Page 16 of Glorious Rivals
Honestly, Gigi wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“Furthermore…” Sherlock Gigi was on the case.“My well-honed instincts are telling me that Rohan’s shoulders are far too broad for him to be anyone’s lackey—like I’m talking almostsupernaturallybroad in proportion to his waist.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bad judge of character?”
“All the time!”Gigi smiled through the sting of Slate’s assessment.Even just saying Brady’s name had reminded her of how badly she’d misread that situation.Gigi had trusted Brady Daniels—and she shouldn’t have.
“Is it Lyra?”Gigi asked.“Because I really hope for Grayson’s sake that Eve’s player in the game isn’t Lyra.”
More silence.
Time for another subject change to keep him off guard.“The marks on the sheath of your knife—what do they mean?”Gigiknew from having counted them during the game that there were thirteen total.
“Maybe they’re people I’ve kidnapped.Or horrible things I’ve done.”
That second option had the ring of truth—not that Gigi could claim to be particularly good at realizing when someone was lying to her.“Let’s play a game.It’s called Yes, No, or Maybe.”
Slate took an audible step toward her.“Okay, sunshine.Let’s play.”His hair wasn’t in his face anymore, but with so little light, Gigi still couldn’t make out the scar through his eyebrow.
Time to make this question count.“Is there someone else on Hawthorne Island?”
“Definesomeone else.”
“Not the players.Not the game makers.Not you.Not Eve.”
“Maybe.”Slate was staring directly at her now.
“Last night,” Gigi said, “when the power went out—was that you and/or Eve?”
Slate looked down at the knife in his hand.“No.”
Finally, she’d gotten some real intel out of him, an actual piece of the puzzle.When he’d suggested that there was another threat out there, hehadmeant on Hawthorne Island, interfering with the game.Another sponsor?
Gigi’s sixth sense for broody boys told her that that she’d gotten about all she was going to get out of Slate—for now.
Her gaze drifted of its own volition back down to the knife in his hand—definitely sheathed—and she had to ask: “How many horrible things have you done?”
“Counting this?”Slate slipped his knife from the sheath.“Counting you?”He used the edge of the blade to add a notch to the leather.“Fourteen.”
Chapter 13
LYRA
Lyra’s hand closed around a golden dart.Five darts.Five players.For an elongated moment, all of them stood there, each holding a dart and taking measure of the others.
The game was on.
Lyra looked down to the words carved into the table.EVERY STORY HAS ITS BEGINNNING…The game makers had said that phrase before.It was even engraved on the players’ room keys.That has to mean something.
Across the table, Brady lifted his dart up even with his eyes.To Lyra’s right, Savannah started disassembling hers.Rohan took a sip from his champagne glass, then pointed the tip of his dart at Grayson.
“You have the look of a man who knows something,” Rohan declared.
“I don’t know anything.”Grayson rotated his own dart in his fingertips, studying every golden inch of it.“Yet.”
Lyra kept her eyes on the competition as her fingers began to explore her own dart.Etched lines encircled its shaft, each forming a complete ring.At intervals, other marks slashed across the rings, diagonal lines, scattered on all sides of the shaft.
Brady suddenly closed his fist around his dart and walked out of the room.
