The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2)(39)

“What if there’s a storm?” Alisa countered. “What if you’re injured? One thing goes wrong, and you lose everything.”

“So do you.”

I looked back to the doorway and saw a stranger standing there. A brown-haired woman wearing khaki slacks and a simple white blouse. Belatedly, I recognized her face. “Libby?” My sister had dyed her hair a sedate medium brown. I hadn’t seen her with a natural human hair color since… ever. “Is that a French braid?” I asked, horrified. “What happened?”

Libby rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I was kidnapped and forcibly braided.”

“Were you?” I asked, only half joking.

Libby turned back to Alisa. “You were just telling my sister that you can’t allow her to do something?”

“Go to Colorado,” Max clarified. “Avery owns a house there, but her keepers here think traveling is too big a risk.”

“It’s not really their decision, is it?” Libby looked down at the ground, but her voice was steady. “Until Avery’s emancipated, I am her guardian.”

“And I control her assets,” Alisa replied. “Including the planes.”

I cut a glance at Max. “I guess we could fly commercial.”

“No,” Alisa and Oren responded in unison.

“Did it ever occur to you that Avery needs a break?” Libby stuck out her chin. “From…” Her voice caught in her throat. “All of this?”

I felt a stab of guilt, because I wasn’t overwhelmed by all of this. I was doing fine here. But Libby isn’t. I could hear it in her tone. When I’d inherited, she lost everything. Her job. Her friends. Her freedom to walk outside without a bodyguard. “Libby—”

She didn’t let me get more than her name out of my mouth. “You were right about Ricky, Ave.” She shook her head. “And Skye. You were right, and I was just too stupid to see it.”

“You aren’t stupid,” I said fiercely.

Libby fingered the end of her French braid. “Skye Hawthorne asked me who I thought a judge would think is more respectable: the new and improved Ricky or me.”

That was why she’d dyed her hair. That was why she was dressed the way she was. “You didn’t have to do this,” I said. “You don’t—”

“Yes,” Libby cut in softly. “I do. You’re my sister. Taking care of you is my job.” Libby turned back to Alisa, her eyes blazing. “And if my sister needs a break, you and that billion-dollar law firm can damn well find a way to give her one.”





CHAPTER 38


Oren and Alisa agreed to a weekend at True North. Fly out this morning, fly back Sunday evening—one night away. Oren would bring a six-man team. Alisa was coming along to get some “candid shots” that Landon could slip to the press. Our itinerary gave me a little less than thirty-six hours to find whatever Tobias Hawthorne had left for his daughter at True North—without ever tipping Alisa off that I was looking.

On the way to the airport, I texted Jameson. Again. I told myself that I didn’t need to worry about him and Grayson. That they were probably drunk or hungover or following a new lead without me. I told them where I was going—and why.

A few minutes later, I got a text back. Not from Jameson—from Xander. Meet you at the plane.

“Okay,” I muttered. “He definitely has some kind of surveillance on Jameson’s phone.”

Max arched an eyebrow at me. “Or yours.”





“I do solemnly swear that I’m not surveilling anyone who doesn’t share at least twenty-five percent of my DNA.” In Xander’s world, that passed for a greeting. “And in other excellent news, Rebecca and Thea will both be joining us on this lovely jaunt to Colorado.”

Max shot a sideways glance at me. “Are we happy ‘Rebecca’ and ‘Thea’ are coming?” She punctuated the names with air quotes, like she suspected they were aliases, even though I had definitely mentioned both of them to her.

“We’re resigned,” I told Max, shooting Xander a look.

He’d told me once that Grayson and Jameson had a history of teaming up during the old man’s games. They’d also had a habit of double-crossing each other, but to Xander, the fact that his brothers had gone to meet Sheffield Grayson without him probably seemed like just another team-up.

I couldn’t really blame him for stacking his team.

“Maxine.” Xander offered my best friend his most charming Xander Hawthorne smile. “There’s nothing I admire more than a woman who makes liberal use of air quotes. May I ask: What are your feelings on robots that sometimes explode?”





The interior of the jet—my private jet—had luxury seating for twenty and looked more like a high-end business lounge than a vehicle. Security sat near the front, and behind them, Alisa and Libby sat in leather chairs opposite a granite-topped table. Nash, who’d tagged along, was stretched out across two seats on the other side of that table, facing Libby and Alisa. Awkward. But at least the tension was likely to keep the three of them busy, which let those of us under the age of nineteen get down to business in the back of the plane.

Two extra-long suede sofas stretched out, with another granite table between them. Max and I sat on one side of the table. Xander, Rebecca, and Thea sat on the other. A platter of baked goods rested on the table between us, but I was more focused on Xander’s “team.” Something about the way Rebecca’s body angled toward Thea’s made me think about the expression I’d glimpsed on Rebecca’s face the night before at the auction.