Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(98)

Bas moved further down the catwalk, his concentration centered on the cage where the two norms continued to battle one another with astonishing skill.

“Those fighters are trained,” the assassin muttered.

Fane arched a brow as the smaller of the two performed a butterfly kick that caught his opponent directly on the chin.

Maybe there was more to the fight club than he originally suspected.

“Well trained,” he growled.

Bas nodded. “This would be the perfect method of auditioning soldiers, bodyguards or—”

“Hit men for kidnappers,” Fane completed the obvious conclusion.

“Yes.” Bas glanced toward Kaede. “Were you approached after the fights?”

The warrior shrugged. “I’m always approached after I fight.”

Fane didn’t doubt him. Kaede had the calm confidence that came from rigid training and natural skill.

If he hadn’t been a damned traitor, Fane would have tried to convince him to join the Sentinels at Valhalla.

Bas held his warrior’s gaze. “Do you remember anything in particular?”

“The usual offer to meet with the upper management,” Kaede said in offhand tones.

There was a hint of surprise on Bas’s lean face, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility the younger man had been offered alternative employment.

“You turned them down?”

Kaede shrugged. “I already have a job.”

“Good answer,” Bas retorted wryly.

Fane scowled. Good answer? The hell it was. If Kaede had at least agreed to meet with the owners of the fight club they might have some idea if they were high-bloods.

Clenching his teeth, he allowed his gaze to scan the catwalk. If he wanted to watch the fights without being seen, he’d have a camera mounted from this angle.

“Do you sense something?” Bas demanded, picking up on his distraction.

“They have to be monitoring the fights,” he said. A grim smile touched his lips as he caught sight of the tiny devices tucked beneath the narrow catwalk that crossed the middle of the room. “There.”

Bas leaned forward, studying the equipment with a knowledgeable eye.

“Cameras.” The assassin abruptly straightened, a tight smile curving his lips. “Closed-circuit cameras.”

Anticipation hummed through Fane, the air heating around him as he prepared to hunt down the kidnapper. He’d rip apart the warehouse with his bare hands if necessary.

“I’m guessing the upper management is near,” he murmured.

Bas nodded. “Probably behind door number one.”

Fane studied the open space in front of the door. It was too brightly lit and too distant from the crowd to simply stroll up to the alcove without attracting attention.

Even for him.

“The question is how we get a peek without attracting attention.”

Bas tapped a slender finger on the railing of the catwalk. “We need a distraction.”

Serra laid her hand on Fane’s arm. “I can—”

Both men spoke as one. “No.”

Serra scowled, but before she could insist on putting herself in danger, Kaede took command.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, leaping over the railing of the catwalk to drop to the floor below.

Fane frowned as the younger man disappeared among the shadows. There was no predicting what sort of distraction he was plotting.

He could only hope it didn’t include anything too flamboyant. The last thing they needed was human authorities showing up to raid the place.

One minute, then two ticked past. Fane ground his teeth. Dammit, what the hell was the enforcer waiting for?

Then, just when he’d reached the end of his limited patience, the throbbing music came to an abrupt end.

The silence was shocking, and as one, the entire crowd turned to glare at Kaede who stood at the edge of the warehouse, an unplugged electric cord dangling in his hand.

“Listen up you bunch of bitches,” he called out, dropping the cord so he could stroll toward the cage. “If you want a real fight, I’ll give a thousand dollars to the first man who can knock me out.” He held up a hand as a roar of fury shook the crowd. “But first you have to catch me.”

Tossing out his challenge, Kaede turned and swiftly headed toward the distant door, a hundred infuriated norms charging after him.

“Shit,” Bas muttered. “Let’s go.”

Bas leaped over the railing, closely followed by Fane and Serra.

Although a few stragglers remained, those too drunk to realize the party had moved, or too smart to fall into a potential police sting, they crossed directly toward the door.

With a concentrated burst of energy, Fane knocked out the cameras. Whoever was monitoring the fights was now blind.

Which meant they had to come out of their hidey hole to find out what was going on.

On cue the mystery door was shoved open and a large man with a shaved head and bulging muscles stepped out of the inner room.

Fane felt a familiar prickle of energy.

The man was a Sentinel.

A hunter, not a guardian, which meant he didn’t have any magic, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.

Thankfully, the man’s attention was locked on the fleeing crowd as he moved forward. A foolish mistake that he paid for when Bas stepped forward and laid a hand against the back of his neck.