Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(86)

Kaede shrugged. “I agree. When I investigated them they seemed more interested in sweeping genocide rather than guerrilla warfare. Still, they’re one of the few groups crazy enough to sacrifice an innocent child.”

True. Bas had the sense that they were twisted enough to sacrifice their own mothers if they thought it would serve their greater purpose.

Morons.

Still, he remained unconvinced.

“But what would be the gain?”

Kaede considered for a long minute. “If they had control of Anna then they could prove to the world just how dangerous high-bloods are,” he at last suggested. “It could spark a civil war.”

Bas tapped a finger on his desk. “Maybe.”

“What?” Kaede prompted, clearly sensing Bas’s distraction.

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Then maybe one of their members decided to go rogue,” Kaede offered.

“That’s a possibility,” Bas conceded. Greed was at the core of most atrocities committed by both norms and high-bloods. “Fanaticism might feed the soul, but it doesn’t buy you a Maserati.” Not a bad theory. So why did the doubt remain lodged in the center of his gut? He eventually hit on the obvious flaw. “But how would they know of Molly?”

Kaede straightened with a grimace. “A good question.”

There was a light tap on the door, interrupting their conversation.

Bas shut down the computer before pressing a button on the desk that released the lock.

“Enter,” he commanded.

The door was shoved open to reveal two Sentinels. The first to step into the room was Aldo, a large, bulky man with blond hair buzzed next to his skull and pale eyes that sparkled with more enthusiasm than intelligence. The second man, Damis, was Aldo’s exact opposite. A small man with a slender body and dark narrow face, he had black hair smoothed into a tail, and deep brown eyes that glowed with a ruthless intelligence.

They were both dressed in the standard uniform of jeans and T-shirts, but Damis had a diamond stud in one ear and a spider-web tat on the side of his neck.

“Well?” Bas demanded, rising to his feet.

“The psychic and her guardian have returned to the hotel,” Damis said.

Bas studied his warriors, knowing they wouldn’t have bothered to check in unless they had something to report.

“Did they discover anything?”

Damis spoke for both of them. Aldo wasn’t much for conversations. Not if they had to include more than grunts.

“They claim they didn’t.”

Bas moved around the desk. “But you suspect otherwise?”

“When we arrived at the first apartment building they disappeared for longer than it should have taken to search the place.”

Bas was instantly alert. Had they been meeting with someone from Valhalla?

“Did you follow them?”

“Of course.” Damis’s lips thinned. “We’d just tracked them to an abandoned shed when they took off in your car.”

“What happened?”

“We followed them until they’d searched the rest of the addresses and returned to the hotel.”

Bas wasn’t impressed. He paid his employees an obscene salary because he demanded complete loyalty and because they were very, very good at what they did.

“That’s it?” he demanded.

“No, we returned to the shed to see if we could find any clue as to why they’d been in there.”

Ah. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Did you find anything?”

The Sentinel reached into his back pocket to remove a shattered Taser.

“This.”

Bas held out his hand, allowing Damis to dump the pieces of plastic and electronics into his palm.

“What the hell?” He frowned as he realized his first impression had been wrong. This wasn’t a Taser. It was far, far more dangerous. He lifted his head to meet Damis’s dark gaze. “It’s a broken mind-stunner. How did it get in the shed?”

“We think the guardian and psychic must have followed someone in there and overpowered them,” Damis answered, although Aldo managed a nod of agreement. “Probably a hit man.”

“But why . . .” Bas snapped his teeth together. Shit. He didn’t have to ask why Fane would have wanted to get his hands on the hit man. And why he hadn’t wanted Bas to know that he’d spoken with the enemy. “That son of a bitch,” he growled, headed for the door. “Kaede, get the car.”

It hadn’t been Wolfe’s best day.

Driving a Jeep with the windows down along the dusty road in one hundred plus degree temperatures would be at the bottom of anyone’s list of fun things to do.

Add in his acute awareness that he had the safety of the leader of all high-bloods in his hands, and it wasn’t any wonder his head was beginning to ache.

Then again, it wasn’t his worst day.

He’d once spent an entire afternoon being skinned by his uncle who believed he had a demon inside him.

Hard to top that.

They’d traveled several hours in silence when Wolfe brought the vehicle to a halt, his senses on full alert.

“Here,” he murmured.

Lana peered out the open window, searching the flat, desolate ground with occasional corn fields and even more occasional groves of trees for some sign of danger.