Masterful Truth

by Mari Carr

  They matched up the last ten letters, forming the word “mountcupid.”

  “Little Mount Cupid?” Caden shook his head. “That can’t be right. What the hell is Mount Cupid?”

  “It can’t be,” Isaiah whispered when the words formed differently for him.

  “What is it, Isaiah?” Tess asked excitedly.

  “Little Mount. Cupid.”

  Caden looked at him for more clarification, but Isaiah was already reaching for his laptop, logging onto the internet.

  “That’s still clear as mud. Want to enlighten us?” Caden prodded.

  Isaiah kept tapping at the keys as he explained. “Little Mountain in Italian is Monticello. Thomas Jefferson’s home. He’s the next founding father in the poem. That makes sense.”

  “And Cupid?” Caden asked.

  Isaiah found what he was looking for. He turned the laptop so Tess and Caden could see it. “There are quite a few statues at Monticello, including these two. ‘Hope with Cupid,’ and ‘Venus with Cupid.’”

  “Is anyone else freaking out?” Tess asked, her eyes wide with amazement. “We did it.”

  Caden laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. You did it, Tess. You were the one who knew about the fan and the Culper Ring and their love of invisible ink.”

  Isaiah agreed. “Without you, Caden and I would still be in Boston spinning our wheels, trying to track down the history of that Rodney guy who signed the Declaration of Independence. Hamilton for the win.”

  “And let me guess,” Tess said. “We’re going to Monticello.”

  Caden hopped up as if ready to take off immediately.

  “Steady, Cade. You’ve booked us a suite with one hell of a view. I intend to enjoy it for at least one night.” Isaiah was anxious to build on the previous night’s experience. If it were up to him, the three of them would spend the next month in bed, existing solely on room service and sex.

  Caden frowned, but conceded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll start checking into flights.”

  Tess’ phone rang. She looked at the screen. “It’s my parents. I forgot to call them back yesterday.”

  She clicked on the phone and started to walk into the bedroom, but stopped halfway across the room. “Hey, Dad. What’s—? What? When? Are you guys okay?”

  Isaiah walked over to her, concerned. “Tess?” he whispered.

  “House robbed,” she mouthed before speaking to her dad again. “Thank God you weren’t home. What did the police say?”

  Caden moved quickly, capturing her attention. “Did they take the poem?”

  Tess seemed surprised by his question, but asked her father anyway.

  “Oh shit. Seriously?” Her response was all Isaiah had to hear. Caden cursed.

  As Tess continued to speak to her dad, Isaiah walked to where Caden had dropped down to sit on the circular sectional.

  “You think the break-in was connected to the poem.” Isaiah didn’t bother to pose his comment as a question. He thought the same thing.

  “Somebody else is working on this mystery.”

  “Yeah. It would appear that way. That day at headquarters, after we were assigned our task…” Isaiah had held off asking Caden why the Grand Master’s advisor had wanted to talk to him alone, but now it suddenly seemed pertinent. “Why did the advisor ask you to hang back?”

  Caden blew out a long breath and for a moment, Isaiah thought he might refuse to answer, thought he’d misinterpreted the bond they had started to form last night.

  Finally, Caden said, “Let’s wait until Tess gets off the phone. She should hear this too.”

  Isaiah smiled, relieved. He reached over and placed a firm hand on Caden’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it all out, Cade. The mystery, the relationship, all of it.”

  Caden nodded, but Isaiah noticed the other man’s eyes were clouded with doubt.

  “Well,” Tess said, claiming her own spot on the couch between them. “That sounds like a mess. My parents went out to dinner last night to celebrate their anniversary. When they got home, the place was completely trashed. Someone had kicked in the back door and gone to town on it. Stole a bunch of electronics and jewelry, threw furniture over, broke picture frames. They wrecked the whole place.”

  “And the poem?”

  “Gone. Dad had brought it down from the attic right after I said I’d pick it up. He noticed it was missing just before he called me. I think he might suspect a connection between my questions and the break-in, but he didn’t ask me about it. Thank God. I hate lying to him. I keep wondering what would have happened if they’d come home early.”

  Isaiah wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her close. “Don’t think about it. They’re safe. That’s what matters.”

  “Do you think I should warn them somehow? Tell them to go stay in a hotel or something?”

  Caden shook his head. “No. Whoever broke in, they got what they wanted. There’s nothing to be served by going back.”

  “Even so, do you guys mind if we drive to Virginia?” she asked. “I’d like to stop in and see my family on the way to Charlottesville, and I think we should get this fan to the Smithsonian. It’ll be safer there than with us.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Isaiah said before turning to Caden. “So…” he prompted as Tess looked at both of them curiously.

  Caden cleared his throat, hesitating slightly before speaking. “It’s obvious someone else is trying to follow the path laid out by the poem. I didn’t want to say anything earlier because I wasn’t sure. But now…”

  “What is it, Caden?” Tess asked.

  “I saw a man today on the street who looked like Priscilla Hancock’s driver. I got a pretty good look at the guy outside the library the other day. He got into a black town car when we got in the taxi and I thought he was following us, but I decided I was just being paranoid when he took a left and disappeared.”

  “Who is Priscilla Hancock to you?” Tess asked.

  “I told you about my foster sister.” Caden swallowed heavily. “Rose.”

  “The one your parents were training to be a submissive.” Even as he said it, Isaiah felt sick to his stomach. What they’d called “training” was rape, plain and simple. Giving it another word didn’t change the pure evil behind it.

  “Yeah.” Caden leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bent. This conversation was hard for him.

  “What about her?” Tess prodded as she placed a comforting hand on Caden’s forearm.

  “The Hancocks are her parents. They didn’t want to publicly acknowledge Rose as their child, which is why she started living with us. That, and it’s pretty clear they gave Rose to my family so that my fathers could train her alongside me and my brother. The Grand Master believes—I believe—that the Hancocks are purists, that they’ve been benefiting financially from that stolen artwork and working overtime to keep the truth from coming out about their ancestors’ involvement. Mr. Hancock is Jayce Hancock.”

  “The state senator from Massachusetts?” Isaiah asked, aghast.

  “Yeah. He and his wife work very hard to maintain their lily-white reputations. It wouldn’t do his career any good for it to slip out that his ancestors were Nazi sympathizers who killed a boatful of children, and that he actively hid that fact while profiting from it.”

  “Lots of people have skeletons in their closets,” Tess said.

  “Yeah. But the Hancocks are all about image. They’re vain, selfish, egocentric assholes.”

  “If they’re members of the Trinity Masters, who is their third?”

  Every time Caden said Rose’s name, it took him back to a dark place he preferred to never see again. “Rose’s mother. Tallulah Grayson.”

  Isaiah sighed. “You think they’re the ones following the trail. Trying to decipher the poem.”

  “It’s going to suck if they are,” Tess said. “They’re in the poem. What if we find a clue that leads us to them? Or what if they have a clue we need?”

  “If they are pu
rists, they know about the role I played in helping my parents.” Caden threw his head back against the couch, closing his eyes, revealing his exhaustion. Isaiah couldn’t imagine what the past few years had done to Caden, but it was obvious they hadn’t been easy. “Actually, there’s no if. They are. And Priscilla knows exactly what I did for my parents.”

  “The Grand Master’s advisor asked you to be a double agent?”

  Caden opened his tired eyes and chuckled at Isaiah’s question. “Yeah. Sort of, but I’m not freaking James Bond. They let me know that the Hancocks may come knocking on my door. My decision about how to react to that visit was left up to me. The Grand Master doesn’t have enough evidence to accuse them outright, and like I said, the Trinity Masters need whatever this poem is hiding. If I was smart, I would have pretended I was going to take over from my parents.”

  “I don’t want you to have anything to do with them.” Tess leaned toward Caden, wrapping her arms around his waist. He drew her closer and tightened the hold, looking at Isaiah as he did so.

  “They know I’m not an ally. Not after my conversation with Mrs. Hancock outside the library. I should have played along, agreed with her. I was trying but…but I’m so damned tired of all the lies. I fucked it up.”

  Isaiah laid his hand on Caden’s shoulder, offering him what little comfort he could.

  “If they assume I’ve changed loyalties, and they know about this poem, the same way your family did, Tess, they’re probably trying to get whatever this is before we do. They’re not going to bother recruiting me back to their cause. They’re going to cover their asses.”

  Isaiah agreed. If the Hancocks were responsible for the break-in at Tess’ family’s house, they weren’t looking to expand their numbers. They were entering the race.

  Suddenly, Caden’s fast-forward attitude was starting to make sense. Time was no longer on their side.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tess opened the door to Pat’s Pub, grinning widely as her senses were assaulted by the gorgeous scents of Riley’s food and the loud laughter coming from the bar as Padraig and his dad, Tris, fought to tell the funnier joke.

  She’d stumbled across the place several years ago when she was in Baltimore researching details for a maritime exhibit. Since then, she’d made it a point to stop in a few times a year. When she had seen the sign on the highway announcing the exit for Baltimore just as they were all thinking about lunch, she’d convinced the guys to take a slight detour, promising them it would be worth it when they tasted the food.

  “Tess,” Padraig called out from behind the bar. “Pop Pop and I were just wondering the other day when we’d see you again.”

  She smiled as the bartender came around the counter to give her a quick hug.

  “And you’ve brought friends, I see.”

  She nodded, even though Isaiah and Caden were way more than friends. She recalled the hour-long bubble bath they’d taken last night at the hotel. There had been more water on the floor than in the tub by the end of it, the three of them creating a tidal wave of suds. And even though the sex had been off-the-charts, Tess had noticed Caden’s distraction.

  Their conversation about the Hancocks seemed to have set back the progress the three of them had been making. He’d been a bit rougher, more demanding as he took her. Not that she’d minded. But it had obviously bothered Caden afterwards because he’d apologized. Then she’d woken up around two a.m. to discover he’d left the bed, moving to sleep on the couch instead.

  “Padraig Collins, I’d like you to meet Caden Anderson and Isaiah Jefferson.” She used Isaiah’s pen name because she knew Padraig was a fan. Isaiah’s books were one of the things they never failed to discuss whenever she stopped by for lunch. It was another one of the reasons she’d wanted to come.

  Padraig’s eyes widened. “No way.” He reached out to shake Isaiah’s hand, pumping it enthusiastically as he praised his books. “I’m a huge fan. Huge.”

  He and Isaiah spent several minutes talking about his books and the potential movie. Caden saddled up closer to her. “I’m starting to feel like the only person in the world who hasn’t read an Isaiah Jefferson book.”

  She winked at him. “You might be.”

  The three of them grabbed a booth as Padraig returned to the bar.

  Tess was pointing out her favorite menu items when she felt Caden stiffen beside her. She turned to see what he was looking at. A tall man with warm brown hair was standing just inside the door, looking around, not as if he was unsure, but rather as if he were a king surveying a newly conquered land.

  “Caden?” Tess asked.

  “I know him.”

  “Oh, let’s invite him—”

  Caden laid his arm along the back of the booth and slid his hand under her hair. His fingers and thumb curled around the sides of her neck. Tess stopped speaking.

  “Good,” Caden said, using the big bad wolf voice that slipped out from time to time. A shiver worked its way down her back and arms.

  Isaiah looked up from the menu, frowning at them. “What’s going on?”

  Caden wasn’t holding her neck tightly and hadn’t said a word, yet Tess didn’t speak, some strange instinct telling her that she shouldn’t. It was a weird feeling because she pretty much always had something to say.

  Isaiah looked at the newcomer, then back to Caden. “Is he a purist? Are we in danger?”

  “In danger?” Caden’s soft laugh was almost cruel. “No.”

  The newcomer walked into the pub and headed right for the bar. He stopped beside a dark-haired woman wearing a long cotton dress and a plain cardigan sweater. Her hair was in a loose braid, and she was flipping through a stack of papers with one hand and wielding her fork with the other.

  Caden’s thumb started to stroke Tess’ throat, just under her jaw down to her collarbone. Tess gasped at the intensity of that seemingly simple touch and started to squirm.

  “What are you doing?” Isaiah was frowning at them. “I can see both of your hands, so how are you—”

  “Quiet,” Caden commanded.

  Isaiah closed his mouth, teeth clicking together.

  “You two think I’m human, but I’m not. I’m a monster.” His voice was low and rich, almost hypnotic. She’d heard traces of it last night, but he’d kept shutting it down. Today, he wasn’t attempting to shutter it. “I told you what my parents trained me to become. What you don’t know, what you don’t understand, is just how cruel I can be because of that.”

  Tess found her voice, and if it shook a little, she pretended they wouldn’t notice. “Don’t be silly, of course you’re human.”

  Another dangerous-sounding laugh. “Being a Dom wasn’t just some weekend hobby. It was what I did. Who I was. And I was very, very good at it.”

  His thumb pressed against the underside of Tess’ jaw. She inhaled sharply and tipped her head up.

  “Stop it, Caden,” Isaiah demanded.

  “Why should I? She’s mine. You’re mine, too.”

  “And you’re ours,” Isaiah insisted.

  Caden ignored their partner. Tess, who very rarely found herself speechless, was struck mute. There was something about the way Caden was touching her with unflinching authority, as if he had every right to touch her any way he wanted. Some primitive part of her liked it. A lot of the less primitive parts of her liked it too, but instinct told her that how she and Isaiah reacted to Caden right now would determine whether or not he ever really opened up to them.

  “Fine, you were the big bad Dom. Can we just order?” Isaiah said, still not quite grasping the situation fully.

  “You’re not listening. Or perhaps I’m not explaining it right. Maybe a demonstration will help.”

  For one terrifying—thrilling?—moment, Tess was sure Caden was going to haul her onto the table and ravish her. Did people still say ravish? Probably not.

  “Listen,” Caden commanded, releasing his hold on Tess and gesturing toward the man at the bar.

  She shiver
ed, her neck cold after the heat of his hand.

  The newcomer was standing at the bar near their booth, close enough that they were able to hear him ask to speak to the manager.

  Padraig leaned on the bar. “That’d be me. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m interested in renting out your establishment for an evening.”

  “Party? We can do that, but we don’t usually close the bar.”

  “For this, I would need to insist that the bar be closed to the public. Also, we’ll need to move some of the furnishings.”

  Padraig raised his eyebrows. “What kind of party is this?”

  “A munch.”

  Several things happened at once. The woman seated on the stool beside where the man stood fumbled with her papers, knocking half of them onto the floor. Padraig sucked in air in surprise and then started to cough.

  Tess and Isaiah both looked at Caden.

  “What’s a munch?” Isaiah asked.

  “It’s a BDSM mixer,” Caden replied.

  Isaiah frowned. “Wait, did you know he was going to ask that?”

  In reply, Caden raised his voice and said, “Donal.”

  The man, who was in the process of passing the papers back to the young woman, looked over. He caught sight of Caden and his brows went up in surprise. He gave the woman a lingering look and then came over to their booth.

  “Anderson.”

  “Good to see you, Donal.” Caden nodded to the empty space beside Isaiah.

  “Thank you.” Donal cast appraising glances over Tess and Isaiah before he took a seat.

  “Tess, Isaiah, this is Master Donal.”

  “Master?” Tess asked as Caden once more took hold of her neck in a firm grip.

  “Mind your manners,” he said in a hard, stern voice. “You too, Isaiah. Eyes down.”

  Isaiah blinked, but neither of them obeyed. Tess wasn’t about to lower her eyes. She was too fascinated by what was happening.

  “Where’s Darling?” Donal asked.

  “Darling left the scene.”

  Donal sat back in apparent shock. “Darling did? That’s hard to imagine. She was the perfect submissive.”