Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(59)

Stubborn bastard.

Before he could open his mouth, however, the door to the suite was shoved open and Kaede stuck his head into the room.

“We have trouble.”

“Christ.” Bas moved to join his enforcer, his body rigid with the need to strike out. “What now?”

Kaede stepped into the room to speak directly in Bas’s ear, his voice pitched low, thankfully unaware that Fane’s hearing was enhanced enough to catch the merest whisper.

“I have to go,” Bas growled, moving to follow Kaede as he headed into the hallway.

Serra abruptly surged to her feet, her hands clenched. “What about me?”

Bas sent her a dismissive frown. “I’ll be in touch.”

Absently dodging the vase that Serra threw at his retreating back, the assassin slipped out of the room and firmly closed the door.

Serra watched the vase splinter against the wall with a sense of satisfaction.

She’d only wished it’d smashed against Bas’s bloated, arrogant head.

He’d be in touch?

That was it?

She was hours from death and he’d be in touch?

The jackass.

“Woodward,” Fane murmured, still seated on the sofa with his legs outstretched and his head leaning against the cushions.

Her breath was squeezed from her lungs as she noticed his lingering pallor and the shadows beneath his dark eyes.

God, she’d come so close to losing him.

Too close.

The knowledge was like an open wound in the center of her heart.

Momentarily forgetting her fury toward Bas, Serra turned to give Fane her full attention.

“What?”

“That’s what Kaede whispered to Bas.”

She didn’t bother to ask how he could possibly have overheard Kaede. The man had the hearing of a freaking bat.

“Woodward?” She wrinkled her nose. “A person?”

“Impossible to say.”

Struck by a sudden thought, she leaned down to grab her tiny purse. It had been sheer instinct that had kept her clutching the thing through the crazy-ass night, but now she was glad she had.

Opening the purse she removed her cell phone and pulled up the Internet, swiftly typing in the name.

“Maybe not impossible,” she murmured, scrolling through the links.

A ski resort . . . a reporter . . . a handful of small businesses. . .

“Anything?”

She frowned, returning to the top story. “A citywide blackout hits Woodward, Oklahoma.”

“Is there a reason given why?”

She clicked on the link, swiftly scanning the story.

“Not yet. It’s being investigated, but at last report the blackout is spreading.”

“It’s a possibility.” Fane pulled his own phone from his pocket, punching in a short message that was no doubt heavily coded. “I’ll have Wolfe investigate. Anything else?”

She shook her head. “Nothing that jumps out at me.”

With an effort to disguise his lingering weakness, Fane rose to his feet.

“Let me know if you find anything.”

She stepped forward, pressing a hand on his chest as he swayed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to shower and change out of these ridiculous clothes.”

It was the innocence of his expression that set off alarm bells.

Fane was many things, but innocent wasn’t one of them.

“And then?”

He hesitated, almost as if he was considering a lie. Then realizing not even he could lie to a trained psychic, he heaved a resigned sigh.

“I want to do some investigating—”

“No.”

He arched a brow. “No?”

“No.” She planted her fists on her hips, determined to stand her ground. “You know what Bas will do if he finds out you’re sneaking around behind his back.”

He sucked in an outraged breath. “You think I’m incapable of slipping past Bas’s surveillance?”

Damn. She grimaced. She’d just broken the cardinal rule when dealing with a man. She’d pricked his delicate male ego.

Which was a certain way to make him dig in his heels.

Time for a change of tactics.

Softening her expression, she stepped forward so she could place a hand on his chest.

“I think you’re wounded and tired and the only place you’re going is to bed.”

The dark gaze lowered to her lips, his lips twitching. “Is that an invitation?”

Serra resisted the urge to slide her hand over the hard muscles of his chest, exploring his physical perfection.

His skin was warm beneath her palm, but it wasn’t the blaze of heat she’d come to expect when he was aroused. And even with his magical glyphs she could sense the pain throbbing through his body.

He was far from recovered from his injuries. Besides, she didn’t believe for a second he’d been distracted from his foolish desire to charge into the night looking for a way to break Bas’s hold over her.

“It’s an order,” she said in stern tones.

His brows drew together. “Serra.”

“I know,” she said. “The clock is running down, but you’re in no condition to try to creep around the city.” She pressed her fingers to his lips when they parted in protest. “Don’t even try to lie. You’re leaking.”