Glorious Rivals (The Grandest Game, #2) (49)

Fury surged through Grayson’s veins. No one hurt his family and got away with it. “Elaborate.”

Avery reached out to put a hand on Jameson’s shoulder, and after a moment, Jameson climbed slowly to his feet. “Prague.” His voice was a hollow whisper. “More than a year and a half ago now. You want the short version, Gray? A city of secret passages. A map the old man left behind. I followed it.”

Of course you did. “And?” Grayson said quietly.

Jameson closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” Tension rippled visibly over his brow, jagged and pained. “Not exactly. I was drugged. My memory of that night is full of holes. There are moments—” Jameson cut off.

Grayson put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Fire,” Jameson managed finally. “Voices. And the feeling that I was going to die. That they were going to kill me.”

“They?” Grayson said immediately. But all he could think was: There are always three.

“I don’t know, Gray.” Frustration marked every line of Jameson’s face as he opened his eyes. “I do remember waking up in a rooftop garden. I had tea with a dead woman. She called me dear boy and made it very clear that she needed to stay dead.” Jameson swallowed. “Threats were issued. My instructions were clear: Tell no one.”

Wordlessly, Avery wrapped her arms around Jameson. Grayson’s hand was still on Jameson’s shoulder. For a moment, the three of them just stood there, breathing as one, and then Nash joined them, his hand planted firmly next to Grayson’s on Jameson’s back.

“You told Avery.” Grayson stated the obvious.

“Eventually, but we never pursued it,” Avery said. “We never looked for answers, never looked for her.”

Alice. The big picture here clearly extended past one woman. Grayson didn’t like it. “And the flower?” he asked Jameson. “The calla in the music box?”

“I don’t know,” Jameson said. “I told you—I remember voices. Smoke. The price of wheat. Fire. And being threatened. That’s it, Grayson.”

That clearly wasn’t it. On some level, whether he could access it or not, Jameson knew more.

“You aren’t alone with this now,” Nash told Jameson. He put a hand on Avery’s shoulder, too. “Either of you. And it has to be asked: What about the other calla lily? The one Grayson and Lyra found.”

“Brady seemed to think it might be for him,” Grayson indicated. “He played it off as if he believed it to be Rohan’s doing, but my money is on someone else—most likely his sponsor.”

“I chose Brady,” Avery said, frowning. “I gave him a ticket to the game. Why would he need a sponsor?”

“What do you know about the girl?” Grayson said. “Calla something.”

“Missing,” Avery replied. “Presumed dead.” Realization hit her. “Her name—”

Silence blanketed the room. All of them had a mind for puzzles. All of them were trying to make this one make sense.

“What if Brady’s sponsor is Alice?” Jameson pulled away from the rest of them. “If Alice got to Brady somehow, if she’s here, if she’s watching—we can’t let on that we know. None of the rest of you are supposed to know any of this.”

“We can’t call off the game,” Avery concluded. “We have to proceed like everything is normal. Like everything is fine.”

“Why would our grandmother care about the Grandest Game?” Grayson asked. “Or Brady Daniels?”

“Why would she care about the price of wheat?” Jameson replied.

Grayson rolled that question over in his mind. “They,” he said finally. “Why would they?”

This time, the silence lasted even longer. Finally, Avery turned to Nash. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she said. “You’re going to Libby.”

“I’m going to Libby,” Nash confirmed. “And I’m dealing Oren in before I do. He needs to know there’s a threat. We can tell him it relates to what happened in Prague without telling him how—should give him an idea of the seriousness of this. His men can search every nook and cranny of Hawthorne Island while the players are here on the yacht. Establish a better perimeter—”

“You can’t tell Oren anything,” Jameson said. “Nothing I’ve said can leave this room.”

“Have you met Avery’s head of security?” Nash asked Jameson. “And related question: How would you like John Oren to kill you when he finds out there was a clear and present threat to all of us—to Avery—and you never said a word?”

Jameson chewed on that for a moment. “You might have a point,” he said grimly. “But Alice’s name is never mentioned—not to Oren, not to anyone else.”

“We don’t know that it’s her,” Avery pointed out. “Not for sure.” Her hazel eyes made their way to Grayson’s. “But either way, you need to do damage control, Gray. With Lyra. You need to keep her out of this.”

Lyra. Grayson pictured her, wearing his jacket.

“Keep her focused on the game,” Jameson told him. “That will buy us some time to figure out how best to handle her.”

It was on the tip of Grayson’s tongue to tell all of them that one did not handle Lyra Kane, but if Alice was that much of a threat, for Lyra’s sake and the sake of his family…