Free A Grimm Legacy (Grimm Tales) by Janna Jennings

that when he walked in?
    Andi followed his gaze down and met his eyes with a slightly amused, exasperated expression. 
    “Out,” she said, shoving on his shoulder. “I’ll go talk to Quinn and meet you in the hall.”
    The girls joined them silently a few minutes later, both wearing strange combinations of clothes—Quinn in a shirt with sleeves half attached at the shoulder and a skirt that looked like it was made out of handkerchiefs, and Andi in longish filmy dress with a leather vest laced tight over the top. Both girls wore heeled boots that laced up to their knees. Andi had a small messenger bag on her hip. 
    Dylan and Fredrick’s closets had been the same mix of eclectic clothing. He hadn’t minded--the funky clothes were kind of fun--but Fredrick had taken personal offense to the lack of blue jeans.
    Just getting out of the mansion proved to be a challenge. Dylan wound through so many rooms and corridors he felt like a rat searching for cheese. The entire building was deceptively quiet—no servants, no guards. Maybe they weren’t really prisoners, but Dylan wasn’t about to stick around to find out.
    Behind what felt like the millionth door he tried, the four of them stepped into what was kept under the glass dome of the covered carriage house.
    The gravel driveway looped in from the front of the house and ran the length of the airplane sized room. Along the perimeter, tucked into the shadows, was every type of vehicle from every conceivable era. There were '68 mustangs cozied up to Model T's. The Lexus convertible that Dylan was positive was released just last year sat adjacent to an Indian Four motorcycle from the 1940's. The entire collection was meticulous, the shined chrome and carefully cared-for leather making it look more like a museum than garage.
    Wandering though the dark garage, Dylan was examining the assortment of vehicles when Quinn called everyone over, "Guys, come see this." 
    Jogging over, Dylan found her standing in front of spoked wheels and a lofted driver's seat that belonged in history and fairy tales. He circled the covered carriage, taking in the curved lines and gas lamps of a time supposedly long gone.
    "Why would he have something like this?" Andi asked.
    "I don’t know. I’m pretty sure these ran on literal horse power," Dylan said, looking under the carriage.
    "What about this one?” Fredrick called from a corner of the room. Tucked into the shadows, the long, low dark form of an old muscle car gave a distinctive silhouette. With its black fins, bubble top and white wall tires, it belonged in a car show.
    Dylan circled the car with a grin. "A 1961 Chevy Impala." He ran a hand over a fin. “Now we’re talking.”
    Fredrick peered into the red and white striped leather interior. "My dad has one like this but it's not in great shape."
    “Yeah? Is he a car guy?” Dylan asked.
    “No. I think he hangs on to it because it was my grandpa's,” Fredrick said, straightening up.
    “Everyone in,” Dylan said, opening the door and folding back the seat.
    “Wait, we’re stealing a car?” Quinn asked, backing up a step.
    “No,” Dylan said impatiently, waving her and Andi into the backseat. “We’re borrowing one of hundreds of cars from a rich, crazy person who is trying to hold us hostage. He’ll just have to relocate it on his own once we dump it.”
    “Works for me,” Andi said, ignoring the backseat and getting into the passengers side. “Hey,” she stopped half way in, “who’s driving?”
    “I’m driving,” Dylan said, trying to close her door. Andi blocked it with her arm.
    “Why do you g et to drive?” she grilled him.
    “You can drive if you know how to hot wire a car,” he said with a shrug.
    “And you do?”
    “Watch and learn,” he grinned, finally succeeding in getting the other two passengers in the backseat.
    He stuck his head under the dash and had the ignition wires pulled out in seconds.  These old cars were a piece of cake.
    “Where’d