by Mari Carr
As Rose passed by her, following Devon, the other woman spoke without turning her head. “You still don’t have any idea what’s really going on here, Juliette.”
Chapter Nineteen
Devon opened the door and ushered them in. “Here you go.”
It might have been an invitation, if Devon hadn’t ushered with the hand holding the gun. He’d pulled it out as they’d neared the tunnel’s exit, no doubt ready to stop her and Weston if they decided to make a break for it. They may have hugged it out, but that didn’t change that fact, or the past.
Rose slid into the room first. It was a small room with empty built-in bookshelves along the far wall. The only furniture was an elegant dining table and six chairs. Clearly it was meant to be used for private meals or meetings.
Weston followed her in and Devon closed the door behind them. There was a heavy thunk as the key turned in the lock and then they were alone.
Rose looked around the elegant room. “Oh good, I was worried for a minute that an entire day would go by when I wasn’t being held as someone’s captive.”
Weston yanked out a chair and slumped into it. “I’m sorry, Brown Eyes. This whole thing went to hell.”
Rose went to Weston, nudged him to sit up, and then sat on his lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, Wes.”
He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. “Is it? We’ve lost our surprise advantage.”
They’d lose more than that, because Rose knew that her time was limited. But she wasn’t going to tell Weston that. He couldn’t take any more guilt.
“No, we haven’t,” she half lied. “They don’t know exactly what we were looking for. We still have information they don’t have. We can use that.”
“If we use that to get ourselves out of here, then Juliette has the information.”
Rose fell silent. She laid her cheek on Wes’s silky hair. “Then we let her deal with them, and we run for it.”
Weston stroked her back. “That was our plan once before.”
“That plan was made by children. We’re smarter now.”
He laced his fingers with hers. “We are. And we have each other.”
That statement fell heavily, because it touched on the elephant in the room. Marek.
Rose couldn’t help but think back to the amazing sex they’d had on the plane. She knew better than to think good sex and a loving touch meant anything.
But she couldn’t stop herself from sighing.
Weston must have known what she was thinking. “We made a mistake, trusting him.”
“I know.”
“I thought…” Weston trailed off.
“I know,” she said again.
“We told him everything.” Now Weston’s voice was a growl. “If he tells Juliette everything, we’re fucked.”
Rose swallowed hard. If Marek betrayed them—though she was cynically sure he would call it “doing the right thing”—they wouldn’t be running anywhere. Rose had done some nasty stuff in the days after Caden’s death, and the fact that she was half out of her mind with grief was a reason, not an excuse, in her opinion. Plus, there was the fact that she was one of the purists. If Juliette cleaned house, she would need to eliminate Rose too. So even if she got a pass for burning down a building and trying to kill a few people, she’d betrayed the Trinity Masters by keeping the secrets of the purists.
Rose swallowed hard. This was the end for her. Weston hadn’t ever been formally inducted into the Trinity Masters, so technically he wasn’t bound by their rules. But still, he’d betrayed the Trinity Masters. And if Juliette found out that they’d been planning to use the Masters’ Admiralty against the purists without telling her, she would be livid.
Then again, maybe Juliette didn’t know who the Masters’ Admiralty were. Maybe that…
But Marek knew. Marek could, maybe would, tell her.
Weston had wrapped his arms loosely around her. Rose pulled them tighter, wanted to feel the pressure of his embrace. Then she closed her eyes and imprinted the memory of this moment in her mind. No matter what happened, she would have this moment with him.
* * *
Marek accepted the cup of coffee Franco handed him. It was a bit late for coffee, but the other man had proudly opened a cabinet in the Grand Masters’ office to show off a large, complex expresso machine. There had been a water kettle tucked in beside it, but Franco had been so enthusiastic about coffee, Marek hadn’t dared ask for tea.
The ritual and niceties were a show, a bit of playacting. Because this wasn’t a gathering of friends.
And the Grand Master was not going to like what he was about to say.
Marek sipped strong, sweet coffee as Juliette Adams took a seat across from him. Her cool, aloof posture and expression was somewhat marred by the bruises that were starting to show.
“I hired you,” she started.
Marek nodded.
“And yet I found you breaking into our headquarters, and if I heard correctly, planning to steal something.”
Marek nodded again.
Her lips thinned into a line, and Devon came to stand at her shoulder, just behind her chair. The threat was clear.
Marek took another sip.
“Care to explain what was going on?” Juliette’s voice was still cool and flat, but her eyes sparkled with irritation heading toward anger.
“You sent me to find and save Rose Hancock.”
“I know that.”
“You didn’t tell me that you planned to execute her once I brought her back to you.”
“I wouldn’t…” Juliette shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Really? It’s my understanding that her,” Marek had to search for a word, “partner was killed, and you were an accomplice to murder and conspired to thwart justice by disposing of the remains.”
“He was shot while breaking and entering. It was self-defense on the part of the shooter.” Juliette didn’t meet his eyes or address his comment directly.
“Rose is very certain that returning to Boston means her death at your hands.” He set the cup down, hard enough that the clink of ceramic on wood was startling. “I would never have accepted the job if you’d told me I was playing bounty hunter, not rescuer. I believe in justice, Juliette, and you don’t seem to be in the business of justice.”
“I saw her get kidnapped,” Devon said.
“Be that as it may, she was not being held prisoner.” Speaking the lie hurt. He didn’t like to lie, but the situation between Rose and Weston had been so messy and complex—and built on false assumptions—that he felt saying he’d been holding her against her will would have focused on the wrong aspect of what he’d found at that little cottage in Sussex.
“We didn’t know Weston Anderson was alive,” Devon said.
“Tell me, did you search for him when he disappeared?”
Juliette froze. “I wasn’t the Grand Master at the time.”
“Very well.” Marek picked up his cup. “Now that we’ve established that our previous contract is null and void—”
Devon started to retort, but Franco put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“—we can establish a new relationship.”
There was a beat of silence, then Franco pulled out a chair and sat down. “A folder. You were looking for a folder? What folder? Why?”
Marek regarded the other man. “You have it?”
“Yes.”
“It seems to me that the best possible course of action is to join forces.”
Franco nodded in apparent excitement. “Yes, yes. Information. Go.”
“First, I need to see Rose and Weston.”
Juliette took a breath and let it out slowly. “Rose is my responsibility. Weston is a legacy, but not a member. He’s free to go, but Rose stays.”
Marek shook his head. “No, I’m afraid that won’t work.”
Juliette’s blonde brows rose. “Oh?”
“They’re mine.”
>
That surprised them, Marek could see it on their faces.
“Like, you’re all in a trinity?” Franco asked.
“I feel no need to label it. But they’re mine. I had sex with them. Care for them. And to be perfectly honest, they need me.”
Devon looked at him like he was nuts. Franco nodded. “I feel you, man.” His eyed Juliette and Devon. “I know how that goes.”
Devon glowered at his husband, but when Franco reached out a hand, Devon took it.
Juliette had ignored the byplay and was looking at Marek. “I’ll lock you in with them on one condition.”
Marek didn’t miss the fact that she’d said she’d lock him in with them—if he insisted, he’d be a prisoner too.
They were worth it. He’d never question that his grandparents, on both sides, loved each other, but he’d assumed love came after their arranged marriages. He’d assumed that he would be like his parents and fall in love with one someone.
Turns out he was a mix of both, because he’d fallen in love with two people. They needed him, and he needed them.
“What condition?”
Juliette smiled.
* * *
Devon came back for them a few hours later. Weston was glad. Stupid to be glad, because this was probably the end for them, but the waiting was soul-crushing.
And, of all the mundane things to intrude on a life-changing moment like this, he had to pee.
Devon opened the door and stared at them. Rose was still on his lap. At one point, he’d felt wetness on his scalp from her tears, but he hadn’t commented—just held her.
“Come,” Devon said softly.
Rose slid off his lap and waited as he pushed up. His legs were a bit numb, and there were places on him that ached from the fight.
He stood, with less control than he would have liked. He’d either twisted his right knee or taken a blow to it that he hadn’t noticed at the time. Rose took his hand in hers. He led her to the door, keeping himself between her and Devon. If he had a chance, he’d try to take Devon out and they’d run for it.
In reality, they wouldn’t get far, but he wasn’t going to walk into this like a sheep to the slaughter.
Devon led them out of the side hall, passing other closed doors. Weston vaguely remembered where they were from his solo explorations after breaking in via the Grand Master’s office.
They emerged through a heavy wooden door, into the grand entrance hall. Devon pushed the door closed and it disappeared into the marble-lined hall, the outside of the door being faced with the same marble of the walls.
The grand entrance stretched out to their right and left. Columns supported the double-high arched ceiling. The hidden door was directly behind one of the columns, which no doubt helped to hide it. Massive double doors at one end of the hall marked the entrance to the formal rooms. Opposite them, down the long expanse of hall, was an elevator door. Weston had never used that entrance, the one accessed from the rare books room in the library above.
“The elevator isn’t operational.” Devon’s tone was almost apologetic. “As a security measure, we disable it unless we know someone’s coming.”
Rose nodded once and squeezed Weston’s hand.
“This way.”
Devon led them twenty feet down the hall, to the point where two other corridors branched off. They weren’t like the tunnels, or even the trim corridor they’d been in. They were wide and well lit, lined with the same marble as the entrance hall.
They entered the hall on the right-hand side. There were three doors off of it.
Devon motioned to the door marked with the letter A. “This one’s yours, Anderson.”
Weston shook his head. “We stay together.”
Rose looked around the hall and frowned, but didn’t speak.
Devon only nodded. He opened the door. “Both of you, then.”
Rose went in first, tugging him after her. She seemed almost eager.
Maybe she, too, wanted it to be over.
The room was small, but everything in it was elegant and expensive, from the plush carpet to the cherry wood vanity. There was a hook on the wall, a large black piece of fabric hanging from it. There was a second door across from the first.
Devon opened one of the large lower drawers in the vanity and pulled out a second piece of fabric, this one white. He placed it on top of the vanity.
“When the bell rings, exit that door.” He pointed to the one across from where they’d come in. Then Devon slipped out the other door.
Weston took a few steps and grasped the handle. The door opened. Weston froze. Had he known that would happen, he would have been much quieter. He waited like that, listening for sounds of Devon returning. But instead, the sound of shoes against marble continued to recede.
Weston motioned with his hand, waving Rose over. His heart started jackhammering against the inside of his rib cage.
Rose put a hand on his shoulder. “Wes.”
Something in her tone made him turn. She handed him the black fabric. He held it up. A hooded robe. He frowned in confusion for only a moment.
This was a formal ceremonial robe.
Rose picked up the white one and slipped it on, closing it in the front.
“Rose, the door isn’t locked. We have a chance to run.”
“I want to hope. It’s stupid. I know we’re doomed. I might even deserve it. But these…” She took a heavy breath. “These are the rooms they use for binding ceremonies. A, B, and C. Each member assigned to a room.”
He looked at the robe, and then back to her. “We’re getting married?”
Rose let out a little laugh. “Want me to get down on one knee?”
“Just because these are used for marriages doesn’t mean that’s what happening, Brown Eyes.” He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “There might be…there might be a ceremony before…”
“Some sort of ritual before they shoot us in the head? Possibly. I was ready to run, but this…” She motioned to herself in her robe. “I want to hope,” she repeated.
Weston put on his own robe, and she helped him do the fastening in the front.
The bell rang.
Weston took her face in his hands and kissed her, fast and hard.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back desperately, coaxing him into lengthening the kiss. Weston dropped his hands, running them down her sides to her hips.
The bell rang again.
Rose pulled back, licking her lower lip.
Weston laid his forehead against hers. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”
Rose let out a sigh. “I love you, too.” She said the words with an intensity that made it seem like she’d been waiting a long time to speak them.
Hand in hand, they went to the inner door, and stepped out into the dark chamber beyond.
* * *
Tristan crumpled yet another piece of paper into a useless little ball. Another dead end. He’d been roaming this bloody library for over an hour, meaning it had been more than two since he’d let them walk out.
Damn it, that had been dumb, but Weston was his friend. It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t break the rules for anyone. His loyalty should always be to the Admiralty.
But he’d given them two hours. After one, he’d headed to the library, planning to get a head start on this clue. He’d set up a satellite-enabled video camera in the room, so he’d be able to see if they came back after the allowed two hours.
They hadn’t.
“Hey, good-looking, what can I help you with? I’ve been watching you roam helpless as a little lost lamb for a good twenty minutes.”
Tristan turned to face the man who’d spoken. He was a slight older gentleman with thinning hair and wire-framed glasses. He wore a cable-knit cardigan sweater over a plain white shirt and loose-fitting brown pants. The man wasn’t even trying to hide his obvious appreciation for Tristan’s looks.
“Oh my,” the man said, circling him. “You are a
well-put together man. The very image of a knight in shining armor. You do any acting? Modeling?”
Tristan shook his head and felt his face flush slightly under the man’s intense scrutiny. The old guy didn’t know how accurate he was with that knight comment.
“I, um, I’m not an actor, no.”
The man waved himself dramatically. “Gods be praised. A British accent. Barry is going to be so sorry he didn’t come back here with me after the service. He would have liked to see you.”
“Barry?” Tristan asked, trying to figure out a way to escape this man. The clock was still ticking.
“My husband. Now, tell me. What brings you to the Boston Public Library? Because given the way you’ve been roaming around here, it’s clear you’re not finding what you’re looking for. Unless of course, it’s me. And then all I have to say is bravo.”
Tristan was fairly certain the guy was joking. Maybe. Hopefully. “Do you work here?”
The man held out his hand. “I do indeed. Lee Hager, the Director of Operations here at the library. And you are?”
“Tristan,” he said, purposely leaving off his last name. “I’m looking for something. You might be able to help me.”
“You’ve come to the right person.”
Tristan figured he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He was coming up empty on his own. As Director of Operations, there was at least a chance this Lee character would know all the ins and outs of the library. “All I have is a phrase. I’ve tried looking in the books the search suggested based on the terms, but I’ve come up empty.”
“What’s the phrase, sugar?”
“Nitimur in Vetitum. In Latin, it means—”
Lee’s smile faded in an instant, his eyes narrowing suspiciously behind his glasses. “I know what it means. Come with me, please.”
Lee escorted him to what was obviously the man’s office. He invited him to have a seat, then excused himself for a moment. Tristan saw Lee withdraw his cell phone. Maybe the phrase was some sort of password.
Tristan didn’t feel any threat from the man, so he remained seated and did what he hated most in the world.
