Page 19 of The Grandest Game
Unlatching the clasp and fixing the gold chain around her neck, Gigi turned her attention to the knife. It was sheathed. She unsheathed it.
The knife’s blade was silver and slightly curved, its handle short. The sheath was made of battered leather and marked with a series of scratches that looked almost like claw marks.
Thirteen of them, Gigi counted. Her brain organized the details of her bounty. Eventually, therewouldbe a payoff to everythingshe’d found. That was how Hawthorne games worked. Everything mattered.The number thirteen. The knife blade. The handle. The sheath. The gold chain. The jewel. The diving equipment. Manga. Ra.
Did Gigi have even the faintest idea what any of it meant or how the Grandest Game was going to play out? No. No, she did not. But one thing was clear: This wasthefind of the game. The motherlode of all motherlodes.
This. Was.Everything.
Among her many and varied talents, Gigi was a rather innovative victory dancer—and then she heard footsteps behind her. With the knife in one hand, she zipped up the bag with the other.
“What have we here?” The voice that posed that not-really-a-question was unmistakably male and a little flat.
Gigi slung the bag over her shoulder, stood, and turned. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Gigi. I like your eyebrows.”
In her defense, they were impressive eyebrows, dark and thick and angled, a key part of an equally impressive scowl on the stranger’s face.
“Knox.” His introduction was curt. So was that scowl. Almost…
Honey-badger-esque, Gigi thought. She remembered Odette’s assessment of the man Brady had been talking to earlier:The one on the right likes to eat ponies.And then there was the other thing that Odette had said.
About the dead girl.
“I’ll be taking that.” Knox nodded toward the bag on Gigi’s shoulder. He looked a few years older than Brady, far enough into his twenties that Gigi didn’t feel quite so compelled to assess his jawline.
Besides, right now, she had bigger issues.
Gigi’s hand tightened around the strap on her shoulder. “Overmy cold, dead body,” she said cheerfully. And yes, given the context, that was probably not the most prudent or appropriate statement, but that didn’t stop Gigi from continuing, “And not just like anI’ve been dead a couple of days, so I’m not warm anymorekind of cold. I’m talkingdrawer in the morgue, I’ve been refrigerated, and steps have been taken to prevent me from resurrecting myselfcold, dead body.”
Knox was not impressed. “I don’t like your chances here, half-pint.”
“No one ever does,” Gigi replied. Her heart was beating like a bongo drum in her chest, but luckily, Gigi was an expert at ignoring both her hindbrain animal instincts and her frontal lobe common sense. “Granted, this would be easier if I had a cat. But, as you can see, I’m armed with both duct tape and a knife.” Gigi smiled hopefully. “And you don’t want to hurt me?”
Gigi hadn’t meant to make that a question per se. Deep down, she didn’t believe Avery and the Hawthornes would have let anyone truly dangerous into the Grandest Game.But they didn’t choose the wild cards, her good sense whispered. Gigi dismissed it. Besides, when Odette had mentioned the dead girl, she hadn’t said anything to suggest that it was a particularlynefariousdeath. More likely, it was tragic, and Gigi had a soft spot fortragic.
“I’m not going to hurt you, pipsqueak.” Knox’s voice was still flat. “I’m not going to lay a finger on you, because I’m smart enough to know that this isn’t that kind of game. What I will do, however, is get in your way.” Knox let that sink in. “Until you hand over that bag—and the knife and duct tape, for good measure—anywhere you try to go, there I’ll be, blocking your path.Step. By step. By step.”
Given that he hadn’t mentioned the necklace, Gigi could only assume that Knox either hadn’t noticed it or had assumed it washers and that she’d worn it to the island. Summoning up an impressive Death Glare, Gigi folded her arms over her chest. “I take back my appreciation of your eyebrows.”
“Tick-tock, little girl.” Knox stared her down. “Sunset’s coming, and you’re on the wrong side of the island. I run a five-minute mile. I’m betting you don’t, which means that I have time to waste right now…”
And Gigi didn’t.
Chapter 15
ROHAN
Nine minutes until sundown.Rohan seldom entered locations of interest through their front doors. Windows were much more his style, and of the dozens and dozens of windows on the house on the north point, there was a grand total of one that was penetrable.
Ocean side. Four stories up.
Rohan made it in with no one the wiser. He slipped through the shadows, committing the fourth-floor layout to memory.Seven doors with seven locks.
Then came the footsteps.Heavy boots, worn soles. A languid stride.The person in question made no attempt to mask his approach, but he was lighter on his feet than he should have been.
How very Hawthorne of him.
“Fancy meeting you here.” The eldest Hawthorne brother’s pronounced Texas drawl matched his boots—and the cowboy hathe was wearing. “Nash Hawthorne.” He introduced himself, then leaned back against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.
