“Yes.” She managed a smile, knowing he was already trying to find a way to keep her from continuing the search for Molly. “He just stunned me.”
The dark gaze searched her upturned face for any hint she was still in pain, the heat of his skin almost scorching. A sure sign of his agitation despite his grim composure.
“I don’t suppose you’d return to the hotel?”
She hid a smile at his resigned tone. He was learning.
“No, we’re too close now.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” he muttered.
“I feel it,” she said. They weren’t empty words. She could feel a strange buzz that made her adrenaline rush through her body. Of course, it could be the toxin beginning its destructive path to her ultimate death, she wryly acknowledged. “Besides, I want to keep Bas in my sights until he’s removed his freaking spell.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, his body tense with frustration.
“Fine, but—”
“Don’t get killed.” She stroked her fingers down the line of his clenched jaw. “I get it.”
He swooped down to kiss her with a fierce urgency. Then, just as she was swaying against the solid wall of his chest, he was gently pulling away and reaching for his phone.
She frowned as he tapped in a short message and hit SEND. Nervously, she glanced toward Bas as he left the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Marco to return to the lab,” he murmured so softly Serra barely caught the words.
“Why?”
“I intend to make sure the assassin keeps his promise.”
She grabbed his arm, remembering Bas’s conversation with Sandoval.
“Bas said there were spells—”
“There are guardians with him who can get past any magic,” Fane assured her, referring to the tattooed Sentinels like him who were immune to most magic.
“What about the alarms?” she pressed. It was ridiculous to worry about Marco. He was a trained warrior who’d been charging into danger for over a century, but that didn’t keep her from being concerned. “Bas won’t have left it unguarded.”
He sent her a tight smile as he reached into his pocket to pull out the small piece of paper he’d found on Sandoval.
“I have the codes.” Swiftly he typed them into his phone. Then, with a smooth motion he was shoving the paper and his phone back into his pocket, pressing a finger to her lips. “Shh.”
At that precise minute Bas stuck his head back into the room, his expression tight with impatience.
“Are you coming or what?”
Wolfe followed the Mave as she moved to stand near the wagon, taking a position at her side.
This time he was happy to allow her to take the lead. He could fight any norm and most high-bloods, but magic . . .
That was Lana’s area of expertise.
A young female climbed out the back of the wagon, her pale face surrounded by a mop of reddish curls making her appear ridiculously young.
“Stay back,” she called out, her voice not quite steady.
Lana stepped forward, her face calm as she confronted the nervous witch.
“I can help.”
The girl shook her head. “No.”
“Your spell is fracturing.”
“We will repair it after you leave.”
“It’s beyond your ability.” Lana took another step closer, pretending she didn’t hear Wolfe warn her to stay back. “You need my help.”
The young woman licked her lips, her gaze flickering toward Lana’s brilliant emerald witch mark. Even from a distance the female would have to sense Lana’s power.
“Who are you?”
“Your Mave,” Lana said, using a trickle of magic to ensure that her voice carried to the other high-bloods hidden in the wagon.
The girl gave a sharp shake of her head. “Not mine. We don’t accept your authority.”
Wolfe moved until he was once again at Lana’s side. “That seems to be going around,” he murmured.
She sent him a chiding glance before returning her attention to the wagon.
“I assume you’re referring to the fact that you’ve given your loyalty to Bas?”
The young witch gave a small gasp of shock. “How did you know?”
“I have my spies everywhere,” Lana murmured, digging her elbow into Wolfe’s side when he gave a low snort. “We have to get Anna to a stable location.”
“No.” The woman remained stubborn despite the fear she couldn’t disguise.
Lana curled her hands in fists of annoyance. Clearly she hoped to avoid any further violence, but time was running out on returning the dangerous high-blood to a safe location.
“Do you understand the disruptions she’s already creating?”
“Better than you,” the witch muttered.
“Then you know eventually the humans will come searching for the cause,” Lana retorted, edging her voice with a powerful compulsion. Even Wolfe felt the urge to bow at her feet. “When they find you they’ll kill you.”
The woman gave a small whimper, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Still she struggled to fight against her Mave’s authority.
“All we need is an hour to rest and a new wagon.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Lana snapped. “You can’t believe I will allow you to leave here.”
The girl glanced to the side, as if seeking strength from her fellow traitors.
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to finish my job.”
Lana exchanged a frustrated glance with Wolfe, both of them baffled by the girl’s refusal to accept that she was trapped in a disabled wagon with a high-blood that would soon cause massive chaos.
“Why?” Lana demanded. “Does your employer demand that you give your life to his cause?”
The witch shook her head, her face ashen in the moonlight as she struggled against Lana’s magic.
“I’m not risking my life for Bas,” she hissed. “It’s for Molly.”
“Who?” Lana asked in puzzlement.
“His daughter,” the witch explained. “She was taken from us and the kidnapper demanded Anna in return for keeping her alive.” Genuine grief twisted the youthful features. “She’s only four.”
Well, shit. Wolfe ground his teeth together.
This was a complication they didn’t need.
“Dear God,” Lana breathed, predictably moved by the thought of a little girl in danger. “Who would do such a thing?”
The witch shook her head. “We don’t know.”
Wolfe placed a hand on Lana’s shoulder, speaking directly to her although he allowed his words to carry.
He wanted the witches to know he was running out of patience.
“It doesn’t matter why they have Anna out here. People are going to start to die.”
Lana nodded, shifting her gaze back to the young witch. “He’s right. Let me help.”
“Molly—”
“I swear on my honor that I will do everything in my power and in the power of Valhalla to rescue Molly,” Lana interrupted the protest, her composed authority giving the nervous young witch more assurance than any amount of pleading. “May I approach?”
The female glanced over her shoulder, clearly seeking guidance before turning back to Lana and giving a slow nod of her head.
“Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Serra climbed out of the car and studied the discreet three-storied brick building with a black awning over the front door. There were neatly trimmed shrubs beneath the tinted windows and near the curb stood a doorman along with several young valets, all dressed in black and gold uniforms.
It looked more like a posh hotel than a club.
“This is the place?” she demanded as Bas and Fane joined her.
Bas answered. “Yes.”
She glanced up and down the block situated in an expensive suburb west of the city. They’d driven to the location in reco
rd time, all of them aware that the witch would soon discover her partner-in-crime was dead.
If that happened before they could corner her, she might very well disappear.
“Not much of a crowd,” she muttered.
“It’s a private club,” Bas explained, his gaze taking a cautious survey of their surroundings. “Invitation only.”
Fane nodded, as if familiar with such establishments. A subject they would discuss in private. At length.
Serra frowned, realizing she could hear crickets.
Even a private club should have some sign of life, shouldn’t it?
“I don’t understand.” She glanced toward Bas. “Is it a brothel?”
“It’s a sex club.”
She lifted a brow. “What’s the difference?”
“There aren’t any pros here,” Bas explained. “It’s a place where willing participants come to explore their fantasies.”
Serra wrinkled her nose. Public sex with strangers was . . . yeah, not her thing.
“Isn’t that what a bedroom is for?” she muttered.
Bas sent Fane a mocking smile. “Lucky man.”
Fane kept his attention locked on the club, no doubt already having located every hidden guard and surveillance camera placed around the building.
“Is the witch in there?” he demanded.
“Yes.” Bas gave a sharp nod, concentrating on his former employee. “She hasn’t sensed me yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“How are you going to get us in?” he demanded of Bas.
The assassin pointed toward the side lot where several expensive cars were parked.
“Jael took me through an employee entrance at the back. We should be able to sneak in unnoticed.”
Serra barely heard Bas’s words, her entire body going rigid as her mind-sweep touched on the small, terrified mind she’d been desperate to find.
She held her breath, concentrating on the fragile connection as she reached into her pocket to pull out the tiny ribbon she’d been carrying.
Yes. The child was sleeping, but there was no mistaking it was Molly.
About to release her breath, Serra was baffled by the odd sense of another mind reaching out to the child.
Shit. She yanked her mind away. Was the child being watched by a high-blood who was monitoring her on a psychic level? There hadn’t been any hint of malevolence in the mind. Actually, it’d seemed more . . . protective.
Still, she might have given away the fact that they were searching for the child.
“She’s here,” she breathed softly.
Bas glanced at her in confusion. “Jael?”
“Molly.”
The assassin made a choked sound, grabbing the door of the black Mercedes that Kaede had parked at the corner of the block before jogging off to search the neighborhood.
“She’s alive?” he rasped, his skin paling to a pasty gray.
Serra gave a swift nod. “Yes. She’s sleeping.”
He released a shaky breath. “Where?”
There was the soft sound of footsteps as Kaede returned, but no one spared him a glance. The men kept their gazes focused on Serra as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her fragile bond with the child.
“I can’t pinpoint her exactly,” she said softly, slowly opening her eyes. “But she’s in that building.” She gestured toward the small brick structure at the back of the parking lot that looked as if it’d been renovated into a private residence.
She’d barely gotten out the words before Bas was shoving away from the car and heading down the street.
“Let’s go.”
Fane moved with blurring speed to stand directly in the assassin’s path, one hand pressed to the middle of Bas’s chest.
“Wait.”
The bronze eyes narrowed. “Release me, Sentinel, or—”
“You can’t rush in there without a plan,” Fane interrupted, his expression carved from granite. “Not unless you want your daughter to die.”
Snapping his fingers around Fane’s wrist, Bas trembled with the need to battle his way past the large Sentinel. Then, with a visible effort, he swore beneath his breath.
“Christ.” Bas released Fane’s wrist to shove his fingers through his hair. “There’s no way for me to approach without Jael sensing me.”
Serra turned to glance at the club. It was a large structure, but once Bas entered any high-blood in the building would recognize his presence.
“She’ll be expecting you and Kaede,” she said slowly, thinking out loud. “But she won’t be expecting us.”
Bas jerked his head to send her a suspicious frown. “What are you suggesting?”
“You and Kaede go through the employee entrance and track down Jael,” she said. “That’s what she’ll be anticipating.”
“And you?” Bas pressed.
“I’ll find Molly.”
The bronze eyes narrowed, the air vibrating with his tension. “How can I trust you?”
Serra shrugged. “Because you have no choice.”
Fane abruptly stepped to stand at her side. “She’s right.”
Bas pressed his lips into a flat line, his hands clenched into tight fists.
“Molly . . . is an innocent.”
Serra stepped forward, her face flushed with annoyance. “For God’s sake, there’s nothing in this world that could make me harm a child,” she snapped, pointing a finger in Bas’s face. “Not even you. Now go.”
Without warning Kaede placed a hand on Bas’s shoulder, his manner deliberately calm.
“She’s right. We have to go before Jael realizes we’re here and they lock down the club.”
Bas closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath to regain his shaky composure. At last he lifted his lids to stab Serra with a fierce glare.
“Get her out and keep her safe.”
Bas sent her one last warning glare before jogging silently across the street and becoming lost in the shadows of the night.
Fane waited until the two men had time to round the building before lightly touching her arm.
“Ready?”
She nodded, following his silent path down the sidewalk to approach the back building from the side drive that led to the parking lot.
They both halted beneath the branches of a large oak tree, studying the building in silence. It looked empty. The square windows were dark, and the front gate heavily locked.
But Serra easily picked up the buzz of at least three human brains nearby.
Fane leaned down to speak directly in her ear. “Wait here until I scout for guards.”
“But—”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “This isn’t up for debate.”
She heaved a resigned sigh. “Stubborn.”
“Cautious,” he corrected.
Stepping back, he disappeared in the darkness. Serra gave a small shake of her head. She logically knew a Sentinel couldn’t make himself physically vanish, but their ability to convince people not to notice them never failed to amaze her.
The healers had studied the strange phenomenon for years without being able to decide how they were capable of achieving the mental illusion.
Serra leaned against the rough tree trunk, still not fully recovered from Sandoval’s intrusion into her brain.
She might be happy that he’d revealed the name so they could track down the witch, but he’d left her with a headache that was going to last for days.
Five minutes passed before Fane silently appeared at the gate, giving it a sharp jerk to break the thick chain that was held together by a padlock.
No doubt the residents had been confident they were safe behind the wrought iron fence.
They were about to discover they were mistaken.
Fane gestured for her to join him, taking her hand as she passed through the open gate.
“Did you find anything?” she murmured in a hushed voice, not surprised he was leading her toward a side entrance.
“I took care of t
he two guards and disabled the alarms, but there’s a high-blood upstairs with the girl,” he murmured.
They climbed a shallow set of stairs that led to the double French doors.
“A witch?” she asked.
“No.” Fane halted, glancing in her direction. “A norm.”
“Strange,” she said before she abruptly realized that maybe it wasn’t so strange. The witch and psychic had both been high-bloods, but they had shown a preference for hiring norms to do their dirty work. Which would make their job easier. “Are you ready?” she demanded as Fane hesitated.
The Sentinel reached for the door handle, keeping his gaze on her pale face.
“There’s no need for you to go in,” he said.
She went on the tips of her toes to press a swift kiss to his mouth.
“I love you, but you’re terrifying,” she pointed out. “Molly would scream bloody murder if you try to get close. I prefer not to alert everyone in the neighborhood we’re sneaking away with a child.”
Fane reached to grasp her hand, tugging her until she was pressed against the blazing heat of his body.
“You love me?” The dark gaze seared over her face, lingering on the soft curve of her lips.
Her hand lifted to trace the tattoos that circled his throat.
“Was there ever any doubt, you big lug?”
He traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger.
“And you claim I have no romance?”
Bas and Kaede moved through the storage room and into the elegant salon that had been decorated to resemble an old speakeasy.
The ceilings were low with heavy wooden beams and there was a long bar that ran along the side of the room. There were several dark alcoves with wide leather benches and low tables for those who enjoyed sharing their sexual fantasies in public, as well as a small stage where two middle-aged women were giggling while doing an awkward striptease for two men Bas assumed were their husbands.
He headed directly for the stairs that led toward the private rooms upstairs. A slender young hostess in a microscopic black dress hurried to intercept him only to stumble to a halt as he sent her a fierce glare. He hadn’t bothered with an illusion to disguise his eyes that revealed him as something other than “human.”
Reaching the stairs, Bas motioned for his companion to halt.