by Mari Carr
Isaiah and Tess had immediately taken up residence on the couch, each armed with a pen and notepad, trying to work out what the letters on the statues could stand for. None of the anagrams they’d created made any sense.
They couldn’t come up with a single word that used all twelve letters, though they’d amassed a fairly lengthy list of words that used some of them, and now they were trying to combine them with no success.
“Codex. Codec. Code. Popped. Mopped. Comped.” Tess sighed. “This is hopeless.”
They’d skipped dinner, none of them wanting to stop to take the time to eat. So now, they were frustrated, tired and hungry. Not a great combination for Caden, who was barely holding it together. He felt the strong urge to punch something.
That or…
He dismissed the idea of tying Isaiah or Tess or both of them to the bed as he folded his belt in half and…
Fuck. No.
He closed his eyes, hating where his thoughts were taking him. He couldn’t go back there, needed to find another way to get through this.
“Ugh.” Tess tried to covertly rub her side, a sure sign that she was still in pain. She had spent the better part of an hour trying to make her original idea of Roman numerals work again, but to no avail.
“What’s this?” Isaiah asked, picking up a bag Caden had absentmindedly tossed on the coffee table when they’d returned.
“A cipher wheel. I picked it up in the gift shop at Monticello. Thought my sister, Tabby, might get a kick out of it.”
Isaiah took it out of the bag, sitting up excitedly. “Holy shit, Cade. This is it! Why didn’t you tell us about it?”
“What?” Caden had forgotten he’d bought the thing just before their tour. While Isaiah and Tess had dismissed her brush with death, too intent on cracking the code, Caden couldn’t think of anything but that car as it struck her. Couldn’t stop feeling like she’d been hurt because of him. Because of his failure to protect her.
Just like he’d failed to protect Rose.
He should have worked the double-agent angle. And he should have kept an emotional distance from Tess and Isaiah. Something he’d done had given his feelings away, and now they were in danger.
“It’s a Jefferson disk,” Isaiah said, opening the package. “Twelve dials.” He spun them around as Tess leaned closer to watch.
Caden didn’t miss the way she winced when she moved. She’d taken a couple of Advil when they’d gotten back, but she still refused to let him see how badly she was hurt.
He walked toward her, intent on pulling her clothes off to see what the damage was. She’d shoved him away when they’d first gotten back and he’d insisted on looking at her injuries. She wasn’t going to deny him again. If it was too bad, he was taking her to the hospital—and he didn’t care if she kicked and screamed the whole way.
Before he reached her, Isaiah rose. “That’s it. Caden, you did it!”
He paused. “Did what?”
“Solved the mystery of the letters.”
Caden hadn’t given those stupid letters a second’s worth of thought since returning to the hotel. How could he? Tess had nearly been killed because he hadn’t taken the threat seriously. It had been stupid of him. He, of all people, knew exactly how dangerous people like the Hancocks, like his parents, were.
“Cade? What’s wrong with you, man? You’re in no-man’s-land. Focus.”
Caden forced himself to look at the cipher wheel. Isaiah had lined up the letters from the statues. “Okay. They’re just as meaningless on that wheel as they are on the paper.”
“Look down one row.”
Caden followed his directions, his eyes widening. “Hancock safe?”
Isaiah nodded. “Followed by the omega symbol. This is it. End of the line. The last name in the poem.”
“And it’s Hancock.” Caden perched on a chair by the table, running his hand through his hair. They were fucked.
Tess stood, but Caden didn’t miss the momentary unsteadiness, despite the excitement in her voice. “We just have to figure out if there was something passed down through the ages in the Hancock family, maybe a portable safe or something. Adams wrote the poem, then gave the Hamiltons the fan, the Jeffersons the statues, and the Hancocks the safe. The whole thing works. I guarantee you…what we’re seeking is in that safe.”
“Great, Tess,” Caden said sarcastically, his nerves shot. “So what’s to say the Hancocks didn’t open and dispose of whatever was in that safe a hundred years ago?”
“They might not realize,” Isaiah said. “Maybe there’s a code to open the safe, something the Hancocks don’t have.”
Caden shook his head. “Spoiler alert, Isaiah. Neither do we.”
“Caden,” Tess said, stepping closer. She limped slightly, and he lost it.
“Take off your clothes,” he barked.
She scowled at him. “What?”
“I want to see how badly you’re hurt, Tess. You and Isaiah can sit around here and act like everything’s fine, but it’s not. There are some seriously evil people out there who want what we have—even if it is fuck all. They will kill to get it, and I swear to God, hell will freeze over before I let them hurt someone else I care about. So take off your fucking clothes!”
Tess remained motionless in the face of his fury. Then, before he could apologize for his anger, she shrugged off her shirt and jeans, standing in front of him in just her panties and bra.
Isaiah gasped, which strangely comforted Caden. At least he wasn’t alone in his horror.
“Jesus, baby. You should have said something.” Isaiah rose from the couch, walking around her. She was covered in a dark black bruise that started just below her rib cage and went all the way down her left side to above her knee, which was swollen and puffy. There were a few bumps on her right side, as well as three fairly painful-looking scrapes on her arm, which explained her sudden need for a sweater once they’d returned to the suite.
She’d truly been suffering in silence.
Caden had seen the hit, knew it was hard, but somehow Tess had managed to shake off the worst of it and hide exactly how bad it must hurt for hours.
“Get in bed.” Caden didn’t even bother to soften the Dom. He was furious with her, and if she wasn’t already a mass of bruises, he would be adding a few more to her backside. How dare she hide her pain, try to shield them from how seriously she’d been hurt?
That was the flip side of being a Dom, something his parents hadn’t taught him, something he’d learned from other members of the scene—being a Dom meant caring for a sub, taking care of them. It hadn’t ever been something he thought about much, but with Tess, he wanted to care for her, protect her.
Tess sighed and looked slightly annoyed. He might have been fooled by that exasperation if she hadn’t obeyed the order instantly. It was obvious she wanted to lie down.
He and Isaiah followed her to the bedroom, both undressing as she climbed onto the center of the mattress. Now that they’d seen the damage, she lowered her guard, gasping in pain whenever she put pressure on the wrong spot. They joined her, moving as closely as they dared, neither of them wanting to jar her or press against her injuries.
There were tears on her lashes, but she batted them away quickly. “Didn’t you say your foster sister, Rose, was a Hancock?”
Caden swallowed heavily. “I don’t want to talk about the safe anymore tonight, Tess. I want you to rest. And if those bruises look worse in the morning, I swear to God, I’m dragging you to the hospital no matter what you say.”
She brushed off his words with a single shoulder shrug. “I think we should call her. Ask her about the safe.”
“No.” Caden couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that. He couldn’t see Rose again. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop seeing Tess’ bruised body and comparing it to Rose’s. He’d seen her beaten black and blue. When they were younger, Elroy and Barton would punish her to “motivate” Caden, his father using Rose as a whipping boy.
But what
about what he’d done? How many times had he bruised her skin under the guise of pleasure? Had she fought to hide the true pain he was causing as hard as Tess had all night? Had she ever gotten a moment’s pleasure from their sex play at all?
The fears racing through his brain made him physically ill, so he lay as still and quiet as possible. Once they were asleep, he’d sneak out to the couch. He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.
Unfortunately, Isaiah couldn’t shut down his enthusiasm over what they’d found any easier than Tess. “I think she’s got a good point, Cade. We’ve hit the end of the line here. We obviously can’t call up the senator or his bitch of a wife and ask about a safe. Rose was your foster sister and she’s married to your brother. She’s the best—only—person we have to ask.”
Isaiah didn’t have a clue what he was suggesting, and Caden wasn’t about to enlighten him. Seeing Tess hit by that car had reminded him why he would have been smarter to maintain a distance from the two of them. People close to him got hurt. Period.
Wes. Rose. Now Tess.
There was no way in hell he’d go back and repeat the pattern by dragging his brother and Rose into this mess. They were married and finally finding the true peace that had eluded all of them for years. Caden was happy for them and not about to yank it all away.
They’d have to find another way.
Somehow.
However, even as his partners drifted off to sleep, Caden knew they were right, knew he’d hit the end of the line. They’d run out of options.
Rose was their only hope.
And with that hope came his destruction. Because he couldn’t keep lying to Tess and Isaiah through omission…and they’d never accept the man he truly was once they knew the full truth.
Chapter Fifteen
Caden glanced toward the hotel lobby for the hundredth time in twenty minutes. The three of them had claimed a quiet corner in the Park Plaza bar, opting to forego the table to sit in a cozy sitting area complete with a couple of couches, three chairs, and a large coffee table. They’d ordered drinks, Tess and Isaiah opting for red wine, while Caden had gone for whiskey, neat. He was in need of something a lot stronger than wine.
Tess and Isaiah continued to ignore him when he insisted that Rose wouldn’t know anything. When her grandmother had died, rather than take her in, the Hancocks sent her to boarding school, and had her spend holidays and breaks with his family. That was hardly indicative of the kind of relationship in which they would tell her about the location of an antique safe.
He’d called Devon as soon as they had returned from Monticello, telling him everything they’d discovered thus far. Devon was hesitant to put Rose and Caden in a room together, and he suspected the man had fought valiantly against this dysfunctional family reunion. Devon had even volunteered to ask Rose about the safe, but for some reason, Juliette insisted that the questions needed to come from Caden and his trinity.
And the CIA man didn’t have the final say in the matter. The Grand Master did.
No doubt she had called Wes and Rose to set it up. He was certain Rose would have refused. And like his complaints, her arguments would have fallen on deaf ears. Caden could just imagine the discussions held over who would keep her safe from him. After so much time with Tess and Isaiah looking at him like he was actually a decent human being rather than a monster, the idea of facing anyone’s disdain or horror made his stomach lurch.
In the end, all disputes were dismissed when the Grand Master insisted, claiming this line of investigation was the only logical course.
Caden wanted to say to hell with logic. Nothing about this reunion was going to be simple or comfortable. And to add insult to injury, Tess and Isaiah were sitting with him, completely clueless as to what they were about to witness. He’d tried to find a way to tell them about his relationship with Rose ever since Devon called to say the meeting had been set up, but every time he opened his mouth, words escaped him.
Of course, he’d had countless opportunities to tell them about Rose, but to do so would surely drive them away. At the beginning, that had actually been his goal. But now…God…now…he couldn’t stand the thought of them leaving.
Isaiah and Tess had given him their trust, and they looked at him like someone worthy of respect and love. That would change when they learned the truth.
“Caden?” Tess said, reaching over to place her hand on his bouncing knee. He hadn’t been aware of the nervous movement until her touch. “Are you okay?”
“I haven’t seen my brother in years.” That was factually true, but a bit of an understatement.
“Were the two of you close?” Isaiah asked.
They had been. A million years ago. But that was before.
Before the training began. Before everything went to hell.
* * *
“I’m going in with you.” Marek reached out and adjusted the collar of Rose’s jacket, making sure her neck was protected from the wind that whipped down Arlington Street.
Weston moved, using his body to shield her, further protecting her. It wasn’t exactly hard to understand this ridiculous protectiveness. Devon had called and a meeting had been arranged. Whatever task Juliette had given Caden and his new trinity, they apparently needed to talk to her.
She was going to see Caden again. She’d mourned him and buried him, if only in her mind since there’d never been a body. And when he died, she’d become Rose again. Not Darling.
Now he was back from the dead, and she had to face him.
Face the man who’d hurt her, pleasured her, and loved her even as she’d hated him.
Oh, and she’d married his brother.
Juliette had come to see her to set the meeting up. Rose had put up one hell of a fight, insisting she didn’t know a damn thing, but Juliette persisted. She’d told Rose that neither she nor Weston would find closure until they faced Caden. Rose hated admitting that Juliette was right. If it had just been her, she might have told Juliette to stick her closure where the sun didn’t shine, but Weston deserved the chance to see his brother.
“You don’t need to come in,” Weston said to Marek. They’d been having this argument on the short walk from the library to the hotel.
“You think I’m going to let you two go in there without me?” Marek smiled, and he seemed genuinely amused.
“No, I didn’t think you would.” Rose closed her eyes, centering herself. When she opened them, she was ready—her heart and mind shielded behind the walls she’d built inside herself. Walls she hadn’t used since she’d admitted she loved Weston and Marek and accepted that they loved her in return, in all her emotionally damaged glory.
Together they walked to the front door of the hotel. Rose waited as Weston leaned forward and opened it.
“Do something for me,” she whispered to her husbands.
“Anything,” they responded, nearly in unison.
Rose raised her chin. “Don’t let me kneel.”
* * *
Caden saw her the second she stepped inside the lobby. In the past, one glimpse of her beautiful face and he’d reacted, every instinct driving the Dom to the forefront.
He stopped jiggling his leg and leaned forward, no longer nervous. With Darling, he was in complete control. With Darling, he understood who he was.
But she wasn’t Darling anymore. She wasn’t his.
His gaze jumped to the man on her right and his stomach lurched. Devon had warned him that Weston was different, that he’d suffered serious, life-threatening injuries when their parents tried to kill him.
He’d been prepared for that. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that Weston wasn’t different at all. Physically, he’d changed, but there was no denying this man was his big brother, the guy he’d idolized as a kid.
He took advantage of their unguarded moment to study them. Neither Rose, Wes, nor the third man had seen him yet, and he was grateful for those few precious moments. They gave him time to ground himself. To dig deep for some semblance o
f control.
It ended when Rose saw him, her dark eyes shadowed, sad—and just as he had feared, terrified.
* * *
She was afraid of him. In the past she’d resented him, hated him, needed him, but she hadn’t been afraid of him. He was, after all, all she’d had back then—the only person in the world who’d understood her, and the only living person to say they loved her, as fucked up as that love had been. But now she knew what happiness was, what real love was, and she was terrified that Caden would take all that away from her.
She must have made a noise, or reacted in some way, because Marek, who had his hand on the small of her back, slid it around her waist, pulling her against his side, matching his steps to hers.
“We’re right here, Rose,” he murmured.
“I should kill him for what he did to you,” Weston growled.
“No,” Rose said. “He’s your brother first. You thought you’d never see him again.”
“Yeah, but—”
“It’s okay, Wes. My fear is mine to deal with. Your feelings for your brother are yours. Act on those.”
He looked at her, uncertain, but when she nodded, he picked up his pace and headed for the table where Caden sat with two other people—a man and a woman.
Rose watched at Weston stopped, looking down at Caden, who rose slowly. Neither spoke, and the moment seem suspended in time. Then Weston reached out and grabbed Caden, hauling him into a tight embrace.
Rose could see Caden’s face, and his eyes first went wide with shock before he squeezed them closed, fighting some powerful emotions.
“I wasn’t their only victim,” she said aloud.
“No, you weren’t,” Marek confirmed.
* * *
Caden soaked up the warmth of his brother’s embrace and prayed to God he didn’t break down in tears in front of everyone. He hadn’t expected the hug. In truth, he wouldn’t have blamed his brother if he’d thrown a punch or twelve. Caden deserved at least that. Probably worse.
