Page 66 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jolie

The tracking devices arrived yesterday, which worked out perfectly, as the guys were out. I had to get creative, though. There was no way I could get to their phones, so I decided one each for their cars would work.

I had a small-ass window of time this morning while Petra cooked them food. There was no instruction manual on how to stick a tracker to a car, but I found some metal glue in the gardener’s shed and improvised. I know they will be super pissed if the lumps of glue in their mufflers are ever found, but honesty is the best policy and all that. I’m positive they know where Trace is; what I can’t figure out is why they won’t just tell me. Also, what was with the kidnapping? If that was them, what is this whole Gods bullshit? I feel like I have a hundred different puzzle pieces from different damn puzzles and no idea which pieces belong to which.

I throw the metal glue in the shrubs on my way back inside, making my way towards the kitchen.

“Do we really have to go?” Marlow whines. “You know my mother.”

“You know you have to. With recent events, Mr Z needs to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Will he announce that Trace is back?” The hairs on my arms stand on end.

“You know he has to lie low. Jolie can’t find out. I have a meeting with him and Mr Z this morning to talk about what happens going forward.”

I decide to make my presence known—looks like I have plenty of spying to do. If Brennan is going to see Mr Z and Trace, that means I’ll have his location. Internally I get giddy. Trace wouldn’t avoid contacting me unless he was being held against his will.

“Morning,” I chirp, popping into the kitchen. Reaching up into the cupboard and grabbing a mug, I turn back around to find all six sets of eyes looking up at me. “What?”

“Nothing, you just look nice this morning.”

Even if I hadn’t overheard part of their conversation, I would now know something was up. Boston giving me a compliment is just unheard of. I look down at the oversized shirt with a raised eyebrow. It’s the same one I have yet to return to Marlow; the guy is tall, so it makes for a good nightie.

Brennan coughs. “It might be a good idea to wear pants, though.” He takes my mug and starts making my coffee—a routine we have started to do every morning. I get a cup down and he swoops in and takes it, then makes it for me.

Case laughs and Laughn holds his hand out for me. I slide my hand into his and he uses it to pull me into his lap. Boston, Davis, and Marlow all watch me curiously from the opposite side of the table.

“You never have to wear pants,” Laughn whispers in my ear, making me laugh.

A throat clears from the entry and Mr Myers stands there.

“Dad,” Boston says as Brennan places my coffee down in front of me. “We were not expecting you home so early.”

“Your mother changed our flights so she can help Betty Emmerson with the gala dinner. Apparently someone else fell ill.” He takes in the way I’m sitting on Laughn’s lap, and his brows pinch, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sure my grandmother will appreciate the help. We all know my mother wouldn’t want to ruin her manicure over such a tedious task,” Marlow replies, and Mr Myers snorts but composes himself quickly as Mrs Myers joins us. She also quickly assesses me, but just smiles.

“It’s nice to see you have settled in, Jolie,andthat the boys are being nice. I was worried they would act like barbaric animals in the presence of a beautiful young woman.”

“They have been perfect gentlemen,” I lie, and Mr Myers laughs.

“I highly doubt that, but it’s good that they have taken you under their wing,” he says and excuses himself for a business call.

“It will be good for you to have friends for next year,” Mrs Myers continues.

“Next year?” Tilting my head quizzically, I look around at the guys. No one will meet my gaze.

“I thought you might want to attend university. There is a special academy the boys will be attending, and I made sure that you had an interview. It was a little presumptuous of me since I know you can legally leave once you graduate, but this could set you up for the future, and what harm is an interview?”

How can I do anything but nod along?

“What academy is this?” I ask her.

“The G.O.D.S Academy,” she states, and I hold my tongue. What is with all this Gods stuff?Rich people. “It stands for Gifted, Obedient, Dedicated Students.”

“Or deadly,” Laughn whispers in my ear, and a shiver runs down my spine.

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