The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2)(25)

“Heiress?” Jameson leaned back and assessed me. “What is it?”

It was obvious to me that he hadn’t looked up anything about Colin’s Way beyond the charity’s namesake. Obvious that he hadn’t seen the video I’d seen. Without a word, I pulled it up for him on my phone. I handed it over. As Jameson watched, I finally found my voice.

“His eyes,” I said. “And his last name is Grayson. I know that Skye never told you anything about your fathers, but you all have last names as first names. Do you think…”

Jameson handed the phone back. “Only one way to find out.” He came to stand right behind me. “We could go out your door, like normal people, but one of Oren’s men is stationed outside, and I doubt anyone on your security team would sign off on you going to visit my mother.”

Going to visit a woman who’d tried to have me killed was a bad idea. I knew that. But Grayson was nineteen, which meant that he’d been conceived twenty years ago—not long after the fire on Hawthorne Island. What were the chances that was a coincidence? There was no such thing in Hawthorne House. And right now, the only person who could answer our questions was Skye.

“Oren isn’t going to be happy about this,” I told Jameson.

He smiled. “We’ll be back before anyone realizes we’re gone.”





Jameson knew the secret passageways like the back of his hand. He got us to the massive indoor garage unseen. He pulled a motorcycle off a rack on the wall and solved the puzzle box where the keys were kept. The next thing I knew, he was wearing a helmet and holding a second one out to me.

“Do you trust me, Heiress?” Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind.

“Not even a little,” I replied, but I took the helmet from his outstretched hand, and when he climbed onto the motorcycle, I climbed on behind him.





CHAPTER 23


Skye Hawthorne was staying at a luxury hotel—a hotel I owned. It was the kind of place that had caviar on the room-service menu and offered in-room spa services. I had no idea how Skye was paying for a room, or if she was paying. The idea that this was her punishment for an attempt on my life was infuriating.

“Easy,” Jameson murmured beside me as he knocked on the door. “We need her to talk.”

Talk first, I thought. Have security remove her from the premises later.

Skye opened the door wearing a crimson silk robe that brushed the tips of her toes and flowed around her as she moved. “Jamie.” She smiled at Jameson. “Shame on you for not visiting your poor mother until now.”

Jameson gave me the briefest of warning looks, a clear Let me handle this.

“I’m an awful son,” Jameson agreed, dialing his level of charm up to meet Skye’s. “Horrid, really, so preoccupied with the person you tried to have killed that I’ve barely spared a thought for how difficult getting caught must have been for you.”

I hadn’t breathed a word to Jameson about what his mother had done, but he knew Skye had moved out. It probably hadn’t taken him long to figure out that Grayson had forced her out—and why.

“What has your brother been telling you?” Skye demanded, without specifying which brother she was talking about. “And you believe him? Believe her—”

“I believe,” Jameson said smoothly, “that I’ve found Grayson’s father.”

That got an eyebrow arch out of Skye. “Was he lost?” The victim act melted off her like snow in the sun.

“Sheffield Grayson.” I said the name, forcing Skye’s gaze to flit toward me. “His nephew died in the fire on Hawthorne Island, along with your brother, Toby.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“And I have no idea why you think lying to me is a good idea, when I could have you kicked out of this hotel,” I shot back. I’d intended to let Jameson handle this. Really. It just hadn’t worked out that way.

“You?” Skye sniffed. “This hotel has been in my family for decades. You are under quite the delusion if you think—”

“That the management will care more about the feelings of the new owner than about yours?”

“Aren’t you just adorable?” Skye retreated into the room. “Don’t just stand there,” she called back. “You’re letting in a draft.”

With a glance at Jameson, I crossed the threshold—and found myself almost immediately joined by Oren and Eli. Apparently, I’d been under closer guard than I’d realized.

Skye gave every appearance of being delighted at the appearance of my security team. “It appears we have a party.” She sat down on a chaise longue and stretched out her legs. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? I have something you want, and I would like a few assurances, starting with how very welcome I will be to stay in this penthouse indefinitely.”

Like hell, I thought.

“Counteroffer,” Jameson interjected before I could reply. “If you answer our questions, I won’t tell Xander what you did.” He flopped down on a sofa next to Skye’s chaise. “I’m sure Nash has put two and two together. I figured it out quickly enough. But Xan? For all he knows, this is just another little trip of yours. I’d hate to have to tell him about your murderous impulses.”