Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(33)

There were always those pervs who preferred to get off by watching others.

Angling his body to protect Serra from the john, he kept his arm tightly around her shoulders as they came to the end of the passageway and Madame Wagner used her keys to open a door that led to another staircase.

A few minutes later they were standing in a cramped attic that had been converted to an office complete with several monitors that were hastily shut down by the male guard as they entered the room.

No doubt they were surveillance cameras to keep track of their workers.

Which begged the question as to how one of the girls had managed to hide a camera in her room without anyone’s knowledge.

Was one of the guards in on her scam?

It would be easy for the man to secretly record the action and then convince one of the girls to act as a front to blackmail the men.

Fane gave a mental shrug. He didn’t really give a shit. All that mattered was whether the child was being held in the house.

Madame Wagner matched his sentiment, her lips tight as she glared at Fane. “Are you satisfied?”

“Serra?” he prompted.

She shook her head. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for their irritated escort, Fane grasped her elbow and swiftly retraced their steps. He kept the gun held loosely at his side. A redundant threat, of course. His grim expression was enough to make people scurry away in fear.

Stepping out the back door, he brought Serra to a halt in the shadows of the terrace, just out of sight of the parking lot.

“Well?” he asked softly.

Serra knew exactly what he was asking. “When we spoke of high-bloods Madame Wagner visualized a short, gray-haired man I assume was Bas wrapped in illusion. There was something . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “Familiar about him.”

Fane nodded. The more she was exposed to Bas, the easier it would be for her to strip away the illusion.

“Was he alone?”

“No. Kaede was with him.”

“Did you get anything new about him?”

“They met at a small office building,” she said, proving just why she was so successful as a psychic. It wasn’t just her power, but her perception that made her so dangerous. “There was something painted on the window.”

“What?”

“Hall . . .” She faltered as she tried to recall the memory. “No wait, it was Hull. Hull and Sons Insurance Company.” She gave a small frown as he yanked out his phone and swiftly punched in a message. “What are you doing?”

“Sending a text to Wolfe to check out the company.”

She instinctively glanced toward the trellis that hid them from Bas’s watchful gaze. “How much does the Tagos know?”

“He’s not stupid,” Fane said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “He knows something is wrong, but he’ll wait for my signal before sending in the Sentinels he has spread throughout town.”

Serra didn’t know why she was surprised that there were Sentinels hidden throughout the city.

Once Fane had trailed her to the Cavrilo International Building he would instantly have sent word to Valhalla. Which meant Wolfe would have sent warriors by portal to the nearest monastery as soon as Fane called. The Tagos knew better than anyone that Fane would never ask for backup.

Still, she had to admit there was a sense of comfort in knowing her friends were out there keeping a watch on them.

Even if they couldn’t actually help.

Wiping her face of all expression, she left the protection of the terrace and crossed toward the waiting Mercedes. Instantly Bas was out of the car to pull open the back door.

“Nothing?” he muttered as she settled on the seat.

“Molly isn’t here.”

His face tightened with disappointment, but ignoring Fane who pushed past him to join Serra, the assassin returned to the driver’s seat and put the car in motion.

Bas was obviously a man who didn’t waste time on regrets.

“You could have easily bypassed security and checked for yourself,” Fane said, as they left the parking lot and headed for the nearby Mississippi River.

“I couldn’t sense Molly if she was being hidden in a secret room,” Bas argued. “Besides, if the kidnapper suspects I’m searching for Molly . . .” He was forced to halt and clear his throat. “I’m not willing to take the risk.”

Serra turned her head to watch the passing scenery. Not that she actually cared about the brick warehouses and rows of cargo trailers waiting to be loaded on the next available barge. She just didn’t want to see Bas’s fear for his daughter.

He was the enemy.

She wasn’t about to feel sorry for the bastard.

“Now where?” she muttered, her frustration abruptly bubbling to the surface.

“The terminal.”

She turned back to meet his glance in the rearview mirror, her eyes wide with a faux confusion.

“We’re going to travel by bus?”

“The river terminal.”

“Oh goodie. We’re going to travel by boat?”

The bronze eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

She smiled. Busted.

“I doubt it takes much effort to piss off a murderous bastard,” she said sweetly.

“Not today,” he agreed.