a camera mounted from this angle.

  “Do you sense something?” Bas demanded, picking up on his distraction.

  “They have to be monitoring the fights,” he said. A grim smile touched his lips as he caught sight of the tiny devices tucked beneath the narrow catwalk that crossed the middle of the room. “There.”

  Bas leaned forward, studying the equipment with a knowledgeable eye.

  “Cameras.” The assassin abruptly straightened, a tight smile curving his lips. “Closed-circuit cameras.”

  Anticipation hummed through Fane, the air heating around him as he prepared to hunt down the kidnapper. He’d rip apart the warehouse with his bare hands if necessary.

  “I’m guessing the upper management is near,” he murmured.