Beloved Sacrifice: Trinity Masters, book 9
Page 1
Beloved Sacrifice
Trinity Masters, book 9
Mari Carr
Lila Dubois
Contents
Beloved Sacrifice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Coming November 2017!
Read more about the world of the Trinity Masters…
About The Authors
Other Books by Lila Dubois
Other Books by Mari Carr
Copyright 2017 by Mari Carr and Lila Dubois
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Editor: Kelli Collins
Cover artist: Lila Dubois
Created with Vellum
Beloved Sacrifice
TRINITY MASTERS, book 9
A woman with nothing to lose. A man who knows too much. A secret that could destroy them all.
Rose Hancock is no stranger to danger, fear, or pain. Her whole life has been shaped by the purists–a shadowy splinter group within America’s most powerful secret society. When the leader of the Trinity Masters has her partner-in-crime shot, Rose has nothing left to live for except revenge.
Before she can take her revenge, she’s kidnapped and wakes up to find herself in England, with the man who only days before she was sure was dead.
When a kidnapping and ransom specialist, sent by the Grand Master, shows up to “rescue” Rose, she’ll have to decide if she wants to keep running or stand and fight against the purists.
But there are more secrets to be uncovered, and some of those secrets could mean the end of the Trinity Masters…because the Masters’ Admiralty is larger and more powerful. And some betrayals cannot be forgiven.
Chapter One
“You want her alive?”
The Grand Master and her counselors were silent.
Tasha Corzo-Polin tipped her head to the side. “Are you afraid to order an assassination?”
The blunt, harsh word hung in the air and again, no one replied.
Tasha waited, sipping tea from a china cup. They’d commandeered tables in the small restaurant in the Boston Public Library. The restaurant—which served high tea—was closed, as was the library. Juliette wouldn’t have dared have this conversation outside of their headquarters otherwise.
Tasha had been the previous Grand Master’s “fixer” for years, until her marriage. To a casual observer, Tasha looked like a pretty blonde woman who had a sweetly rounded belly—Tasha’s pregnancy was the reason they were in the restaurant. She’d demanded tea and a comfortable chair. Though they could have had those downstairs, Juliette hadn’t wanted to make Tasha walk too far.
“I can use a euphemism if you want,” Tasha continued. “Do you want me to ‘take care of her’?”
“No,” Juliette Adams, Grand Master of the Trinity Masters, said. “I am not afraid to issue the order. I don’t want her killed.” She stared at Tasha with a calm but weary assurance. “We need her alive.”
“Alive is harder.”
“I understand that, but in this particular case, we need to speak to her. We can’t do that if she’s dead,” Juliette started.
“Are you sure that’s the real reason?” Tasha’s hand dropped to rest on the small bump under her shirt.
“It is,” Juliette stressed. No one was willing to push the baby issue. Or even mention it. Even five months pregnant, Tasha was deadly. Possibly she was deadlier than before.
“Tasha,” Juliette insisted.
Tasha raised her brows. “You really want her rescued?”
Devon Asher, counselor and husband to the Grand Master, nodded. “She was kidnapped.”
“Rose Hancock is a victim,” Juliette said firmly. Guilt and sadness pinched the corners of her eyes.
Franco, Juliette’s other husband, reached out to take her hand. Juliette firmly but gently pulled it away.
“Rose also tried to kill my brother and his trinity,” said the third counselor.
Juliette’s hissed out a breath. “Would you prefer I have her killed, Sebastian?”
“She’s not a victim, Jules,” he retorted, his eyes hard.
“Yes, she is.”
“She was, but she had plenty of opportunities to tell you or Devon what was going on. She chose not to. Instead, she decided to come after my family. With a gun.” Sebastian folded his arms, obviously unhappy with her decision. “I think we should let Tasha do her job.”
Devon cleared his throat, angry about the tenor of this discussion. He crossed his arms, his frown speaking volumes.
The Trinity Masters was America’s oldest and most powerful secret society. Created by the founding fathers as a way to keep the fledgling nation strong, the Trinity Masters had incredible power and influence. Being invited to join meant access to that power and influence, but there was a cost—all members agreed to an arranged ménage marriage. The society was founded on the belief that the trinity marriages were stronger than a traditional marriage would be.
Juliette, a direct descendant of John Adams, was the daughter and sister, respectively, of the last two Grand Masters. She’d been pledged to a trinity when she was born. Like a princess—the kind who was married off for political gain, not the kind with singing pet sidekicks—she’d been promised to a trinity with Devon Asher, of the New York Ashers, and Rose Hancock.
Her first act as Grand Master had been to dissolve her trinity. In the end, she’d still married Devon.
And Rose Hancock, who’d been pledged to Devon and Juliette for most of their lives, had turned out to be a traitor. A plant, meant to marry Juliette in order to get close to the Grand Master.
Franco stared at Sebastian. “Watch yourself.” Franco’s accent was a bit thicker than normal.
“Is that a threat?” Sebastian’s eyes were cold. “The purists, Rose, nearly killed my brother, and you expect me to feel sorry for her?”
“Enough.” Juliette’s tone rang with authority. Sebastian and Franco stopped talking. Devon’s hands flexed, curling and uncurling in fists, and Juliette feared the men would wind up in a physical brawl if she didn’t take control of the situation.
“Tasha.” Juliette spoke with cool, measured tones. “I want Rose found and taken alive.”
“I can’t do it,” Tasha said.
Juliette smiled, and some of the tension that hovered between them dissipated. “I didn’t expect you to.”
“Not because I’m pregnant.” Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “You think I can’t do it because I’m pregnant?”
“No, of course not,” Juliette hurried to say.
“Nope,” Seba
stian blurted out, holding up his hands.
“Of course not,” Franco stammered.
Tasha looked at each of them, including the silent Devon. “Good.”
“Madre de dios, she’s terrifying,” Franco whispered to Juliette.
“I don’t do K&R,” Tasha continued.
“K&R?” Franco asked.
“Kidnapping and ransom,” Juliette and Sebastian said at the same time. Before she’d been called back to the U.S. to serve as Grand Master, Juliette had been a humanitarian worker. Sebastian had a similar career, but he’d also been an intelligence asset for the CIA. As American aid workers abroad, they’d both been trained on what to do in cases of being kidnapped.
“I asked you to meet me here to see if you have a recommendation?” Juliette had been lucky that they’d been able to have this conversation in person. Tasha happened to be in Boston, attending her husband Marco’s concert.
Marco was one of the world’s most distinguished cellists.
The Trinity Masters was built to shelter not only power, but art and intellect. In peace times, members were identified who were promising musicians, creators, and artists. They were protected and supported by their trinity, a system similar to the arts patronage of the past.
But these were not peace times. The Trinity Masters were at war.
Civil war.
As such, they were on a tight timeline, so this meeting was being held on the run.
“I do. But he’s not a member.” Tasha sipped more tea.
Juliette sighed, resigned. “I’d hoped we could do this from within the organization, but it doesn’t look like that’s possible.”
“No. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard about him. He’s in the know.”
“What do you mean?” Juliette asked.
“He knows about the Trinity Masters, and the Admiralty.”
Everyone froze. The sound of Tasha setting her cup in its saucer rang like a gunshot.
“The…Admiralty?” Juliette asked.
Franco leaned forward. “What do you know about them? How do you know about them?”
Tasha frowned. “How do I know? I kill people and I know things. That’s what I do.”
“Yep. Terrifying,” Franco muttered.
Tasha shook her head. “The Admiralty operates in Europe. Secret organization, though they have some public faces. Old. What I always heard was, ‘The Admiralty protects the secrets of the old world.’”
“That’s it?” Sebastian asked.
Tasha regarded him with a flat look.
“Thank you, Tasha. If you could give us this K&R specialist’s name, I would appreciate it.
Tasha inclined her head. “Yes, Grand Master.”
* * *
Juliette pulled up the hood of her single-breasted black cape coat. There were gloves tucked into the small inside pocket, but she debated putting them on. In the end, it was the cold more than a need for dramatic mystery that had her pulling them on.
Devon leaned forward and spoke quietly to the driver. The driver nodded, his shaggy, kinky hair bobbing in the light from the dash. The driver pulled out a phone and tapped out a text.
Juliette looked out the limo’s window, trying to calm her nerves before the meeting.
Only because she knew what to look for was she able to spot the people who were moving in response to the messages. Two shadows detached from a wall of the library, climbing into the car parked in front of their limo. They weren’t going to this meeting without protection. Living with a CIA agent was an education.
Three years ago, Juliette had known what she was doing—she was helping people who needed it, using her own personal resources and those of the Trinity Masters to create effective, meaningful change. She’d rebelled against the Trinity Masters and her father’s legacy, and the betrothal that had shaped her life.
Then her brother Harrison had been forced to step down, and she’d assumed the mantle of the Trinity Masters. In a moment, the life she’d thought she had was gone, replaced by the incredible power of the Grand Master. But that had come with revelations that changed everything. She’d learned that she had unwittingly been a CIA asset, betrayed by her best friend Sebastian, and by Devon—the man she’d loved, hated, and loved again.
She’d taken on the role of the Grand Master planning to make changes, to shed light on the pockets of darkness. Instead, she had uncovered secrets that had been buried. Secrets that should have remained in the shadows.
The enemy had a name—the purists—and now they knew who was part of the shadowy sect.
“Shall we?” Devon said.
“Franco.” She looked at her other husband.
Franco gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you at home.”
Sebastian wasn’t in the limo. Her third counselor, and best friend, couldn’t be rational about Rose, so she hadn’t brought him to the meeting.
Juliette turned to look at Devon, watching his profile. The revelation that Rose was one of the purists had taken a toll on him. He and Rose were the same age and they’d been in the same class at the exclusive school they’d all attended. Juliette had been jealous of Rose—the older, poised, elegant girl had always seemed Devon’s match, while Juliette had been gangly and awkward, especially around Devon, whom she’d had a painful crush on.
The revelation that Rose was a member of the purists had hit Devon hard. Finding out what had happened to Rose, what she’d lived through, had been even harder. Rose had been raped and tortured for years by the Andersons. She’d spent holiday breaks with the Andersons in the Pacific Northwest, then returned to school on the East Coast and smiled and pretended everything was okay.
Juliette knew that Devon was tormented by images of the teenage Rose sitting beside him in class, hurting and scared but hiding it, not trusting Devon enough to tell him anything.
Devon needed to be pulled out of the darkness, yet here she was, dragging him further into the shadows.
When they reached their destination, the driver, an agent in training at Langley, who had been commandeered along with the rest of his training class to help with this meeting, turned to Devon.
“Sir, the lobby is clear.”
“The target?”
“In place.”
“Thank you. Good job, Washington.”
“Thank you, sir.” The young agent flashed a smile, his teeth white and predatory in the dark.
Devon opened the door on his side and slid out of the car without looking at Juliette. She shivered, cold skating up and down her back. Her heart lurched and she closed her eyes, the weight of it all seeming to press her into the seat.
Her door opened, and Devon held out a hand. She placed her gloved hands in his, letting him help her out of the car. Cold wind blasted off Boston Harbor and she was glad for the hood and the gloves. Devon tucked her hand over his arm.
“Devon…” Juliette wasn’t sure what she could say. What she would say.
“Do you want to turn back?” His jaw clenched. “Do you want to leave her?”
“We’re not abandoning Rose,” she snapped. A tiny voice reminded her that Devon loved Rose. Maybe loved Rose more than he would ever love her.
She shoved that thought down.
“Then we go in, meet with him, and see what he has to say.”
Juliette nodded, and let Devon lead her into the boutique hotel, the location they’d selected for the meeting with the K&R specialist. The walls were all dark wood paneling, the floor glossy tile and precisely placed rugs. Waxy white flowers were clustered in Chinese vases on marble-topped tables. The lobby was circular, one side of the space sectioned off with Wedgewood tables to create the bar area. It was midnight and the bar was closed, the lobby nearly deserted. Behind the curved reception desk there was an open door, and a bell sat on the counter, waiting to summon the receptionist.
There were three occupants—two agents in training, who had taken seats in the white lobby chairs, positioned so they could see both the door and the only othe
r person.
An Asian man sat at one of the larger tables in the bar. He wore a dark blue suit with a black shirt, no tie. His hair was cut in a clean side-part style. His features were even and symmetrical, with the high cheekbones of a male model, though after studying his face, she revised her mental description from Asian to probably-has-one-Asian-parent. They approached, Juliette resisting the urge to pull her hood lower.
The man rose, looking between them.
Devon stopped a few feet from the table. “Marek Lee?”
“And you must be Devon Asher.” Marek’s voice carried a trace of an east Asian accent, but had the clipped consonants of the British Isles. He turned to Juliette and bowed slightly from the waist. “Grand Master.”
She merely inclined her head. They had decided that she’d stay quiet until they established if this man was who he said he was.
“Please, would you have a seat?” Marek motioned to the table, bowing slightly once more.
Devon pulled out a chair for Juliette and she sat, keeping her hands on her lap, her head bowed slightly. Devon sat beside her.
Marek resumed his seat. Silence stretched.
Marek quirked his lips once, then said, “I’m afraid that I cannot decide if I will help you if you do not tell me what you need.”
“Decide if you’ll help us?” Devon questioned.
“I am not a mercenary, Mr. Asher.”
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I would prefer you not insult me, Mr. Asher.”
Devon sucked in a breath, opened his mouth—
Juliette put a hand on his knee under the table.
“Mr. Lee.” Juliette kept her voice low and quiet. “I believe your mother was a friend of my father.” It was a testing question. Once Tasha had given them a name, they’d been able to look through their membership records and learn a bit about him. Tasha had been right. Marek Lee had ties to the Trinity Masters.
Marek inclined his head. “My mother attended Harvard and was part of the U.S. diplomatic corps in Singapore, where she met my father, who was assistant to the British ambassador.”