Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle #3) - Jocelynn Drake Page 0,59

these men weren’t going to stop until they were all dead. Until Grey was dead.

Just that thought had some of Cort’s sympathy drying up.

“Grey?” Clay’s voice bellowed through the house.

“There are five!” Grey shouted. “Two in the house. Three out back.”

“Got it!”

Cort looked around. They couldn’t stay where they were. It was too dangerous. Their cover was shit. The two men in the rear were approaching the house, and there was no telling if Clay and Dane could keep the other attackers from cutting through the dining room straight into the kitchen. They were sitting ducks.

An enraged roar followed by some snorts echoed from the foyers. Goose bumps broke out across his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. A loud bang shook the house.

“What the hell—”

“Baer finally thought of an animal besides a cat,” Grey muttered.

“What?” Cort said, trying to fight the new swell of panic. It was hard to remember that it wasn’t really a wild animal loose in the house. It was Baer—a sweet man with a great laugh.

“Gorilla. That was definitely a gorilla,” Calder replied, his voice coming out slightly strained.

“We need to get you to safety,” Grey snarled.

“What? Me?” Cort cried out in shock.

Grey was tightening his hands on Cort’s arm and pushing him toward the back of the kitchen. “Opposite of the island. The stairs. Get up to the second floor. Take cover with Wiley. Lucien should be up there as well, protecting him.”

“No! I’m not leaving you alone!” Cort was sure his heart was going to jump out of his throat at just the thought of Grey being left here.

“I’m not. Calder is here.”

“And Calder is busy using his powers right now,” he snapped.

“We don’t have time to argue. Someone is heading toward the dining room. They need me to tell them where the attackers are,” Grey argued. “You need to be safe so I can concentrate.”

“You need someone to watch your back!”

“Guys! You’re a bit distracting, and I’m still learning this magic stuff,” Calder broke in. His voice was its usual calm and collected, but there was a quaver of tension through it. Cort bit his tongue when he really wanted to shout at Grey some more. However, he clearly remembered Calder wearing out fast when he’d shown off his new powers the other night and then at the practice field the previous day. The man needed all his attention on the attacker he was managing to keep busy.

There was a loud whoosh outside, and the room was suddenly hotter. Cort didn’t need to look to know that Lucien had joined the party. A man screamed frantically, followed by the sounds of furniture being knocked over.

“That’s what you get for attacking a man’s house!” Lucien shouted.

“That’s three down. Two—Cort, the door!”

Cort didn’t stop to think. He grabbed the handle of the cast-iron skillet sitting on the top of the stove with both hands. He pushed to his feet and swung with everything he had. A man in black tactical gear and a black mask covering all but his eyes was coming through the door. The skillet crashed into the man’s head and face with a metal ping. Their would-be attacker crumpled, but not before his finger reflexively squeezed the trigger on his gun.

Bullets whizzed by Cort, crashing into the wall and breaking more glass. For a couple of seconds, Cort could only hold perfectly still, muscles clenched as he waited for those bullets to rip painfully through flesh. But it was Grey’s shout that finally broke his paralysis.

“Fuck!” Grey shouted.

Cort twisted around toward Grey to find him covered in olive oil and large chunks of glass. One of the bullets must have caught the bottle of olive oil on the counter, causing it to explode all over Grey. The blind man started to wipe it off his face, but Cort quickly kneeled and dropped the skillet. He grabbed both of Grey’s hands in his.

“Stop. There’s glass,” Cort cried out, and Grey froze.

“What is it?”

“Olive oil.” Cort grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and jerked it off. He carefully plucked away a few pieces of glass sparkling on Grey before he swiped the soft material across his eyes and the rest of his face. On the second swipe, Grey covered his hand over Cort’s, holding the shirt to his face and inhaling deeply.

Grey exhaled and smiled. “Smells like you.”

“It’s my shirt. Quickest way to get you clean.”

Lowering the shirt, Grey reached over, his hand landing on Cort’s ribs.