Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(58)

“They were well trained, but not high-bloods.” He abruptly frowned. “Odd.”

“Why odd?” Bas shrugged. “If there were other high-bloods in town I would know.”

“They had a weapon that’s illegal for a civilian to own,” he said, referring to the mind-stunner that had disabled Serra.

The assassin lifted a brow, belatedly realizing how difficult it would be for a mere norm to get their hands on a banned weapon.

“True.”

“How much does a stunner go for?” Fane demanded.

Bas folded his arms over his chest, silently calculating. “On the black market they wouldn’t go for less than $2 million.”

Fane nodded. That’s the price he would have put on it. “That amount of funds should be easy to track.”

Serra cleared her throat. “It could have been stolen, you know.”

Bas and Fane shared a grimace, acknowledging she had a point.

“What else did you notice about the attackers?” Bas pressed.

Fane considered their clothing, dismissing it as too generic to give them a clue as to their identities. The same with the handguns. They could have been bought on any street corner.

Then he remembered the fluid, dance-like movements and the precise blows the attacker had struck.

Just like a chess player, a skilled fighter had a series of calculated moves that they used in battle. Moves they learned from their master or sensei.

“They were trained in Thailand.”

Bas studied his stoic expression. “How do you know?”

“From their style of fighting.”

The assassin made a sound of disbelief. “You can’t be sure they’re from Thailand just because of their fighting style.”

“You’re an idiot if you don’t listen to him,” Serra snapped, glaring at Bas.

Fane slid his fierce defender a startled glance, but Bas merely smiled with wry resignation.

“You’re right.”

Forcing his attention back to Bas, Fane struggled to concentrate on the conversation. As much as he wanted to toss the assassin out of the hotel suite so he could reassure himself that Serra was alive and well in the most basic way possible, he understood it was far more important that they track down the bastards who had tried to kill her.

“Did any of your clients have connections to the Far East?” he asked, the most obvious question.

“I’ll need to do some research,” Bas said.

“Do it quickly.”

Bas sent him a narrow-eyed glare, but he turned toward the door, clearly intent on sorting through his clients.

He’d reached the door when Serra abruptly stopped him. “Wait.”

He turned back, the bronze eyes shimmering with impatience. “Yes?”

“How could the corpses have disappeared so quickly?”

Fane stiffened, turning to study Serra’s profile. Damn, but she never failed to amaze him.

Not just her intelligence. But her rare ability to see right to the heart of the matter.

“They must have had companions close enough to retrieve them,” Bas muttered.

Fane shook his head, anger slicing through him.

Goddammit. How had he been so blind?

He should have suspected the truth from the minute the attackers appeared.

“Or they were spelled,” he ground out.

“Yes,” Serra breathed. “That would explain the sense of evil.”

Fane nodded. A wise person who wanted to hire a professional killer would pay the astronomical fee to have that killer wrapped in a magic spell that would be triggered if they were to die performing their mission.

The spell would rapidly destroy the bodies, leaving behind no evidence.

If they’d lingered only a few more minutes they would no doubt have seen the spell in action.

Of course, he should have suspected the truth from the minute they caught a whiff of the foul stench. Black magic always carried an unpleasant odor. The darker the magic, the worse the smell.

“Shit,” Bas snarled. “That would mean the kidnapper has access to a witch.”

“Have you considered the possibility the kidnapper might be a witch?” Fane asked. “Or some other kind of high-blood?”

Fane’s logic made the assassin growl in growing frustration, the air heating with the force of his suppressed emotions.

“Then it might not be a former client at all.”

They all sucked in a deep breath, mutually terrified that they’d been on a wild goose chase.

Every tick of the clock brought them closer to death.

Not only for Molly. But Serra as well.

Both unacceptable losses.

In the back of Fane’s mind he began to solidify his various backup plans if things went to hell.

“What about a former colleague?” he asked.

Bas scowled. “I told you, I had my people questioned.”

Fane gave a lift of his shoulder, relieved to discover he could move it without difficulty. That meant there hadn’t been any damage to his bone.

“There must be a few who no longer work for you.”

“A very few.”

Fane held his gaze. “Maybe you should give them a call.”

Bas stiffened, anger flashing through his eyes. He was a man who gave orders. He didn’t take them. Not even when they clearly were in his best interest.