Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(85)

“Wait, Fane.” Serra halted his fun. “He really doesn’t know.”

Fane instantly sensed the tension in her voice. “What do you see?”

“He was contacted by a third party.”

“Name?”

Her brows drew together, as if she were struggling to get a clear image.

“The Dark Side.”

“That’s a name?” Fane asked in confusion.

“A place,” she corrected. “An empty factory . . . I think.” She abruptly stiffened, her breath hissing between her teeth. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“He was blindfolded when he was picked up from his apartment,” Serra explained her annoyance. “He has no idea where it is.”

Fane muttered a curse, but he refused to be outsmarted by some mysterious kidnapper. There had to be a way to get to the person responsible for taking Molly.

“How were you contacted?” he abruptly demanded.

“There was a man,” the stalker said. Then, without warning a smile curved the man’s lips as his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backward, dead as a f*cking doornail.

“Shit,” he rasped, kneeling beside the startled Serra.

She yanked back her hands, her expression baffled. “What happened?”

“The trigger we were worried about wasn’t magical,” he admitted, furious at his stupid oversight. Reaching down, he shoved the man’s mouth open, his nose curling at the foul stench. “He had poison hidden in a false tooth,” he said in disgust, giving a shake of his head.

“Poison?” She sent him a startled glance. “Who does that besides cheesy characters from action movies?”

“Obviously this guy,” Fane muttered. He couldn’t have known the man had a suicide tooth. But that didn’t keep him from being pissed the man was dead. “He must have taken the poison as soon as he realized he wasn’t going to escape.”

Serra’s expression became distracted as her mind picked up an approaching danger.

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered.

Fane rose to his feet, picking up the unmistakable vibe of high-bloods approaching from the parking lot.

“Sentinels,” he said, knowing it had to be the two goons sent by Bas. They must have realized they’d left the apartment building and had come looking for them. The last thing he wanted was to get caught with the stalker. Bas would know exactly what they’d been up to. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about the . . .” Serra’s words broke off as she straightened and waved a hand toward the corpse.

“He’s no doubt triggered to self-destruct,” Fane reminded her.

She shuddered, heading toward the door. “Convenient.”

Fane gave a last glare at the idiot hit man who’d denied him the knowledge he needed to protect Serra.

“Not really.”

Chapter Twenty

Bas’s neck ached from the afternoon spent at his computer.

He was familiar with the big names in illegal arms, and the businesses they used to whitewash their ill-gotten gains. Still, he’d nearly missed the bank transfers to a particularly nasty dealer south of the border. They’d been shifted through more than one business and labeled as payment for medical supplies. It was only because the name of the corporation caught his eye that he pulled up the account for closer inspection.

“What the hell?” he muttered, clicking through the bank accounts as Kaede crossed the floor of his office to glance over his shoulder.

“Have you found something?”

“I’ve tracked all these bank transfers to one account in Kansas City.”

“Kansas City?”

“Girard Import and Export.” Bas frowned. “Where have I heard that name?”

“It is familiar,” Kaede agreed.

Bas pulled up the information on the corporation, his breathing hissing between clenched teeth at the list of stockholders.

“Damn.”

Kaede instinctively reached to palm the handgun holstered at his lower back.

“What’s wrong?”

“The Brotherhood,” he rasped, his voice laced with disgust.

Kaede made a sound of surprise. “Do you think it’s possible?”

Bas frowned in confusion.

Did he?

Nearly fifty years ago, he’d stumbled across the secret organization.

It wasn’t the usual hate group filled with norms who needed someone to blame for their shitty lives. Or the unstable high-bloods who hated the fact they were mutants.

This organization was well funded, dangerously armed, and, most disturbing of all, they seemed to have the means to actually sense high-bloods.

A toxic combination.

Bas kept informal tabs on those he’d identified as part of the group, but since they seemed more interested in their own nasty politics within the organization, he’d done nothing to alert Valhalla to their presence.

If they ever became too dangerous, he’d decided to take care of them on his own.

Now he had to wonder if they’d grown tired of their in-fighting and decided to strike against him and his people.

“They’ve made a pledge to destroy high-bloods, but I assumed their tactics would be far less subtle,” he said slowly.