The Inheritance Games (The Inheritance Games #1)(91)

“I turn her in to the police.”

Grayson took half a step toward me. “Think of a number.”

The odds were in my favor here. He only had a 10 percent chance of guessing correctly. I had a 90 percent chance that he would get it wrong. I took my time choosing. There were certain numbers that people defaulted to. Seven, for instance. I could go for an extreme—one or ten, but those seemed like easy guesses, too. Eight was on my brain, from the days we’d spent solving the numerical sequence. Four was the number of Hawthorne brothers.

If I wanted to keep him from guessing, I needed to go for something unexpected. No rhyme, no reason.

Two.

“Do you want me to write the number down?” I asked.

“On what?” Grayson asked softly.

I swallowed. “How do you know that I won’t lie about my number if you get it right?”

Grayson was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke. “I trust you.”

I knew, with every fiber of my being, that Grayson Hawthorne didn’t trust easily—or much. I swallowed. “Go ahead.”

He took at least as much time generating his guess as I had choosing my number. He looked at me, and I could feel him trying to unravel my thoughts and impulses, to solve me, like one more riddle.

What do you see when you look at me, Grayson Hawthorne?

He made his guess. “Two.”

I turned my head toward my shoulder, breaking eye contact. I could have lied. I could have told him that he was wrong. But I didn’t. “Good guess.”

Grayson let out a ragged breath, and then I felt him gently turning my face back toward his. “Avery.” He almost never used my given name. He gently traced the line of my jaw. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You have my word.”

He thought he could protect me. He wanted to. He was touching me, and all I wanted was to let him. Let him protect me. Let him touch me. Let him—

Footsteps. The clattering above pushed me into taking a step back from him, and a few moments later, Xander and Nash climbed down into the room.

I managed to look at them—not Grayson “Where’s Jameson?” I asked.

Xander cleared his throat. “I can report that some very colorful language was used when I requested his presence.”

Nash snorted. “He’ll be here.”

We waited—five minutes, then ten.

“You might as well unlock yours,” Xander told the others. “Your hands, if you please.”

Grayson went first, then Nash. After the touch pads scanned their hands, we heard the telltale sound of deadbolts being thrown, one after the other.

“Three locks down,” Xander murmured. “One to go.”

Another five minutes. Eight. He’s not coming, I thought.

“Jameson isn’t coming,” Grayson said, like he’d lifted the thought from my mind as easily as he’d guessed my number.

“He’ll be here,” Nash repeated.

“Don’t I always do what I’m told?”

We looked up—and Jameson jumped. He landed between his brothers and me, going almost to the ground to absorb the shock. He straightened, then met their eyes, one at a time. Nash. Xander. Grayson.

Then, me. “You don’t know when to stop, do you, Heiress?” That didn’t exactly feel like an indictment.

“I’m tougher than I look,” I told him. He stared at me for a moment longer, then turned to the door. He placed his hand flat on the pad that bore his initials. The last deadbolt was thrown, and the door was released. It creaked open—an inch, maybe two. I expected Jameson to reach for the door, but instead, he walked back to the opening and jumped, catching its sides with his hands.

“Where are you going?” I asked him. After everything it had taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away.

“To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.”

No. He couldn’t just leave. He was the one who had dragged me into this, and he was going to see it through. I jumped to catch onto the opening overhead, to go after him. I felt my grip slipping. Strong hands grabbed me from beneath—Grayson. He pushed me upward, and I managed to climb out and to my feet.

“Don’t leave,” I told Jameson.

He was already walking away. When he heard my voice, he stopped but didn’t turn back.

“I don’t know what’s on the other side of that door, Heiress, but I do know that the old man laid this trap for me.”

“Just for you?” I said, an edge working its way into my voice. “That’s why it required all four brothers’ hands and my face to get this far?” Clearly, Tobias Hawthorne had meant for all of us to be here.

“He knew that any game he left, I would play. Nash might say screw it, Grayson might get bogged down in legalities, Xander might be thinking about a thousand and one other things—but I would play.” I could see him breathing—see him hurting. “So, yes, he meant this for me. Whatever is on the other side of that door…” Jameson drew in another ragged breath. “He knew. He knew what I did, and he wanted to make sure I never forgot.”

“What did he know?” I asked.

Grayson appeared beside me and repeated my question. “The old man knew what, Jamie?”

Behind me, I could hear Nash and Xander climbing into the tunnel, but my mind barely registered their presence. I was focused—wholly, intensely—on Jameson and Grayson.