Gunnar puffed out his chest. Tiege snorted. Was the idiot trying to intimidate him?
“I have no desire to hurt you,” the Watchman said, holding out a beefy hand. “Give me the object and you can be on your way.”
“I told you.” Tiege regarded the male with open disdain. “I don’t have it.”
Gunner stepped forward, his expression hard with determination. “Then you won’t mind if I search you.”
With lightning speed, Tiege had his fingers wrapped around the male’s wrist and was squeezing with enough force to crush the bones.
“Touch me and I can assure you it will be the last thing you do,” he snarled, his free hand reaching to grasp the handle of Gunnar’s dagger so he could yank it out of the sheath.
The Watchman made a choked sound of pain, stumbling back as Tiege abruptly released his mangled arm.
“If you don’t have it then where is it?” the male demanded, cradling his arm against his chest.
Tiege shrugged, covertly glancing toward the airfield. Had Sloane managed to locate Jacob?
“I heard that Sorin of House Ebarron had acquired a new bauble,” he mocked, pretending to examine the blade on the dagger he’d just stolen. “You might ask him.”
Gunnar hesitated. The encounter clearly wasn’t going as he’d expected. “Then why were you in Vegas?” he finally blustered.
“Why any male is in Sin City.” Tiege flashed a taunting smile. “Sex. Booze. Sex.”
“Lie.” Gunnar scowled, clearly itching for a fight despite the fact that Tiege had just broken his wrist. “You came to use your powers.”
“Careful, Watchman,” Tiege drawled, relief racing through him as he caught sight of his jet pulling onto the nearest runway. No matter what happened to him, Sloane and the pendant would be safe. “You’re about to piss me off.”
Tightening his grip on the dagger as he prepared for the fool to attack, Tiege was caught off guard when the dark-haired male abruptly stepped forward.
“The female has it,” he said in harsh tones.
Gunnar frowned. “What?”
“He’s been distracting you so the female can escape, you fool.”
The male ignored Gunnar’s baffled expression as he turned to sprint toward the plane.
Shit.
Tiege didn’t hesitate as he leaped forward and used the dagger to slice through Gunner’s throat. The blow might not kill him, but it would keep him incapacitated long enough for Tiege to take care of the Watchman’s partner.
Ignoring the blood dripping from the blade, Tiege managed to catch up with his prey just as he reached the chain-link fence that blocked the path to the runways.
He reached out, intending to grab the male’s shoulder, only to be forced to leap to the side as the bastard abruptly turned and slashed a silver dagger toward Tiege’s face. He felt the tip of the blade scrape his jaw, but he’d already struck out with his own dagger, slicing through the Watchman’s lower stomach.
The male sucked in a pained breath, but he didn’t hesitate as he swept his leg toward Tiege, trying to knock him off balance. Tiege easily hopped out of the path, but he couldn’t avoid the blade that slashed toward his shoulder.
Pain exploded through him as the male sliced through his flesh and muscle.
Dammit. His lingering weakness had made him sloppy. Now he was paying the price.
Jerking back, he felt his arm go numb.
He had to end this. Now.
Clutching the dagger, he slashed toward the male’s face. Predictably, the Watchman jerked his head backward, leaving his upper torso vulnerable. Tiege instantly struck, driving the blade deep into the center of his chest.
He hit bone, and then the lung, but he missed the heart. Which meant the bastard was still capable of fighting.
Moving back, Tiege called on the dredges of his swiftly fading strength. He would have one last chance to— Tiege’s dark thoughts were interrupted as the male made a strange gurgling sound, his eyes going wide as he stared at Tiege in disbelief. Then, seeming to move in slow motion, the bastard tumbled forward, landing flat on his face at Tiege’s feet.
Tiege muttered a curse, his gaze locked on the obsidian blade sticking out of the Watchman’s back.
“Sloane,” he muttered, stepping over the dead male’s body and awkwardly climbing the fence.
He managed to make it over the top, but he lost his grip on the way down, tumbling onto the hard ground.
Instantly Sloane was at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as she urged him to his feet.
“You’re injured,” she chided, as if angered that he was bleeding like a stuck pig.
“I told you to get out of here,” he snapped, hating the fact that she was seeing him at his most vulnerable. For the first time in his very long life he actually cared whether or not a female found him worthy of her respect. “Even you should be able to obey a simple—”
“Not now,” she rudely interrupted, half dragging him toward the waiting jet.