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“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. He pushed down the swell of pleasure at feeling his hand move slowly across his skin. “Are you okay? Were you hit?”
“Fine. Hands sting a little from clocking that guy with the skillet.” Cort tried to ignore the new huskiness in his voice. Yeah, this so wasn’t a good time. Brainwashed killers were still running around, trying to end their lives.
“Oh, shit!” Calder jumped beside him and Cort jerked his head around. His heart nearly exploded in his chest to see what appeared to be a five-hundred-pound silverback gorilla poke its head into the kitchen from the butler’s pantry. His nearly black eyes looked over the three of them, his broad nostrils flared as he scented the air.
“What?”
“Gorilla,” Cort choked out.
“Oh, Baer,” Grey said with a sigh of relief.
“No, gorilla. Big gorilla.” It took an extra second for his brain to finally realize that Grey had been talking about the Weaver Baer, not bear the animal. He knew that. That thought wasn’t happening, though, because there was an enormous, man-killing gorilla staring at them, making these low hooting noises.
Without taking his eyes off them, the gorilla hooked his fingers into the collar of the unconscious attacker’s shirt and dragged him out of the kitchen as the gorilla disappeared into the dining room.
“Grey, how many are left?” Calder demanded, his voice a little shaky. Cort wasn’t sure if the man was simply exhausted or still recovering from staring down a gorilla. Yes, some part of their brains all knew it was Baer, but coming eye-to-eye with such a fierce creature without protective glass or cage bars separating them was terrifying.
“Two. No, one. Lucien got the last one outside.” There was some more gunfire in the house. A roar from Baer. Someone swore. And then silence. Terrifying, deafening silence. “Dead. They’re all dead.” Grey closed his eyes and sighed heavily, his head thumping back against the cabinet.
