Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle #3) - Jocelynn Drake Page 0,61
a plan for improving their defenses.
But he was very interested in exploring this new development with Grey. To hell with him being a client. To hell with everything. He’d just stopped a gunman with a frying pan and locked eyes with a giant gorilla that was really a man. He’d earned a hell of a lot more than a few stolen kisses with the sexy man.
Chapter 14
Grey stood in the kitchen, dripping olive oil. Shuffling footsteps and crunching glass came to his ears as the others moved around. A cold breeze blew in from what had to be shot-out windows. Cort still stood beside him, the man’s harsh breaths in Grey’s ear, the smell of his sweat making his nose itch.
“Shit,” Clay swore as he walked into the kitchen. “They did a hell of a number on this place.”
“And right after Dane had gotten it so nice,” Wiley added mournfully as he joined them. “How many were there?”
“Five,” Grey answered. “I picked up on five.”
“They’re all dead?” The sadness in Wiley’s voice pulled at Grey’s heart.
“It couldn’t be helped, babe,” Baer replied. His voice came from the same direction as Wiley’s. “They were trying to kill us.”
“It’s just so sad,” Wiley said softly. “We’ve got to stop whoever’s sending them.”
“It would help if we knew who,” Clay grumbled. “It has to be another witch or wizard.”
“Think it’s the man Cort saw on the beach?” Grey asked.
“There’s no way to know. But we’re sitting ducks here. They sent one; then they sent five, and these men were professional killers who knew exactly how to infiltrate the house. If we didn’t have magic, we’d be dead.” Their leader’s voice was low and frustrated. Grey’s heart went out to the man. Not one of them had been trained for this kind of shit, and it was all falling on Clay’s shoulders to lead them safely through it.
“You’re bleeding!” Wiley suddenly cried out.
Grey’s stomach knotted. “Who’s bleeding?”
“Clay is. Holy shit, Clay, you got shot!”
“Let me see,” Dane demanded. Grey hadn’t even realized he was in the room. He inwardly cursed his lack of sight, feeling all sorts of flustered. A chair scraped the floor, and quick footsteps shuffled through the debris.
“It’s not that bad. Flesh wound. Nothing you can’t heal,” Clay assured Dane.
Cort was too silent. He didn’t need his powers to guess that the man was barely holding together his fear and/or rage. When Cort roughly grabbed his arm, he went with angry.
“I’d better go back to my place and shower this oil off before Lucien lets loose a stray flame and burns me up.”
“Lucien’s at the front of the house, checking the damage,” Cort said, tightening his fingers. “But a shower is just what you need. I’ll go with you. There’s a ton of debris on the floor and outside.”
Grey and Cort navigated the destroyed breakfast room and went through one of the broken French doors. Grey headed toward his apartment, Cort helping him steer around the destruction outside. He could fairly feel the man vibrating with anger, his fury like a separate presence between them. Grey wasn’t sure what had happened between his cool head after the disaster and now, but he knew he was going to get an earful, and Cort didn’t let him down once they stood in his living room.
“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Cort yelled.
“What? You were all cool in there. What changed?”
“It hit me once I got a good look at the place. Those fuckers tore it up. You could have been killed!”
“But I wasn’t.” Grey felt for Cort’s arms and held them in tight fingers. “We’re both fine.”
“We’re not fucking fine! Those guys were trying to kill us and the whole time, you were trying to get me out of the way.”
“I wanted to protect you!”
“Maybe I want to protect you too. And I can’t believe what they did to that beautiful house. Do you have any idea how special this place is? It’s a safe haven for two gay couples in the south. There’s a Black man with superpowers, for Christ’s sake! It’s like a dream come true for me, and those fuckers shot it all to hell. They shot Clay!”
“Clay’s fine. We deal with those sorts of injuries all the time, and Dane can heal him.”
Cort’s shoes scraped the carpet as he began to pace. It seemed to be his go-to when he was upset, prowling about the small living room. “This is crazy!”