The Brothers Hawthorne (The Inheritance Games, #4)(74)

Not now. That thought pounded through his brain, blocking out even the agony in his side. Figure that part out later. For now, just play.

Jameson ran, and Avery ran beside him. They made it to the edge, where the grass turned to rocks and the land dropped off.

Jameson looked down. He hadn’t realized how high up they were. No wonder they call this place Vantage. The drop to the ocean below was steep—and at least three hundred feet.

“We’ll need a way down,” Jameson murmured. He turned and looked in either direction. The drop was just as steep all the way around. He couldn’t tell exactly how much beach—if any—there was below.

But when Avery’s hand made its way to the small of his back, he followed her gaze to a part of the cliffs dotted with wild poppies.

Just like the one he’d found in the book.





CHAPTER 60





JAMESON


Near the poppies, the two of them found a staircase carved into the side of the cliffs, nearly completely camouflaged from view. There was no railing, no safeguard.

No margin for error.

“You should stay here.” Jameson knew better than to tell Avery that. He really did. “That dress wasn’t made for climbing.”

Avery contorted her arms, and the next thing Jameson heard was a zipper being undone.

“The dress won’t be a problem.” And just like that, Avery let it drop. She wore a small black slip underneath that covered her from hip to upper thigh and a black bra, and he deserved a medal for staying focused on anything other than the way she looked, her hair blown back from her face and all that skin on display.

“When we find the key,” Jameson said, his voice coming out thick, “we’ll celebrate.”

“We’ll celebrate,” Avery Kylie Grambs told him, well aware of her effect on him, “when we find all three.”





Every step down seemed a little steeper than the last. Jameson’s battered body screamed its objections, but he ignored it. Luckily, balance and ignoring pain were almost as much Jameson’s specialty as taking risks, and Avery was made for this.

Made for him.

He leapt over the last few steps, landing on the beach. She did the same. From where they stood now, several things were clear. The beach was narrow, more gravel than sand. The tide was currently low. A handful of caves were visible from where they stood, but there were almost certainly more—potentially dozens.

“Where to now?” Avery said, and Jameson knew she was thinking aloud more than asking, that her mind was working through this as quickly and methodically as any Hawthorne’s.

This time, he happened to get to the answer first. “There.” Jameson’s eyes locked on to a stone statue in the distance. It stood near the edge of the beach, and he knew that in higher tide, it would be partially—but not fully—submerged.

They ran toward it, because running seemed like the only option. Wind whipped at them. Avery’s hair went wild, but it didn’t slow her down. Neither of them slowed at all until they made it to the base of the statue.

Jameson took one look at it and registered one thing: the statue depicted a woman. He turned to Avery. “Ladies first.”





CHAPTER 61





JAMESON


The statue might have been of a real person or a mythological figure or an image pulled from the sculptor’s imagination. Her hair was long and wavy and thick, caught in what looked like a slight wind. She wore a dress. The cut of the dress was simple at the top, almost like a shift, but near the base of the statue, the fabric became waves, like the woman was clothed in the ocean itself. Her bare feet were visible where the waves parted, her stance calling to mind a dancer. Three stone necklaces adorned her neck, the shortest a choker, the longest hanging nearly to her waist. Dozens of bracelets marked each wrist; her shoulders and forearms were partially covered by her hair. One hand hung by her side, and the other pointed out into the ocean.

Ladies first. Jameson considered the clue, then turned away from the statue to assess the rest of their surroundings. In the immediate vicinity, he counted five caves.

Smugglers’ caves. But which one held the key?

Forget the caves for a second. Focus on the Lady. Jameson examined the ground beneath the statue, followed the direction she was pointing out to sea. And then, with a paranoia born of Saturday mornings and games where his brothers might swoop in at any second, Jameson looked back to the staircase carved into the cliff.

And he saw a woman in a white pantsuit descending.

“Katharine,” he told Avery. If thoroughly searching the caves one by one had been an option before, it wasn’t now. Moving on instinct, he waded out into the ocean, searching. The Lady’s pointing out here.

Rohan could have weighted down a bag or anchored something to a rock beneath the water’s surface.

Jameson bent to submerge his hands in the shallows and came up empty, again and again. There was no time to second-guess. No time to wait. Katharine had an inside track on this place. She might know if there was a particular cave that was suited for hiding treasure.

Ladies first.

She’s pointing out here.

“But what if she wasn’t?” Jameson asked. Before Avery could respond, he was running through the water back toward the statue. Avery was kneeling in the sand, examining its base. And then, just as Jameson arrived at her side, she looked up.