Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(14)

His gaze lifted to meet her furious glare. “I can be very persuasive.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“We’ll see.”

“No. We won’t.” Whirling on her heel, Serra headed for the door. She should have left the second the spell was broken. “I’m leaving.”

There was the unmistakable sound of a lock sliding into place.

“I’m afraid we aren’t finished, Serra.”

She jerked back to glare at her captor. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to find my daughter.”

Fane stood at the edge of the small park hidden in the shadows of the trees as he studied the towering glass building across the street.

According to Serra’s GPS she’d left her vehicle in the underground parking lot.

The question was why. . . .

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the screaming urgency to race across the street and rescue the female who’d claimed his heart years ago. He’d already gone to the trouble of circling the area a dozen times, making certain that he avoided the two cars that had followed her from the moment she’d hit the outskirts of town. He wasn’t going to reveal his presence until he was certain there was no other choice.

Instead he pulled the cell phone from his pocket and punched his speed dial.

The Tagos answered on the second ring. “Go.”

“Wolfe. I need information,” he said, his voice a low growl.

“You have her?”

Wolfe hadn’t been happy when Fane called to say what was happening. Hell, he’d nearly busted Fane’s eardrum with his opinion of Sentinels who had shit for brains. They both knew Fane had waited until he was too far from Valhalla for Wolfe to forbid him to chase after Serra without knowing what was wrong with her.

Now, however, Fane didn’t doubt the Tagos would do everything in his power to make sure Fane completed his self-imposed mission.

“I’ve tracked her to an office building in St. Louis,” he said, his gaze shifting to the smoke-glass doors that were stenciled in gold. “CAVRILO INTERNATIONAL.”

“Hold on.” There was the sound of tapping as Wolfe worked his magic on the computer. “Import/Export.”

“Smuggling?”

More clicks.

“They’re legit,” Wolfe at last said, his tone distracted. “At least on the surface.”

“But?” he prompted.

“It’s too squeaky clean.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Every company cuts a few corners when it comes to paperwork and regulations,” Wolfe said. “Unless they have a reason for not wanting anyone poking around.”

Fane studied the building, instinctively counting entrances, surveillance cameras, and the guards who were doing their best to lurk unnoticed in the shadows.

Even for a company worried about corporate espionage the security was over the top. Wolfe was right. This wasn’t just an import/export business.

It was a place of secrets.

And Serra was inside.

“I intend to do more than poke.”

“Fane,” Wolfe snapped.

“What?”

“Now that we have a location, I’m sending backup. Wait for them.”

It wouldn’t take long for the backup. Now that they knew where Serra was, the Sentinels could use portals to travel from Valhalla to the local monastery. Still, it was an hour drive from the monastery to this spot.

An hour too long for Fane.

“No f*cking way.”

“Fane. Goddammit. You get yourself killed and I’ll—”

In no mood to argue, Fane shut off the phone and shoved it into his pocket.

If Wolfe wanted to haul his ass over the coals when they returned to Valhalla . . . fine. Right now, nothing mattered but getting to Serra.

Chapter Four

Serra was still pissed.

No one screwed with her mind, forced her from her home, and terrified the life out of Serra without becoming her enemy.

But she couldn’t deny the stark words had touched her heart.

Dammit. She’d always had a soft spot for kids. Yes, she pretended to be a kick-ass, take-charge kind of female who didn’t have time for things like a family and a pack of brats. But beneath her brash image she was a huge sucker when it came to the precious munchkins, and she’d offered her services more than once to help the police locate a missing child.

“Your daughter is missing?” The words slid past her lips before she could stop them.

“Not missing.” A murderous fury glowed in the bronze eyes. “She was kidnapped.”

“I know the feeling,” Serra muttered.

“She’s four years old and a helpless norm,” Bas chided, his voice frigid. “I doubt very much you know how she’s feeling.”

Serra grimaced. The man was a jackass, but if he was telling the truth then she could understand his desperation.

What father wouldn’t be distraught?

“You’re right,” she said. “But, if she really has been kidnapped then she’s in danger. You need the police, not a psychic.”

“No police.”

“Fine.” She shrugged. “Then pay the money and get her back.”

He made a sound of irritation, the witch’s mark on the side of his neck deepening in color. She frowned as she realized beneath the eye-shaped mark were several small horizontal lines tattooed into his skin, disappearing beneath the collar of his expensive shirt. They looked like a barcode.