Page 29 of The Final Gambit

“Maybe that’s the point, Heiress.”

I recognized the tone in his voice, knew it as well as I knew each of his scars. “What are you thinking, Hawthorne?”

“This second message changes things.” Jameson’s arms curved around me. I could feel mud soaking into my shirt, feel the heat of his body from underneath his. “We were wrong.”

“About what?” I asked.

“The person we’re dealing with—they’re not playing a Hawthorne game. In the old man’s games, the clues are always sequential. One clue leads you to the next, if only you can solve it.”

“But this time,” I said, picking up his train of thought, “the first message didn’t lead us anywhere. The second message just came.”

Jameson reached one hand up to touch my face, smearing my jawline with mud. “Ergo, the clues in this game aren’t sequential. Working one isn’t going to magically lead you to the next, Heiress, no matter what you do. Either Toby’s captor just wants you scared, in which case, these are vague warnings with no greater design.”

I stared at him. “Or?” He’d saideither.

“Or,” Jameson murmured, “it’s all part of the same riddle: one answer, multiple clues.”

His hip bones pressed lightly into my stomach. “A riddle,” I repeated, my voice rough. “Who took Toby—and why?”

Avenge. Revenge. Vengeance. Avenger. I always win in the end.

“An incomplete riddle,” Jameson elaborated. “Delivered piece by piece. Or a story—and we’re at the mercy of the storyteller.”

The person doling out hints, clues that went nowhere in isolation. “We don’t have what we need to solve this,” I said, hating what I was saying and how defeated I sounded saying it. “Do we?”

“Not yet.”

I wanted to scream, but I looked up at him instead. I saw a jagged cut on the underside of his jaw and reached for his chin. “This looks bad.”

“On the contrary, Heiress, bleeding is a devastatingly good look for me.”

Xander wasn’t the only Hawthorne who specialized in distractions.

Needing this and not liking the look of that cut on his jaw, I allowed myself to be distracted. “Let’s make this a game,” I told Jameson. “I bet that you can’t shower and wash off all that mud before I find what we need from the first aid kit.”

“I have a better idea.” Jameson lowered his lips to mine. My neck arched. More mud on my face, my clothes. “I bet,” he countered, “thatyoucan’t wash all this mud off before I…”

“Before you what?” I murmured.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne smiled. “Guess.”

CHAPTER 23

Your move.”

I’m back in the park, playing chess opposite Harry.Toby. The second I think the name, his face changes. The beard is gone, his face bruised and swollen.

“Who did this to you?” I ask, my voice echoing and echoing until I can barely hear myself think. “Toby, you have to tell me.”

If only I can get him to tell me, I’ll know.

“Your move.” Toby thunks the black knight into a new position on the board.

I look down, but suddenly, I can’t see any of the pieces. There’s only shadows and fog where each of them should be.

“Your move, Avery Kylie Grambs.”

I whip my head up because it’s not Toby’s voice that says the words this time.