Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle #3) - Jocelynn Drake Page 0,33

Wiley pressed.

She hummed and swayed back and forth for a moment as if dancing to a song only she could hear. “I don’t know a name, but I can see a lighthouse.”

“North Beach on Tybee Island. Georgia’s tallest lighthouse is there,” Wiley spit out with a grin. “Park at Mid Beach and walk away from the noise.”

“Fine. We leave in ten minutes. Be ready,” Clay snapped, tossing one last warning look at Cort before hurrying out of the room. He was not going to be bullied by the man. If he thought this was going to be dangerous for whatever reason, he was not going to let Grey out of his sight. Not that he could even begin to understand why it might be dangerous to go find this guy they were calling their “missing brother.” It was all crazy and confusing.

A soft hand landed on his arm, and Cort looked up to find Jo smiling at him. “Don’t worry. It will all make sense soon.”

The majority of the drive to Tybee Island was uncomfortably silent. Cort hadn’t gotten the chance to head out to the beach just outside of Savannah, thanks to his busy work schedule. He liked to think that if he had the chance, he’d be going with a friend. Grey would have been the perfect companion, but not like this.

Dark clouds were starting to move in from the south, crawling along the coast. A late-season hurricane had swept up along the Gold Coast of Florida and spun out across the Bahamas. They were only forecast to get hit with the outer line of storms, but they would include high winds and the chance for some hail.

When he’d heard the weather report, he’d not given it much thought. If anything, he’d considered finishing up his session with Grey early just so he could be home by the time the rains hit. It never freaking crossed his mind that he might be heading closer to the storm.

And of course, the storm didn’t factor into the danger they’d been obliquely talking about at the house.

“Are you going to at least explain what’s going on before we arrive at the beach? Who’s this brother? And what danger are you worried about?” Cort demanded, no longer able to stomach another second of silence.

“No,” Clay said simply.

Cort took a breath to argue but stopped when he saw Grey’s hand reach across the seat toward him. Cort grabbed his hand and Grey instantly threaded their fingers together. “As much as I hate to agree with Clay, it’s better if we don’t tell you. Safer for you.”

“I’m not really all that interested in what’s safer for me right now.”

“I know, that’s why I have to be. I need you to trust me on this one.”

Cort clenched his teeth and stared at the man. Did he trust Grey? He thought he’d learned a lot about him in the past couple of weeks, but tonight was proving that he might not know him as well as he thought. And yet…

“Yes, I trust you,” he found himself admitting. “Can you at least tell me if what we’re doing is illegal?”

“Illegal? No,” Clay said with a shake of his head.

Surprisingly, Grey grinned. “Just weird.”

Clay snorted and smiled back at Grey in the rearview mirror, but the look faded almost as quickly as it formed, as if he’d realized that his friend couldn’t see it.

“We’re on the island,” Clay announced. “Just passed a sign that said two miles to parking for Mid Beach.”

“Is it busy?” His thumb passed over Cort’s knuckles in a gentle caress, but his expression was grim. Cort had to wonder if he was even aware that they were still holding hands. The rest of his body seemed tensed, as if he were ready to jump into action or face an attack.

“Eh…not bad for a weekday afternoon. Hopefully, Wiley is right and North Beach is quieter.”

“He said we’d have to walk from the parking lot to North Beach.”

Clay grunted. “You’re only going far enough to spot this guy and then turning back with Cort to the SUV.”

Grey snorted in response. “I hope you’re not expecting an argument from me.”

“Nope, just enjoying the rare moment of agreement on your part.”

Strong fingers squeezed Cort’s hand, and he looked up to find Grey smiling faintly. Yes, Grey loved to antagonize his family. It was clearly one of his love languages, twisted as it was.

Cort glanced out the window, taking in the small white-and-pastel-colored homes and shops. The large fronds