Series: The Weavers Circle Series by Jocelynn Drake
Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Clay followed the signs to a parking lot that was only half-full. The coming storm was likely keeping most people in town. In the distance, Cort could see a handful of surfers taking advantage of the increased swells, thanks to the storm. They were ignoring the red flags flapping madly on the lifeguard stand, warning of rough conditions.
Throwing the SUV into park, Clay turned off the engine and twisted in his seat to look at Grey. “Any chance you feel anything?”
Grey barked a quick laugh. “God, I love your optimism.”
Clay huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s never easy. Come on. It’s been ages since I last got my toes in the sand.”
They climbed out of the car and Cort hurried around to stand next to Grey. He didn’t take his arm, but he hovered close. His eyes skimmed over the people he could see walking to their cars with little kids or just relaxing on the beach. There were no signs of danger or possible threats to any of them. What was he even looking for?
“What does danger look like? Men in ski masks and machine guns?” Cort snapped as Clay joined them.
“No,” Clay growled.
“Don’t worry. You’ll know it when you see it,” Grey murmured, smiling weakly in his direction. “I’m hoping you won’t see it. I’m hoping we’re in the car before things go sideways.”
A few spots down, Lucien pulled his sleek Porsche two-seater into an open spot and smoothly unfolded his long body from the car. He’d changed into a pair of worn jeans and a comfortable plain T-shirt. They almost made Cort think these were his mess-around clothes—garments he didn’t mind being destroyed.
“Lucien’s here,” Cort announced in a low voice for Grey’s benefit.
Grey snorted. “Sports car,” he muttered under his breath, and Cort snickered. He couldn’t believe he’d confided that in Grey. It was clearly going to haunt him for the rest of his days. But if it brought a smile to Grey’s lips, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Clay carefully picked up Grey’s hand and placed it on his biceps. “Ready?”
“I’m good. Let’s go.”
Looking over his shoulder at Cort, Clay frowned. “You watch our back. Tell me if it looks like anyone is following us.” He turned his attention over to Lucien. “Start out ahead of us. Stay high on the beach. We’ll stay closer to the shoreline. The wet sand should be easier for Grey to navigate. Watch for my signal.”
Lucien grunted and nodded once before darting off at a steady loping jog that had him disappearing from sight around a dune in a matter of seconds. The man was damn fast.
Cort nodded and bit his tongue. He was going to keep an eye on their backs and on Clay. But as Clay carefully led Grey onto the beach, taking measured steps as Grey slowly picked his way through the shifting sands, Cort had to admit that Clay was actually taking damn good care of his friend. Clay was clearly taking a risk by bringing Grey to this meeting, but he was also doing what he could to keep Grey safe. He could respect that.
“You seem pretty confident that things are going to go sideways while we’re here,” Cort said after a few minutes. He glanced out over the ocean toward the north where the sky was still a pristine blue that was steadily darkening as the sun headed toward the west. Gulls cried as they glided overhead, carried on the wind.
“Feels nice out,” Grey murmured. “I’ll have to come back when hell isn’t scheduled to break loose.”
He turned his face toward the wind, and Cort smiled to watch it ruffle his dark hair. Such a handsome man. So brave. While Cort didn’t know the danger they faced, Grey was well acquainted with it. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was the reason for the loss of his sight, and still he was here, seeming at complete ease.
Clay slowed them to a stop. The waves washed in, spreading across the wet sand to stop barely a foot away from their shoes. “There are about a dozen people ahead of us. All spread out. You want to try to spot him?”
“Yeah,” Grey whispered. His hand tightened on Clay’s arm so that his fingers dug into the muscles. “You jacked in?”
Clay snorted and then shivered. “Eww…yeah. I am.”
“What ewww?” the blind man asked.
“It…it feels different here by the shore. Slithery. Wet.”
It sounded like Grey choked on a laugh. “I’m gonna have to check that at home. I’m not sure slithery is a word.”
“Whatever. Do your job so this mental octopus will stop sliding around my soul.”
Cort had no idea what the hell they were talking about. It was the weirdest conversation he’d ever heard, but he didn’t want to say anything to remind them that he was even there. He stood watching them for a second and was about to glance around them to make sure no one was approaching when a sharp gasp left Grey’s throat and he stiffened.