Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(28)

“How can you be so certain?” the Sentinel pressed.

“Because they were thoroughly questioned the second I realized Molly was missing.”

Bas didn’t need to explain that the questioning had not only involved an intrusion into their memories, but extreme torture when he suspected he wasn’t getting the full truth.

“Fine,” Serra muttered with a grimace. “What do you want from me?”

“I intend to have you cross paths with those clients I’ve met in the past month,” he announced. “They won’t travel far from where they’re holding Molly.”

Bas wasn’t surprised when the psychic looked less than impressed. “That’s your plan?”

He shrugged. “It’s that or driving aimlessly around the city.”

She gave a toss of her head, her hair gleaming like polished ebony in the afternoon sunlight.

“Both plans sound like a waste of time,” she said.

Another time and another place, Bas would have been impressed by Serra Vetrov.

He liked aggressive, powerful women.

Now her refusal to be intimidated was a pain in the ass.

Goddammit. Did she think he needed the reminder that his plan was little more than a cross-his-fingers-and-hope-for-a-miracle sort of strategy?

“You’d better hope not,” he growled. “Your time is limited.”

There was a faint breeze, then the Sentinel was standing so close their noses were nearly touching.

“If you want to survive, you won’t mention your spineless method of coercion again,” Fane warned, his soft voice filled with a menace that would make grown men piss their pants.

“You’re right.” Bas forced himself to take a deep, cleansing breath, stepping away from the lethal warrior. Emotions were the enemy. “For now we are all working on the same team. It will be easier if we try to get along.”

Serra’s emerald eyes flashed with fury. “We’re not now, and never will be, on the same team,” she informed him in icy tones. “Just tell me where we’re going.”

“We’re going to a brothel,” Bas said, ignoring her pissy attitude. Who could blame her?

She blinked in shock. “Your client is a whore?”

“A madam.” Bas had decided to start with his latest client first and work his way backward. It seemed the only logical method. “With a very upscale clientele.”

The green eyes narrowed. “Did you kill someone for her?”

His hand lifted to touch the side of his neck where a mark of each of his kills was etched into his skin. His illusion might cover the physical evidence of his brutality, but each of the deaths was written on his soul.

“No, she discovered that one of her girls had the poor taste to set up a camera and was secretly blackmailing several of the customers.” Bas currently had the photos locked in his safe. You never knew when you might need a picture of a local congressman having sex with a whore dressed like a nun. “As you can imagine it wasn’t particularly good for business.”

“What did you do?”

“I had my psychic spend a few hours at the brothel,” he said, taking a wry pleasure in watching her eyes widen in disbelief. “It was quickly determined which of the girls were responsible.”

“You have a psychic willing to sell her gifts for money?”

“His gifts and yes, he’s quite happy to receive monetary rewards in exchange for his services.” Bas held her accusing gaze. This female had been born a freak, but she’d spent her life surrounded by people who loved and protected her from the scorn of the world. She had no idea of the cruelty that many high-bloods were forced to endure. Or sacrifices they made just to survive. “There’s nothing shameful in that.”

She curled her lips in disdain. “According to you.”

Bas gave a soft chuckle. How could he possibly resist tweaking her arrogant little nose?

“Of course, on this occasion he accepted a reward that was rather more personal than money,” he murmured. “He returned home a very happy psychic.”

A startling blush touched her cheeks and Bas felt a twinge of envy. For all Serra’s sensuality, she was still an innocent at heart.

Bas was fairly certain he’d lost that kind of innocence before the age of ten.

“Whatever,” she muttered.

Fane took a protective step closer to the psychic, his face as hard as granite. Clearly the Sentinel wasn’t amused by their banter.

All the more reason to continue it.

“They’ll be suspicious if Serra just shows up,” Fane snapped.

Bas smiled. “I’ve thought of a cover.”

Serra slapped her hands on her hips. “Don’t even suggest that I pretend to be a prostitute.”

“You could be looking for your guardian,” Bas offered.

“No,” Serra snarled.

“So fierce.” Bas lifted a hand to halt her angry protest. “You can say you are looking for a runaway high-blood. If they believe you’re here on official business no one will stand in your way.”

The emerald eyes flared with the urge to tell him to shove his suggestion up his ass, but with an obvious effort, Serra pointed her finger toward the door.

“Go wait in the lobby, I have to change.”