Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(108)

“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 the 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.

“I can sense Jael above us,” he said. “But she might try to double back and escape out the front door. Stay here and keep a watch.”

Kaede nodded, moving to lean against the carved balustrade with his arms folded over his chest.

Nothing was getting past the onetime Sentinel.

Taking the steps two at a time, Bas swiftly reached the third floor of the club. He bypassed the closed doors, heading down the hall.

He’d just reached the end when the last door was yanked open and Jael stepped out of the room.

She was a small woman dressed in a low-cut red dress and wearing black f*ck-me-now shoes. Her long, light brown hair was left free to frame her pixie face and her brown eyes remained hard even when she smiled.

Those cold eyes were the only hint that she was a female who possessed a sick love for giving pain to others.

“Going somewhere, witch?” he drawled.

“Bas.” She stretched her lips into a humorless smile. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

Lifting his hand, Bas shoved the witch back into the lavish black and gold bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He glanced around the room that was designed with whips and shackles on the walls instead of artwork and a table in one corner with a pile of sex toys.

No visible weapons or lurking companions.

He returned his attention to the female who was eyeing him with a defiant expression that didn’t entirely hide the terror that pulsed just below the surface.

The bitch hadn’t expected him to track her down.

Which only made this moment sweeter.

“I see the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated,” he said.