Alisa Ortega wasn’t the one driving the SUV. Grayson’s brother Nash was. The eldest of the four Hawthorne brothers pulled onto the road with one hand on the wheel. He only had to glance at his mirror for half a second to make an appraisal of Grayson’s appearance.
“You haven’t gotten any real sleep to speak of.” Nash didn’t say a word about Grayson’s flannel shirt—or the stubble.
Grayson, for his part, seemed intent on pretending he was wearing a suit. “And I’m supposed to believe that you have?”
“Got almost five hours last night through sheer force of will,” Nash replied. “Libby couldn’t sleep without me beside her. Pregnancy makes it hard enough, but with Avery gone—”
Grayson cut Nash off. “We’re getting her back.”
“Damn right we are,” Nash said, his Texas accent far more pronounced than any of his brothers’.
“Jameson may have found something in Europe,” Alisa reported. “Multiple somethings, actually, that seem to be shaping up as one of your grandfather’s games.”
Lyra knew from Grayson that Tobias Hawthorne had been a man who loved puzzles and riddles and making other people dance to his song.
“And for whom was this game intended?” Grayson queried.
“Alice,” Nash replied. “Apparently, it was the old man’s version of a love letter. He knew things and wanted our grandmother to know just how much he’d pieced together. Jamie’s working on figuring it all out.”
Beside Lyra, Grayson breathed.In and out.“How is he?” Grayson asked. His voice came out steady, but Lyra knew the question hurt.
“How are you?” Nash replied, like that was an answer. None of them was okay.
“Jameson,” Alisa admitted, “is hanging by a thread. Xander’s with him, should that thread snap.”
“He blames me,” Grayson said quietly. It was the first time he’d said that out loud. Lyra reached for his hand. Grayson let her.
“Jamie needs someone to blame right now,” Nash replied. “You ask me, he needs his ass kicked, too, but I’ve beenadvisedagainst it.”
“Not by me,” Alisa clarified. “My position on the kicking of Jameson’s ass is neutral, but Libby’s insisting we need to give him space, to have faith in him the way Avery would.”
Lyra had never met Libby Hawthorne, but she’d picked up on the fact that the rest of them were very protective of Nash’s wife, who seemed to stick close to home. In terms of the mysteries Lyra and Grayson were trying to solve, going to Hawthorne House was a logical next step, but for the first time, Lyra processed the fact that she was headed somewhere very few people were ever allowed to go. The Hawthorne family and the Hawthorne heiress were infamously insular, as private as they could be, given their fame.
“Shouldn’t you bewithLib right now?” Grayson asked Nash.
“Oren’s with her,” Nash replied. “So is Zara. So is Max—Xander called her. It’s an all-cupcakes-on-deck situation, freeing me up to assess whether or notyouare in need of an ass kicking.”
Grayson had barely slept. He’d barely eaten. He wasn’t okay, and he didn’t even try to argue that he was. “Thea and Rebecca?” he asked instead. Lyra didn’t recognize the names.
“College is keeping them busy,” Alisa replied. “They don’t know Avery’s gone, and we’re going to do our best to keep it that way. We also convinced the Laughlins to take an impromptu trip. Zara and Nan were not so obliging, but only the former has forced us to deal her in.”
Grayson took a moment to process all of that. “And Odette Morales?” he said.
“Still looking,” Alisa reported. “Have you two had a chance to go through the file from the sheriff’s department?”
In response to that question, Lyra passed the sketch of her kidnapper up to the front seat. “This is the man who took me. He knew a lot about this group.”
“This guy a threat?” Nash asked, his voice the kind of casual thatstrongly suggested he would be just ascasualabout taking care of any and all threats.
“He’s dead,” Lyra replied. She could smell the acrid, metal scent of blood just saying the words. “But if we can figure out who hewas, that might tell us something.”
About him. About me. About my connection to Alice—or hers to me.
“I’m on it,” Alisa said. “Between my connections and Oren’s, we’ll see what we can do about identifying your kidnapper, Lyra. In the meantime, Grayson, we need to discuss your sisters.”
“And why would we need to that?” Grayson said, narrowing his eyes.
“Do you recall how old your sisters are?” Alisa inquired.
