Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Clay’s expressions softened. “My heart screams no, but my head argues that it would be for the best. There’s a good chance the pestilents are going to be looking for us. If we get into a fight, I’d like you there to heal us.”
“If you’re expecting a fight, why not take the rest of us?” Lucien countered.
“Because I don’t like the idea of leaving our home completely unprotected. The pestilents have sent numerous attacks against our home in the past. We need as many people as we can to remain behind to keep it safe. Cort will also be here, and I want Grey to have some backup in keeping his mate safe.”
Cort winced. “Sorry, guys.”
Grey immediately wrapped his arms around his mate, pressing his face into the side of Cort’s head. “Don’t you dare apologize. We will always keep you safe.”
“Seriously, man. Nothing to apologize for. We’re proud to guard you,” Lucien added, getting a half smile from Cort. He meant every word of it. Their soul mates were a treasure beyond compare. Part of him envied Baer, Grey, and Clay. He might never have thought of himself to settle down with just one person—well, with the exception of Brad—but he knew he’d give anything to have the kind of complete love and acceptance his brothers had found.
“So, we hop a plane for St. Louis. That’s probably only a couple of hours at most. If we get tickets today—” Wiley started, but he stopped at a shake of Clay’s head.
“Sorry, babe,” Baer drawled with a low rumble of amusement in his voice. He pressed a kiss to Wiley’s temple. “We’re going to be driving. Only way we can take all the weapons along as well as any supplies you might need.”
“Oh,” he said, deflating in his chair. “How long of a drive is it?”
“According to Google,” Dane answered with his eyes on his phone, “about twelve hours, not including stops.”
“Shit,” Wiley swore, tossing his arms up in the air like Dane had given him the worst news possible. “We’re gonna have to stop for snacks. I can’t be in the car that long without snacks.”
Baer chuckled this time. “Don’t worry. We’ll load up on snacks.”
“I would count on us being out of town for two full days,” Clay announced.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” Dane turned his attention to Grey, Lucien, and Calder. “I’ve got a guy coming tomorrow to look at the furniture we’ve got stored up in the attic. He does antique restoration. He’s supposed to look everything over so he can give me an estimate.”
Lucien waved a dismissive hand at him. “We’ve got it under control. We’ll let the restoration guy in.”
“Be nice,” Dane demanded in a stern voice, moving one pointing finger between the three of them. “Do not fuck this up. He’s rated the best in the area. And don’t do anything weird.”
“Why would we do anything weird?” Calder laughed.
“Giraffe in the backyard,” Cort said blandly, mentioning just one of the many weird things that had happened before he’d discovered the truth about the Weavers.
“Ostrich in the family room,” Dane added in the same deadpan voice.
“Yes, but you’re taking the troublemaker with you,” Lucien announced, pointing at Baer.
“Hey!” Baer cried out.
“What could possibly go wrong with the four of us here?” Lucien continued, praying those didn’t prove to be his famous last words.
Chapter Seven
Gio pulled his shiny silver pickup to a stop in front of the large antebellum house, his mouth falling open at how gorgeous the place was. White pillars ran two stories while windows glinted in the afternoon sun. A variety of lush green trees framed the house, creating a postcard-perfect image.
But the real treasure lay in the attic full of furniture he was dying to get his hands on.
He turned off the engine of his brand-new F250 and sat admiring the house. If he was expecting to haul furniture, he would bring the company truck or van. This was just an inspection with the potential for one small piece being taken with him. His personal vehicle was fine for this.
He tugged on the sleeves of his crisp, white button-down and grabbed his tablet from the passenger seat. With one last glance in the rearview mirror, he checked his unruly black curls, hoping they behaved for this meeting. Dane Briggs had made a name for himself in Savannah for his restoration work of this old beauty. There wasn’t a contractor in town who didn’t know about the enormous amount of money being dropped on this project.
And Gio did not mind getting in on the action. Dane had sent him over a bare-bones list of what was in the attic along with a handful of pictures that had left Gio salivating. Historical restoration was his passion, and his particular focus was on the Revolutionary War era and pre-Civil War era furniture. But he wasn’t a snob. He wouldn’t turn his nose up at a Marie Antoinette chaise or a Louis XV chair.