Secret Scandal (Trinity Masters Book 7)

by Lila Dubois

  A small window within the large steel door opened, and Irina was reminded of the gate into Oz. That thought had her biting back another smile.

  A woman peered out at them. She didn’t speak.

  “Hello. My name is Sigmund,” Jasper said. “I’ve been here before.”

  Irina could see the corners of the woman’s eyes crinkle, in what was probably a smile. “Sigmund. Welcome.”

  The window slid shut and there were heavy metal clanks as the door was opened.

  “Sigmund?” Eli asked.

  “This place is positively Freudian,” Jasper responded.

  Eli groaned.

  The small foyer was intensely modern—the walls were concrete, but had been coated in something that made them glossy, as if there was a layer of glass over the rock composite. The front desk was a gleaming white block, and two molded plastic chairs made up the entirety of the waiting area. Behind the reception desk was the hotel logo—a stylized door—backlit in indigo fluorescent light.

  The woman who’d let them in wore a loose black smock dress. She was barefoot. A gold chain necklace had two longer chains coming off of it, disappearing under the dress. When she turned to move around behind the counter, the thin, crepe material molded to her body, and it was clear she was wearing some sort of nipple jewelry. Irina’s mouth went dry as she flashed back to an image she’d once seen of nipple clamps with chains coming off them that attached to both a collar and another set of clamps…

  She jerked her gaze off the woman’s breasts, only to find that Jasper had caught her looking. He grinned.

  Crap.

  Jasper stepped up to the counter. “Which rooms do you have available?”

  The woman grinned. “Many choices, Sigmund. There is only one other couple. What would be pleasing to you and your lovely…companions?”

  They drove an hour and a half north, deep into Kansas, to make the call to the Grand Master.

  They’d debated going together versus splitting up. There were disadvantages to both, but the factor that tipped the scales over into “staying together” was that if for whatever reason the person or couple making the call had to go on the run, there would be no safe, quick way to let whomever was left at the hotel know what had happened. No one wanted to be left behind, or left out of the loop, so they went together.

  If they had gone east out of Pueblo they would have hit Garden City, Kansas. They hadn’t gone east, they’d gone south, so by backtracking north into Kansas, Irina hoped that if they were spotted or traced, their presence in Garden City would lead their pursuers to assume they were on a straight eastward route, working their way toward Wichita. That might prevent anyone from thinking to look for them in Oklahoma.

  They ate at a small diner on the outskirts of the city named Wheatland Eats. Their group earned more than a few stares. Or to be precise, Eli earned a few stares. Irina and Jasper wore the workout clothes Jasper had picked up for them, Irina in skintight leggings, a sports bra top, and a thin zip-up hoodie. Jasper wore knee-length basketball shorts and a tight exercise top with long sleeves. The construction of the shirt and stretch material did delicious things to his chest and biceps. Eli hadn’t had a chance to change. His slacks and dress shirt were badly rumpled.

  Their trinity looked mismatched and out of place.

  Eli’s shoulders tensed up as they slid into a vinyl booth and looked at menus. “Someone in here is going to call the cops.”

  “No, they’re not,” Jasper said.

  “A big black man with a nice white couple? Yes, they are.”

  Irina looked around, caught two men at the booth on the other side of the long, narrow diner looking at them. She smiled, and the couple looked away.

  “We’ll eat, make the call, and go,” Jasper said.

  “First, we need to decide exactly what we’re going to say.”

  The waitress came over. They ordered, then flipped over one of the red, scalloped-edge paper placemats and hashed out the message they wanted to leave using a battered crayon that had been left behind and tucked into the sugar caddy. Sebastian had given them a number to call before they’d left headquarters, but it would only allow them to leave a message. Their food arrived just as they finished editing. Irina popped a few fries in her mouth then stood. “Be right back.”

  When she asked the waitress for the phone, the woman threw a look at Eli then ushered her behind the counter, where an ancient corded phone rested on a shelf. Irina crouched down, picked up the phone, and dialed.

  It rang once, then beeped.

  “This is Irina Gentry. We think we found what you sent us to find, and more. It was protected, more heavily than it should have been, by my employer.” She put stress on “my employer.”

  “He called, personally, to say that we were asking questions and doing things that angered one of his VIP clients. We do not have a name for the client, but he will, if one exists.” Here, Irina paused, letting the silence add weight to what she’d just said. “We are safe. What you sent us to find is safe. To remain safe, we are going to retreat, and hope the information we’ve given is enough to solve the problem. I will check my email on Wednesday, three days from now.”

  Irina hung up and stood. The server hustled over as soon as she did. “Honey, is everything all right?”

  Irina wanted to snap at her, tell her that Eli was the kindest, gentlest man imaginable. That she was more dangerous than he was. But this was not the right moment to make a scene. Yet she couldn’t bear the suspicious glances people were throwing Eli’s way.

  Irina crooked her finger, inviting the woman, whose lipstick had settled into the smoker’s lines around her lips, to lean in.

  “We had to get him away from his little brother, give the kid a chance to enjoy the Wildcats’ recruiting activities. He’s overprotective, and wasn’t going to let the kid have any fun. Plus, he was a Cyclone.” Irina shook her head sadly. “We needed a fair shot at his brother.”

  “Ohhh.” The server’s eyes flickered to Eli. She nodded sagely. “I thought I recognized him. I always watch the games. Looks like you put him through the ringer.”

  “We got ‘lost’.” Irina made sure the other woman could hear the quotes around the word.

  “Oh, honey, that’s just bad.” The Kansas was thick in her voice as her whole body relaxed a bit. She grinned conspiratorially.

  Irina had gambled on several things: that this woman was a Kansas State Wildcats fan—at least when it came to the famous Kansas State, Iowa State rivalry; that implying Eli was a former athlete would allow the woman to slot him into a comfortable stereotype; and that she’d enjoy the idea of thwarting Iowa State, even in a small way.

  Irina winked and went back to her table.

  “Did you do it?” Jasper asked under his breath.

  “Yes.”

  They tucked into their burgers and fries, which were delicious. Or maybe they were just okay, and the fact that none of them could remember when they’d last eaten made them delicious.

  The waitress bustled up, three frosty chocolate milk shakes on her tray.

  “Here you go, honey.” She set the first milkshake in front of Eli. “I heard you’re having a rough day. A milkshake will help that. Here in Kansas, we always help somebody out. You remember that.”

  Eli looked suspiciously at the milk shake, then at the waitress. “Uh, thank you.”

  The waitress winked at Irina as she set down the other two shakes.

  Irina sucked up a mouthful of cold, creamy chocolate.

  Eli looked at her and sighed. “I don’t even want to know what you said to that woman.” But he drank his shake, and the tension eased from his shoulders.

  When they were done, Irina put a hundred dollars cash on the table, and as they left, she and the waitress shared conspirators’ nods.

  “What next?” Eli asked as they got back in the car.

  “We have three days before Irina needs to check her email.” Jasper backed out of the parking space and twisted th
e wheel, pointing them toward the freeway.

  Irina, who’d slid into the backseat to give Eli the added legroom in the front, sat forward. “I think we’re overdue for a couple different conversations.”

  “I can think of another way to resolve our issues,” Jasper cajoled.

  “Sex is not going to fix anything,” Irina pointed out.

  “If you do it right, sex fixes everything,” Jasper countered.

  They continued to snipe at each other until Eli held up his hands. “Enough, you two.”

  They fell silent. Eli cleared his throat. “Talk first. Then sex.”

  Irina sat back, surprised and thrilled by Eli’s words. It was a long drive back to the hotel.

  Chapter Ten

  “Aw, hell no. I’m out.” Eli turned on his heel.

  Jasper slid in front of the open doorway, blocking Eli’s retreat. “Calm down, it’s the biggest room they’ve got. And trust me, this is mild in comparison to some of the other rooms.”

  Jasper had chosen it for the oversized bed. They needed a good night’s sleep, and the custom-made, orgy-sized mattress would take all three of them easily. But right now, neither Eli nor Irina could see the bed, which was on the second floor of the two-story suite, and accessed by a spiral staircase partially obscured by layers of swagged fabric.

  Sultan’s Delight was decked out like a fantasy imagining of a harem. The walls were hung with panels of umber, rose, and gold fabric. The floor was laid with marble tiles covered with indigo, green, and red rugs. It was undeniably meant for fantasy sex and role-play.

  There was a cushion-strewn seating area in one corner with a low wooden ottoman in the center. Fabric hung from the ceiling around it, creating a tent-like feel for the seating area. A low bench mounded with pillows ran along two walls, while huge pillows were tossed on the floor, creating the rest of the seating. The large ottoman at first glance seemed like it might be a coffee table, but coffee tables didn’t usually have cushioned, easy-to-clean vinyl fabric on the top, or gold chains dangling from the legs, waiting to be used to secure a “concubine.”

  In another corner was the auction and sale block—a small wooden stage with a horizontal bar mounted to two adjustable legs. More brass-colored chains lay coiled on the stage and dangled from the ceiling overhead. There was a chest on the back corner of the stage. Two low-backed chairs of rich, dark wood with gold cushions were positioned in front of the stage.

  The lower floor had a bathroom, but this bathroom had no walls. Instead there was a sunken tub and multi-headed shower, both of which were completely open to the rest of the room. A small lip edged the jewel-blue tile floor, keeping the water from splashing into the rest of the room. There was enough square footage, and enough showerheads, to host an orgy. Even the toilet, tucked into a corner of the tiled bathroom area, was completely exposed.

  Jasper wondered idly how many people were necessary to qualify something as an orgy.

  The final corner of the room had a series of wooden cages, four in all. One was waist-high, about the size of a large dog cage. The one next to that was tall but very shallow. Beside that was a large one about the size of a phone booth, and finally the largest cage had enough room for two people in it…or one person with their arms and legs spread wide, and secured by the padded restraints that waited in the corners.

  Jasper went over to the smaller wooden cage and swung the door open. “We’ll put the crates in here.”

  Eli didn’t move. Irina had grabbed the laminated guidebook from a slot on the wall beside the door. If it was like the guidebook that had been in the room Jasper previously stayed in, it would have suggestions for how to use the various equipment and areas of the room.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” he said to no one in particular.

  Jasper tugged the luggage cart into the room and unloaded the crates. There were five in all. Three were clearly sculpture boxes—one of which was the Rodin. The other two were larger, flat boxes—they were for framed art. There really was no reason to take them, except he and Eli had been able to tell by the weight that there was still something in them.

  Jasper had asked for a new lock at the front desk, and the proprietress had pulled one out of a stock behind the counter. He ripped open the packet and tested the heavy silver lock. It wouldn’t stop someone, merely slow them down. He snapped the lock closed and hooked the key into a dangling tassel on the wall.

  Jasper unloaded the suitcases and Irina’s black bag “kit” and then shoved the cart into the hall. “I’ll take these up to the bedroom.” Jasper waited for one of them to offer to help. Neither paid any attention to him.

  The bedroom upstairs was sumptuously decorated, with more rich fabric drapes and a gold bed cover. The massive bed took up most of the floor space. The bathroom—with a standard shower-tub and blessedly private toilet—took up one corner of the room, and created an alcove that was completely lined by closets. Instead of doors, the closet had heavy drapes. He pushed the drape aside, only to find the closet was already full—of costumes and “toys.” He tried a different drape, this time finding empty rods and folding suitcase racks. He tossed the suitcases behind the curtain.

  There was an entrance to this room, which led into the second-floor hallway. The proprietress had explained that if they needed to use the elevator to go between floors of their room, they’d have to use the main elevator, since there hadn’t been space to fit a private elevator into the room. He double-checked the locks on the door and then jogged back downstairs.

  Eli hadn’t moved, but Irina was up on the stage, peering into the chest. Bells jingled as she riffled through it. Jasper cleared his throat and she snapped the lid closed like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Shall we?” He gestured to the seating area.

  Irina followed him over, and Eli finally moved, trailing after both of them, hands in his pockets. Irina chose a seat where her back was against the wall and she could see the door. Jasper settled himself into the corner where the walls met, and Eli sat catty-corner from Irina. He groaned as he stretched out his long legs, then tugged his glasses case from his pocket. Luckily Eli’s glasses had been safely at his house when they went to the art exhibit, and Jasper had seen them on the table and snatched them up on his mad dash through the house.

  “How did you know about this place?” Irina asked him.

  Jasper adjusted the pillow at his back. “That’s actually a good place to start this conversation. I came here with a guy I was dating.”

  Both Eli and Irina looked surprised. “Guy?” Eli asked.

  Jasper nodded. “When I joined the Trinity Masters, I realized that there was a possibility, maybe even a probability, that I’d end up with a husband or two. I tried to keep myself open to either gender—just be with people I had chemistry with. When I met a man I was attracted to, I started dating him. I’m enough of an anthropologist to know gender is a social construct, as are the labels of ‘gay’ and ‘straight.’

  “One of the guys I dated was very into leather. There’s a leather room here, so we came for a romantic weekend.”

  Irina crossed her legs, rested her elbow on her knee, her chin on her hand. “That’s smart; to try dating all different kinds of people, I mean.”

  Jasper sighed. “It sounds nobler than it was. I was having bad luck with relationships with women. I thought maybe I’d be better at it with men. I’m not. I’m terrible at it, no matter who I’m with.”

  Irina laughed softly.

  Eli leaned his head back against the wall. “Why did you say that this would be a good place to start our conversation?”

  “Because we should know each other’s pasts. What kind of relationships, if any, we’ve had.”

  There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t a hard silence. It was an invitation.

  “For me, the Trinity Masters was an excuse.” Eli stared at the fabric draped from the ceiling. “I could focus on my career, my research, the paper I was writing. It was my free pas
s to ignore this massive part of my life. My parents worry about me, so occasionally I’d go out on a few dates. I’d take a picture or two, put it up on Facebook, so my mom would stop worrying.

  “I think I said it before, but I was really starting to think that I was never going to get called to the altar. Most of my colleagues are married, have kids.”

  “And do you want kids?” Irina asked softly.

  “Honestly, I do. I didn’t think I would, but the older I get, the more I realize what we sacrificed to join. Maybe if I hadn’t joined the Trinity Masters I’d be married with kids. Maybe I’d still be single, but I would have had the option to adopt. I had this vague idea that maybe I’d one day petition the Grand Master to let me adopt, so I could have a kid when I was still young, if I didn’t get placed in a trinity until later.”

  “There’s a reason they recruit us when they do,” Irina said. “When you’re in college, getting married and having kids sounds boring and unadventurous. Why be like everyone else when you can be different and interesting?”

  “Is that why you joined?” Jasper asked.

  Irina smiled sardonically. “I’m your classic child of divorce. I spent my childhood being shuttled between parents. I had to partition my life into two pieces. I couldn’t ever talk about what happened at Mom’s house when I was with Dad, and vice versa. I dressed differently at each house. I went to soccer practice when I was with Mom, ballet when I was with Dad. I was never good at extracurriculars because I only did half of everything.”

  Irina looked into the middle distance, clearly lost in a past that sounded, in its own way, as traumatic as Jasper’s.

  “Our custody exchange location was outside the art department of the local college.” She laughed bitterly. “Because that had the easiest parking. I spent a lot of time hanging out in the courtyard, watching students sketch and paint.”

  She shook herself. “The one thing my parents agreed on was that I had to excel academically. I could do academic work no matter who I was with. When I got old enough, I started to take on academic work beyond class assignments. I wrote science papers and short stories. Competed in essay contests. Wrote code for a photo-scanning app meant to detect cancer on X-rays. Academically, I looked like an amazing renaissance scholar. That’s how I got into Harvard. In reality, it meant I didn’t love anything.”