Glorious Rivals(53)

“Talking about Savannah, she was not,” Xander intoned, squeezing past Grayson, a scone in each hand. Grayson knew his brother well enough to know that Xander had probably followed him here.

Scones or no scones, the youngest Hawthorne brother hadn’t given up on figuring out what was going on.

It’s better you don’t know, Xan. And right now, Grayson had other concerns. “Gigi.” He turned his attention back to Alisa. “Have you tracked her down?”

“Found her, she has not,” Xander said sagely. “Gave Alisa and her people the slip, the young adventurer did.”

“Yoda me again,” Alisa told Xander, “and every baked good on this ship conveniently disappears. As for your status report…” Alisa turned her attention back to Grayson. “We found the boat Gigi helped herself to about thirty miles up the coast.”

“And by the boat,” Xander said helpfully, “you mean my boat.” He looked to Grayson. “I was the last one to see Gigi before she took off, and I can report that she had a Gigi Plan, capital G, capital P. She was definitely up to something.”

“And you didn’t stop her?” Grayson narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“Gigi didn’t need me to stop her.” Xander took a delicate bite of each scone. “She needed snuggles and a pep talk. There were Viking epics involved.”

“The two of you should not be together unsupervised,” Grayson muttered, and then he turned back to Alisa. “Who do you have looking for her?” Given the magnitude of the potential threat out there, he wanted his sister found. Now.

“Two of my teams and a short-term contractor.” Alisa wasn’t exactly fond of having her methods questioned.

“Ask her who the contractor is,” Xander suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. And then he preempted the question he’d just suggested. “Knox Landry.”

Now that, Grayson had not expected. Knox had been a player in the Grandest Game, on Gigi’s team.

“Though Mr. Landry’s charms may be limited,” Alisa said, “he can fit in with even the roughest locals, up and down the coast. There might be a bar fight or two in his future, but smart money says he’ll find Gigi first. And he volunteered.”

Grayson couldn’t help thinking that Gigi had a way of endearing herself to people. Relentlessly. “Volunteer might be a bit generous,” Grayson observed. “You’re paying him.” Alisa had referred to Landry as a contractor.

“Calls her Lawyer Lady, Knox Landry does,” Xander said. “Bicker, they do.”

Alisa pointed at Xander. “Out.”

Xander grinned, but on his way out, he called back to Grayson: “If there’s a threat, Alisa needs to know.”

Alisa’s poker face prevented her from showing any visible response to that proclamation. Like Oren, she watched out for Avery—for all of them, really. In another life, if things had gone differently for Alisa and Nash, her last name might have been Hawthorne.

Not that she would have taken Nash’s name. Grayson did what he could to douse the fire Xander had just merrily set. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” he told Alisa, “that there is a situation.”

Be on guard, he telegraphed silently. Be careful. And find Gigi.

Alisa gave a curt nod. “Understood. I’ll find your sister, Grayson. Will that be all?”

Grayson wasn’t quite done being a thorn in Alisa’s side yet. “Odette Morales,” he said. “I understand she’s difficult to locate.” Grayson gave Alisa a look but did not elaborate at all.

With Alisa Ortega, he didn’t have to.

Chapter 46

GRAYSON

Grayson found Lyra exactly where he’d left her—at the roulette table, looking for all the world like she belonged there. The diamond-kissed mask on her face held back her dark hair, which was more tangled than it had been when Grayson had left her. He wondered if those tangles were a product of the wind or the ocean spray or simply the way Lyra Kane always moved like there were no limits to what her body could do.

Grayson’s fingers itched to untangle her hair, but he had more control than that. Most of the time, at least.

“I haven’t just been standing around and waiting,” Lyra said, and Grayson realized belatedly that she was holding the roulette ball in her hand, using her fingers to move it back and forth across her palm. “I searched the boat.”

There was something different about Lyra, the slightest of shifts.

“Technically,” Grayson said, coming to stand on the opposite side of the roulette wheel, lest he forget himself, “it’s a ship.”

“Technically”—Lyra stared at the wheel—“it’s a yacht.”

“Superyacht.” Grayson lips curved. “Technically.”

Lyra’s gaze flicked up to settle on his. “You think you know everything.”

“I know that something happened to upset you while you were searching.” Grayson offered no evidence for the statement he’d just made and asked no follow-up questions that might have tipped her off to the fact that he was making an educated guess.

“I didn’t find anything,” Lyra said, and if Grayson had been a different person, he might have believed that her search turning up nothing was indeed all that had upset her. But there was tension visible in the way she stood, her arms braced against the table, rolling that ball around in her palm. Something upset you. Something more.