The Inheritances Game (Jameson Hawthorne)

Chutes and Ladders

This was what I discovered about Eve during the remainder of Chutes and Ladders: She was competitive, she wasn't afraid of heights, she had a high tolerance for pain, and she definitely recognized the effect she had on Grayson. She fit here, at Hawthorne House. That was the thought at the top of my mind as my finger latched on to the edge of the roof.

A hand reached down and closed around my wrist. "You're not first," Jameson told me in a tone that clearly communicated that he knew how I felt about that. "But you're not last." That honor would eventually go to Xander and Max, who had spent far too long pillow fighting each other.

I looked past Jameson to the part of the roof that flattened out. To Grayson and Eve. "On a scale from boring to brooding," Jameson quipped, "how's he holding up?" Heaven forbid Jameson Hawthorne get caught openly caring about his brother.

"Honestly?" I bit my lip, catching it between my teeth for a moment too long, then pitched my voice low. "I'm worried. Grayson isn't okay, Jameson. I don't think he's been okay for a very long time."

Jameson moved toward the edge of the roof—the very edge—and looked out at the sprawling estate. "Hawthornes aren't, as a general rule, allowed to be anything else." He was hurting, too, and when Jameson Hawthorne hurt, he took risks.

"Jae, you are allowed to hurt, Gray's allowed to hurt. You guys both watched someone you care about die, and now a look alike of her is here."

Avery's Pov

Max hauled herself up onto the roof after me and collapsed. "Faaaaaaax." She drew out the word. "I am never doing that again."

Xander pulled himself up behind her. "How about tomorrow? Same time?" Our appearance pulled Grayson and Eve toward us along with Catalina and Jameson.

"So?" Eve said, her expression flecked with vulnerability, her voice tough. "Did I pass your little test?"

In response, I withdrew my drawing of the disk from my pocket and handed it to Eve. "The last time I saw Toby," I said slowly, "he took this disk from me. We don't know what it is, but we know it's worth a fortune."

Eve stared at the drawing, then her eyes found mine. "How do you know that?"

"He left it for my mother. There was a letter." That was as much as I could bring myself to tell her. "Did he ever say anything to you about any of this? Do you have any idea where he was keeping the disk?"

"No." Eve shook her head. "But if someone did take Toby to get this..." Her breath hitched. "What are they going to do to him if he won't give it to them?" And, I thought, feeling sick, what will they do to him once they have it?

That night I dreamed about my mom, about Toby, about fire and gold. I woke to the sound of shouting.

"I'm going to throttle him!" There was a grand total of one person who could get a rise out of my sister. I slipped out of bed and padded out of my room to the hall.

"Another cowboy hat?" I guessed. For the past two months, Nash had been buying cowboy hats for Libby. A veritable rainbow of colors and styles. He liked to leave them where my sister would find them.

"Look at this!" Libby demanded. She held up a cowboy hat. It was black with a bejeweled skull and crossbones in the center and metal spikes down the side.

"It's very you," I told her.

"It's perfect!" Libby said, outraged.

"Face it, Lib," I told her. "You're a couple."

"We're not a couple," Libby insisted. "This isn't my life, Ave. It's yours." She looked down, her hair, dyed black with rainbow tips, falling into her face. "And experience has taught me that I am utterly deficient when it comes to love. So." Libby thrust the cowboy hat at me. "I am not into Nash Hawthorne. We are not a couple. We are not dating. And he is definitely not in love with me."

"Avery." Oren announced his presence. I turned to face him, and my pulse jumped.

"What is it?" I asked. "Toby?"

"This arrived by courier in the dead of night." Oren held out an envelope with my name written across the front inelegant script. "I screened it—no trace of poison, explosives, or recording devices."

"Is it a ransom demand?" I asked. If it was a ransom demand, I could call Alisa, have her pay it. Not waiting for a reply, I took the envelope from Oren. It was too heavy to just be a letter. My senses heightened, the world around me falling into slow motion, I opened it. Inside, I found a single sheet of paper—and a familiar golden disk. What the hell? I looked up. The person who kidnapped Toby wasn't after the disk. I stared at it, my mind racing.

"Why would Toby's abductor send that to you?" Libby asked.

"Proof that they have him. And the fact that they sent it," I said, steeling myself, "means that either the person who took Toby doesn't know what the disk is worth..."

"Or they don't care." Libby laid a hand on my shoulder. Toby's okay. He has to be. He has to. The disk burning my palm like a brand, I closed my fist around it and made myself read the accompanying message. The paper was linen, expensive. Letters had been scripted onto it in a deep blood red.

A

RE

ANCE

A R

"That's it?" Libby said. "There was nothing else?"

I checked the envelope again. "Nothing." I brought my fingertip to the writing—and the red ink. My stomach twisted. "That is ink, isn't it?" Blood red.

"I don't know," Libby replied looking uncomfortable, "I do know you need sleep, puzzles can wait until the morning." I was too tired and confused to argue with her, so I cuddled up in bed with her and fell asleep.