Page 15 of The Grandest Game
“You’re reading their lips,” she realized. “What are they saying?”
“The one on the left likes ponies. The one on the right likes to eat ponies.” The old woman’s voice was dry. “Timeless tale, really.”
The one on the left was Brady. “Ponies?” Gigi repeated. “You don’t actually expect me to believe that?”
“Oh, let an old lady have her fun.” The woman lowered her opera glasses and turned to look at Gigi head-on. “I’m Odette, and you, darling young thing, are observant.”
“I’m Gigi,” Gigi said. “And I try.”
“You do, don’t you?” Odette replied. “Try. The world just loves women who try.” Odette caught Gigi’s gaze and held it. “Unless and until we try too hard.”
With that, the old woman began to make her way slowly back to the ladder. Right before she descended, she spoke again. “I’ll tell you this much, from one woman who tries too hard to another: They were talking about a girl, and, from what I gather, she’s dead.”
Chapter 12
ROHAN
Rohan examined the hint he’d uncovered. Around the base of a flagpole on the western point of the island, he’d found a thick metal chain fixed in place with a padlock made of a gleaming platinum. The lock had no keyhole, no combination pad, nothing to allow it to be opened. A sentence had been engraved into the surface of the platinum in elaborate script.
No man is an island, entire of itself.Rohan recognized the words, the start of a famous poem. So what was the clue, the hint, the advantage meant to be obtained by the player who found this? His brain sorted mercilessly through possibilities: the poet’s name,John Donne; the poem itself, focused on the idea that mankind is inherently connected to one another.
Never send to know for whom the bell tolls.Rohan allowed himself to jump to the ending of the poem.It tolls for thee.
Deep in Rohan’s mind, a warning sounded:Someone’s coming.He’d long since trained his senses to operate exactly as he neededthem to. Even when his mind was elsewhere, his ears were always listening, his body always alert. Footsteps were never just footsteps. They were tells—and Rohan was an expert at reading people.
Soft-soled shoes, aggressive stride, weight skewed toward the balls of the feet.He set the lock down and silently faded into the shadows. He already had the clue memorized, and observing another player’s reaction to it would tell him more than fighting over it possibly could.
Within seconds, the owner of the soft-soled shoes and that aggressive stride appeared.Tall and powerfully built.Her long, silvery-blond hair was pulled into two tight braids that wreathed her head on either side like a crown of laurels, joining together in a thicker braid that hung down her back like a gilded rope.
Savannah Grayson.Rohan knew the basics about her already: eighteen years old, college basketball player, a reputation as an ice queen, Grayson Hawthorne’s half sister.
Tell me, Savannah, Rohan said silently.Who are you really?
As he watched, Savannah zeroed in on the lock with remarkable speed. She read the clue. Most people would have paused to ponder, but the slightest shift of her weight tipped Rohan off to the fact that she wasn’tmost people.
He saw her next move right before she made it.
She slid her arm under the chain, looping it over her shoulder, and began to climb. There was no flag at the top of the pole. Nothing for Savannah Grayson to find there.You’re not looking for anything, are you, love?She was getting the lock—and the chain—off the pole.
The fifty-foot-tall pole.
Savannah climbed the way she walked—with purpose.With fury, Rohan thought. Her arms were strong, her enduranceimpressive. Drawn by that purpose, that fury, that endurance, Rohan stepped out of the shadows. The pole was solid enough and large enough to support his weight as well as hers.
Rohan could think of worse ways to make a person’s acquaintance.
Savannah was halfway to the top when she realized she had company. Her gaze didn’t linger on his. She climbed harder, faster, but Rohan had four inches, half an arm’s length, and a lifetime at the Devil’s Mercy on her.
Soon enough, his hands grabbed the pole just above her ankles, the backs of his fingers brushing the front of her leg. A second later, the two of them were neck and neck. Something in Rohan wanted to push past her to see how hard she would push back, but in Rohan’s world, strategy was never subject towant. He paced her, hand for hand and foot for foot, never taking the advantage and never giving it up.
As they neared the apex, Savannah Grayson’s eyes met his.
“Nice day for a climb,” Rohan said.
Savannah raked her gaze over him, from head to toe, and arched a brow. “I’ve seen nicer.”
Oh, he liked her. Rohan had a certain appreciation for being put in his place. And for the set of her lips as she did it.
“Need any help with that?” Rohan nodded toward the chain looped around Savannah’s shoulder.I’ve already seen the clue, but you don’t know that. Let’s see how far you’ll go to protect what you perceive as yours.
