Queen of Quarantine (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #4) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,79

even if I gave him true love’s kiss.

Saint hammered his fist on the window Kyan was resting his head against and he jerked awake, reaching for a knife that wasn’t there before lunging ferally at the glass.

“We’re here,” Saint announced calmly. “Wipe the drool from the upholstery and grab a bag.” He popped the trunk and we all moved forward to grab the arsenal of shit he had stashed there.

“Jesus, Saint,” I breathed. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Six to eight weeks,” he said simply. “But I have always had a bag packed in this car for any eventuality since long before you came into our lives, siren.”

I had to admire his forethought as I shouldered a pack, but Kyan plucked it straight off my back and shouldered it himself.

“Um, I’m not a mouse. I can carry some shit,” I said, trying to swipe a bag from Nash but he lifted it above my head so I couldn’t.

“No, you’re a queen. We live to serve,” Saint replied, walking away and the others smirked at me like his words said it all.

It was totally eighteenth century of them but also damn sweet, so I just counted my lucky stars for these guys and headed after them with a blush lining my cheeks. Apparently chivalry wasn’t dead, even if the four of them were more than happy to ravish and corrupt me. I guess I got the best of both worlds.

We all followed Saint to a set of stairs that wound up into the building. When we stepped through a door on the first level, the faint scent of popcorn reached my nose and my brows arched as Saint flicked on a light, illuminating the abandoned foyer of a movie theatre with well-worn red carpet on the floor. There were still posters on the walls for movies dating back five years and old movie tickets scattered around the place. Saint kept walking, moving through a door marked for staff only and I shot a grin at Kyan beside me as he blinked groggily at our surroundings.

Upstairs was a large room with a window that overlooked one of the movie theatres, the huge screen layered with dust. The room looked freshly renovated with two double beds and a suite of leather furniture. There was a small kitchenette with a fridge which was humming softly, telling me it was on and as Saint popped it open, I spotted large bottles of water stocking it, as well as a row of vodka bottles and beers. He placed the vaccines inside, nestling them at the back.

“How long have you had this place?” Nash asked, his eyes wide with surprise as he gazed around it, taking in the huge TV on the wall and the brand new Xbox set up beneath it.

“Long enough,” Saint said as he took food from one of the bags, carefully arranging it in the fridge.

As he put some things in the cupboards, I noticed they were already stocked with tinned food. It was a freaking cache.

“You’re best to assume Saint can produce million dollar notes outta his asshole whenever he likes,” Kyan said. “It’ll stop your jaw from dropping every time he does something ridiculous.”

“Being prepared isn’t ridiculous,” Saint clipped.

“Being overprepared is,” Kyan tossed back. “Not that I’m complaining, brother. You’ve saved our asses here. And not for the first time.”

A smile danced around Saint’s lips and I felt one pulling at my own. He really was amazing.

Kyan tugged the fridge open, grabbing a beer and popping the cap off with his teeth.

“I’ll take one of those,” Blake called and Monroe headed over to grab one too, passing me a bottle before claiming his own.

We all sat down on the couch with a beer in hand as Saint finished putting everything away. None of us bothered to offer him any help because he’d absolutely refuse it. Saint was in his OCD zone, and he needed to put things in whatever order made sense to him. I’d learned that a long time ago.

“To being on the run.” Blake held up his beer and we all clinked our bottles to his before taking a sip.

I snuggled back into my seat between Kyan and Monroe and Kyan slung an arm around me. “So what now?” Kyan asked. “Are we gonna have to ride out the apocalypse here?” He sounded kinda hopeful as he eyed his baseball bat which sat among the luggage Saint was unpacking.

“Obviously not,” Saint said, but he didn’t elaborate beyond that.

“Sooo,