These Games We Play

chapter twenty seven:everything is so not fine

Oren met me in the hall the second I left Pip's suite. If he'd been up all night, he didn't look it.

"Do you ever sleep?" I asked as he walked me to me back to my room.

"I'll sleep when you're safe." He told me and I nodded at him.

"A police report has been filed," he reported. "Discreetly. The detectives assigned to the case are coordinating with my team. We're all in agreement that it would be to our advantage, at least for the moment, if the Hawthorne family does not realize there is an investigation. Jameson and Rebecca have been made to understand the importance of discretion. As much as you can, I'd like you to proceed as though nothing has happened."

"Pretend I didn't come face to face with death or pretend that Jameson Hawthorne isn't a lying douchebag?" I muttered. "Because I think only one of those is possible." I could pretend I was fine about being shot I couldn't pretend that I wasn't extremely upset with Jameson. I had decided when I opened the door after I couldn't find Pip that I wasn't going to be an emotional reck. Instead I had decided that I was pissed at Jameson for making me an emotional reck because he wouldn't shut up about games and puzzles.

"I'd prefer the first one."

"Good, I can do that. Have you seen Pip?" I asked.

"She went down for breakfast about half an hour ago." Oren's tone gave away nothing. I thought back to those texts, and my stomach tightened.

"Did she seem okay?"

"No injuries. All limbs and appendages fully intact." That wasn't what I'd been asking, but given the circumstances, maybe it should have been.

"If she's downstairs in full view of Hawthorne's, is she safe? What about Cam and Lia they are down there as well."

"Their security details are aware of the situation. They do not currently believe they is at risk."

None of them were the heiress. They weren't the target. I was.

☆☆☆☆

I got dressed and went downstairs. I'd gone with a high-necked top to hide my stitches, and I'd covered the scratch on my cheek with makeup, as much as I could. In the dining room, a selection of pastries had been set out on the sideboard.

Pip was curled up in a large accent chair in the corner of the room. Nash was sitting in the chair beside her, his legs sticking straight out, his cowboy boots crossed at the ankles. Keeping watch. Cam and Lia were with Xander and Nan. Cam and Xander were chatting. Lia was talking to Nan who seemed happy.

Zara and Constantine sat at one end of the dining room table. She was reading a newspaper. He was reading a tablet. Neither paid the least bit of attention to me. Both had their reasons to kill me. I kept walking so I could get to my friends. As I walked I felt movement behind me and whirled.

"Somebody's jumpy this morning," Thea declared, hooking an arm through mine and leading me toward the sideboard. Lia looked back then the look in my eyes was screaming help. Oren followed, like a shadow.

"You've been a busy girl," Thea murmured, directly into my ear. I knew that she had been watching me, that she'd probably been ordered to stick close and report back. How close was she last night? What does she know? Based on what Oren had said, Thea hadn't shot me herself, but the timing of her move into Hawthorne House didn't seem like a coincidence. Zara had brought her niece here for a reason.

"Don't play the innocent," Thea advised, picking up a croissant and bringing it to her lips. "Rebecca called me." I fought the urge to glance back at Oren. He'd indicated that Rebecca would keep her mouth shut about the shooting. What else was he wrong about?