The Inheritance Games (The Inheritance Games #1)(17)

Sommelier. Stylist. Chef. Masseuse. My brain worked backward through that list. It was dizzying.

“The gym facilities are down this hall,” Alisa said, returning to her tour guide role. “There are full-sized basketball and racquetball courts, a rock climbing wall, bowling alley—”

“A bowling alley?” I repeated.

“Only four lanes,” Alisa assured me, as if it was perfectly reasonable to have a small bowling alley in one’s house.

I was still trying to formulate an appropriate response when the front door opened behind me. The day before, Nash Hawthorne had given the impression of someone who was out of here—yet there he was.

“Motorcycle cowboy,” Libby whispered in my ear.

Beside me, Alisa stiffened. “If everything’s in order here, I should check in with the firm.” She reached into her suit pocket and handed me a new phone. “I programmed in my number, Mr. Laughlin’s, and Oren’s. If you need anything, call.”

She left without saying a single word to Nash, and he watched her go.

“You be careful with that one,” Mrs. Laughlin advised the eldest Hawthorne brother, once the door had closed. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

That cemented something for me. Alisa and Nash. My lawyer had advised me against losing my heart to a Hawthorne, and when she’d asked me if I’d ever had my life ruined by one of them, and I’d said no, her response had been lucky you.

“Don’t go convincing yourself Lee-Lee is consortin’ with the enemy,” Nash told Mrs. Laughlin. “Avery isn’t anyone’s enemy. There are no enemies here. This is what he wanted.”

He. Tobias Hawthorne. Even dead, he was larger than life.

“None of this is Avery’s fault,” Libby said beside me. “She’s just a kid.”

Nash swung his attention to my sister, and I could feel her trying to fade into oblivion. Nash peered through her hair to the black eye underneath. “What happened here?” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” Libby said, sticking her chin out.

“I can see that,” Nash replied softly. “But if you decide you’d like to give me a name? I’d take it.”

I could see the effect those words had on Libby. She wasn’t used to having anyone but me in her corner.

“Libby.” Oren got her attention. “If you’ve got a moment, I’d like to introduce you to Hector, who will be running point on your detail. Avery, I can personally guarantee that Nash will not ax-murder you or allow you to be ax-murdered by anyone else while I’m gone.”

That got a snort from Nash, and I glared at Oren. He didn’t have to advertise how little I trusted them! As Libby followed Oren into the bowels of the house, I became keenly aware of the way that the oldest Hawthorne brother watched her go.

“Leave her alone,” I told Nash.

“You’re protective,” Nash commented, “and you seem like you’d fight dirty, and if there’s one thing I respect, it’s those particular traits in combination.”

There was a crash, then a thud in the distance.

“That,” Nash said meditatively, “would be the reason I came back and am not living a pleasantly nomadic existence as we speak.”

Another thud.

Nash rolled his eyes. “This should be fun.” He began striding toward a nearby hall. He looked back over his shoulder. “You might as well tag along, kid. You know what they say about baptisms and fire.”





CHAPTER 16


Nash had long legs, so a lazy amble on his part required me to jog to keep up. I looked in each room as we passed, but they were all a blur of art and architecture and natural light. At the end of a long hall, Nash threw open a door. I prepared myself to see evidence of a brawl. Instead, I saw Grayson and Jameson standing on opposite sides of a library that took my breath away.

The room was circular. Shelves stretched up fifteen or twenty feet overhead, and every single one was lined completely with hardcover books. The shelves were made of a deep, rich wood. Spread across the room, four wrought-iron staircases spiraled toward the upper shelves, like the points on a compass. In the library’s center, there was a massive tree stump, easily ten feet across. Even from a distance, I could see the rings marking the tree’s age.

It took me a moment to realize that it was meant to be used as a desk.

I could stay here forever, I thought. I could stay in this room forever and never leave.

“So,” Nash said beside me, casually eyeing his brothers. “Whose ass do I need to kick first?”

Grayson looked up from the book he was holding. “Must we always resort to fisticuffs?”

“Looks like I have a volunteer for the first ass-kicking,” Nash said, then shot a measuring look at Jameson, who was leaning against one of the wrought-iron staircases. “Do I have a second?”

Jameson smirked. “Couldn’t stay away, could you, big brother?”

“And leave Avery here with you knuckleheads?” Until Nash mentioned my name, neither of the other two seemed to have registered my presence behind him, but I felt my invisibility slip away, just like that.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Ms. Grambs,” Grayson said, silver eyes sharp. “She’s clearly capable of taking care of herself.”