by Mari Carr
“Get away from him!” Christian yelled.
Charlotte took off, intent on getting to Vincent.
“Charlotte, stop!” Christian said, gripping her arm and holding her back.
She struggled for freedom and, mercifully, Christian didn’t make her stay behind. Instead, he assumed the lead, chasing after the masked man while lighting their way. Neither of them would be any good to Vincent if they injured themselves by tripping. Her heart stopped when Christian stumbled and almost fell over Vincent, who was lying in the tunnel.
The man had started running away at the same time they started moving forward. Given the light they were shining in his eyes, there was a good chance he couldn’t tell how many people he was up against, so he’d decided to cut his losses and split. By the time they reached Vincent, he was long gone.
Christian started to chase him and Charlotte panicked.
“Christian!” Charlotte called out, flashing her light on him. “Stop. Please. What if he has a gun?”
Christian stopped and turned back to her, but it was obvious he was thirsty for revenge. She’d thought him the more easygoing of her men, but there was no denying the rage in his expression, the stiffness of his posture.
Vincent moaned. He hadn’t lost total consciousness, but he’d definitely had his brain rattled around a bit.
“Vincent…” Charlotte ran her hand over his face. “There’s blood. Where’s it coming from?”
“I didn’t see the bastard until I was right next to him. He stepped out of that wall.”
Christian swung his flashlight in the small area. There was an alcove opposite from where Vincent lay. The alcove was half bricked over. There were still stones mortared in place at the floor, up to knee level. The upper part of the alcove had been revealed when the stones were removed. Broken lines of mortar and a scattering of stones on the floor told the story of a secret revealed.
Christian rose and carefully stuck his head in. “There’s nothing in there.”
“Now there isn’t,” Vincent said. “He had this in his hands.”
Vincent dug under his leg and held up a book. Charlotte realized that was probably what the masked man had bent over to get just before Christian charged.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked.
“No clue, but it was obvious it was important to him.”
“That was a hell of a punch. Sorry about that,” Christian said, chagrined. “I think we hindered you more than helped.”
“Those flashlights were bright in my eyes, but it was my fault. I let the asshole get the jump on me. I guess I wasn’t expecting to run into someone down here willing to use deadly force to get what he wanted.”
“Franco warned us to be careful,” Charlotte reminded him, though she agreed with Vincent. There was a difference between being told to watch out for cave-ins versus bad guys swinging flashlights with intent to maim.
Vincent’s anger seemed to grow as his pain waned. “Fucker. God, my head hurts. Did you get a look at his face?”
“No,” Christian said. “He was wearing a mask. Took off when we started running toward you. He disappeared too quickly. I’m thinking the man knows these tunnels pretty well. He turned off the main course so fast I lost sight of him.”
Charlotte tried to keep her flashlight beam away from Vincent’s face because she could tell the light added to his pain, but she was anxious to check him over. “You probably have a concussion.”
Vincent shrugged, regaining his strength slowly. “I played college ball, beauty. It won’t be my first concussion and I can already tell it’s not my worst. My ears aren’t ringing anymore and the white lights flashing behind my eyes are starting to fade.”
“Come on.” Christian bent over to help Vincent stand. “We better get out of here in case that guy decides to come back for his book.”
“Good idea.” Charlotte and Christian flanked Vincent whenever the tunnel was wide enough to allow it, but for most of the journey, Charlotte led the way with her flashlight as Christian supported Vincent. They slowly made their way back to the Grand Master’s office.
True to his word, Franco was there when they reemerged, and he wasn’t alone.
“Seb,” Christian said. “What are you doing here?”
Aha, Charlotte thought. The beloved brother.
Sebastian didn’t have a chance to reply before another man in the room stepped toward them. He was tall and solid with medium-brown hair and a well-fitted suit jacket. “What the hell happened to you three?” The newcomer made his way to Franco and dropped a kiss on the other man’s shoulder.
“We weren’t alone down there,” Charlotte explained as they helped Vincent into a chair. “We ran into a man in a mask. He got the jump on Vincent.”
“Jesus,” Franco muttered, looking at the others assembled. “Why the hell would someone be down there? I thought we’d cleared out most of the valuables.”
“Obviously, we missed something,” Sebastian replied.
“Yeah,” Christian said, placing the old folio Vincent had taken off the bad guy onto the Grand Master’s desk. “You missed this.”
Chapter Six
Franco pounced on the folio, crooning to it as if it was a baby. “It’s okay, precious. It’s okay.”
The newcomer looked at his husband, sighed, then introduced himself to Vincent and Charlotte. “I’m Devon Asher.”
“Of the New York Ashers?” Vincent asked.
“Yes.”
“We have Devon’s family to thank when it comes to support of the arts,” Christian explained. He didn’t know Devon as well as his brother did—given the man was married to Sebastian’s best friend and was his CIA handler—but their paths had crossed on more than a few occasions.
Devon cast one more bemused glance at Franco, who was now crooning in Spanish before focusing on them again. “Describe the person who attacked you.”
Christian and Charlotte took turns telling the tale, and when they got to the part where Christian didn’t chase after him, Devon nodded grimly.
“It’s good that you didn’t. If it’s the same person we confronted not long ago, he did have a gun.”
“Devon should know. He got shot,” Sebastian added.
“That information would have been more helpful before we went into the tunnels,” Vincent muttered.
Christian felt guilty. He’d been warned to proceed with caution, to take care. He’d been too preoccupied with stupid stuff like finding enough air to breathe and not freaking out and making an ass of himself. A good husband protects. Defends. He’d been given one task and he’d fucked it up. Royally.
“Why wasn’t it in a box? Why was it hidden? Where was it hidden? Did you take a photo before you moved it?” Franco spit out countless questions, without waiting for responses.
“No,” Charlotte said slowly. “We didn’t stop to take pictures while running from a masked attacker with Vincent bleeding from the head and we didn’t move it. The bad guy did. It looked like it was hidden in an alcove that had been bricked over.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re not art historians. Can someone call Eli?”
“No, the last thing we need is two of you,” Devon griped.
Sebastian shrugged. “So there are more alcoves, more things hidden in the tunnels. We all suspected that. That’s why we asked Charlotte to look at the map.”
Franco had pulled on gloves. Now he took a small brush from a desk drawer. He used the bristles to clean a small metal placard attached to the bottom right-hand corner of the slim folio.
“It says, ‘Admiralty.’” Franco looked at Devon. “Mean anything to you?”
Devon shook his head. “Probably just the manufacturer’s name. What’s in it?”
Charlotte walked over to the desk to join them. “Hi. I’m Charlotte Mead, Devon.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Charlotte, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Franco’s partner, in case you hadn’t figured that out.”
&n
bsp; Charlotte grinned as she winked. “I had an inkling.”
Christian noticed that Devon didn’t mention their third, or Juliette’s absence, in her own office. They were clearly trying to protect the Grand Master’s identity.
“And this is my brother, Seb,” Christian said, pointing to his younger brother, realizing he hadn’t bothered to introduce them. Not exactly the way he’d intended to introduce his partners to his family, but nothing the past couple of days had gone according to plan. “Sebastian, this is my Charlotte.”
Charlotte shook Sebastian’s hand, blushing at Christian’s introduction. “It’s nice to meet you.” She looked over her shoulder. “And that’s Vincent Clayton, our third.”
Vincent lifted one hand in a weak attempt at a wave, and then let it drop again. Charlotte returned to him, running her hands over his scalp.
“You have a gash from where you hit your head on the wall, but I don’t think it’s deep enough to need stitches.” She grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the Grand Master’s desk. “Even so, head injuries bleed like a bitch.”
She applied pressure to the cut on Vincent’s head as the rest turned their attention to the folio. Vincent didn’t appear to care for her fussing over him, taking the tissue from her hand and holding it in place on his own. “I’m fine, beauty.”
Franco opened it with slow, careful movement. He gently tugged the first piece of paper out and laid it on the desk. Then he did the same with the second and third. Everyone, with the exception of Vincent, gathered around.
Charlotte reached for one of the pages.
Franco slapped her hand away. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, bestie.”
“Don’t touch her,” Vincent said from his chair.
“I want to say I value human life more than historical artifacts, but I’m not actually sure I do, and I know people who could make it look like an accident.” Franco didn’t even bother to look up from his work to issue the threat. Instead, he carefully extracted yet another piece of paper.
Charlotte’s lips twitched and she smiled at Christian, who pantomimed backing slowly away from Franco. Vincent shook his head at their antics just once before wincing in pain.
Sebastian grinned at his brother. “He’s only half joking. I have come to realize that art historians, and regular historians too, are all totally nuts.”
“Unlike us theater people,” Christian deadpanned.
Devon leaned low to read one of the papers. “What the fuck?”
That snapped everyone’s attention back to the desk.
“Baptismal certificates?” Sebastian asked, after completing his own inspection. “My Latin isn’t great, but that’s what it looks like.” He looked at Franco. It was obvious this was the man’s area of expertise because unlike the rest of them, he didn’t seem a bit confused by what they’d found.
Franco remained calm—if slightly murderous—as he extracted enough pieces of paper to cover the desk. Then he stopped and straightened. He looked at the papers, then fisted both hands in his hair and yelled, “Holy shit!”
“What’s happening?” Vincent asked.
“Art history freak-out. It happens a lot lately.” Sebastian pulled out a chair from the small conference table and dropped into it, waiting it out.
“I don’t get it,” Christian said. “Why are these a big deal?”
Franco didn’t reply immediately. He muttered in Spanish. Then, he took out his phone and took pictures. He muttered some more. Then, most puzzling of all, he crossed himself, but not as if he were worried or upset. It was reverent, and his head bowed for a moment.
“Franco?” Devon said.
“These are baptismal certificates from the Catholic Church. Look at the dates.”
Christian had already noticed the dates on the couple he’d studied. “They were issued in the forties.”
Franco nodded. “All issued during World War II.”
“Still not seeing the whole picture here,” Christian said.
Franco glanced at Sebastian and Devon, and Christian knew in an instant they were trying to withhold information. His head exploded. Christian glared at his brother. “Don’t even try to keep us out of the loop. Vincent could have been killed by that man down there, doing a task that the Grand Master gave us.” He stressed the words Grand Master, letting them know that regardless of what they believed right now, he could be trusted. He hadn’t told his trinity the identity of their leader, and he wouldn’t, even though that secret rubbed against the grain. “You owe us answers. Without us, that man in the mask would have this folio and you’d be none the wiser.”
Franco sighed. “What we have here is proof of the good that people will do when faced with overwhelming evil.”
“Franco?” Devon prompted.
“These are baptismal certificates.” He pointed to one. “Fake baptismal certificates.”
Sebastian looked back at Franco in surprise. “How can you know that?”
“Because here, still in the folder, is a blank one. During World War II, the Catholic Church issued baptismal certificates to Jewish children. As the war continued, the Catholic Church even passed out blank ones. Blank ones like the one right here.”
A heavy silence hung in the room. Franco cleared his throat and continued. “Fictitious baptismal certificates enabled the government to issue fake passports. It was how they were able to smuggle so many Jewish children out of Poland, Germany, Hungary, France…” Franco shook his head.
The gravity of what they had here was staggering. “These are quite literally simple pieces of paper that saved children’s lives?” Christian asked quietly.
Franco blew out a breath. “Yeah. That’s part one.”
Devon gave in. “There’s a part two?”
Christian went to stand by Vincent, rubbing his shoulder.
Franco lifted one of the sheets. “The thing is…I don’t think these are all fakes created for Jewish children.”
“Why not?” Sebastian rose and came to look at the papers again.
“Because this one was issued by the Church of England.”
“And they didn’t issue passports to Jewish children?” Vincent asked.
Franco shook his head. “There was no need, Jews in England weren’t fleeing. So the fact that there’s a baptismal certificate for a legitimate British subject means…”
“What does it mean?” Devon asked impatiently when Franco paused.
Franco took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. “Hell if I know. It’s just another piece to a puzzle that doesn’t fit together. Every time we find another clue I think this will be the thing that helps us solve it. Instead, these certificates only muddy water I thought was starting to clear up.”
Devon pointed to the folio as he looked at Christian. “The people who are protecting this information, trying to hide it and other items we’ve discovered in those tunnels, have proven they’ll stop at nothing.”
“What else was in the tunnels?” Christian asked.
“It would be safer for the three of you if you didn’t know.”
Christian opened his mouth to argue, but Franco spoke first. “I can’t keep beating my head against this wall. The answers are clearly here. If only I could see it.”
“We’ll get there, Franco.” Devon put a comforting hand on his partner’s shoulder.
Sebastian sank down in the Grand Master’s chair with a heavy sigh, looking as defeated as Franco. Christian could just imagine Juliette’s response to that if she’d been here. She and his kid brother were infamous for their sibling-like squabbles over ridiculous things. Christian wished she were present. She’d find a way to make Sebastian laugh.
“But are we going to get there before someone gets killed?” Sebastian asked.
“Who do you think was down in that tunnel with us, Seb?” Christian asked, unable to shake the feeling that his brother had a very strong suspicion.
“Caden Anderson,” Sebastian replied.
“That
was Caden?” Charlotte asked, sitting down next to Vincent, who took her hand in his. “I wanted to think…after what we heard…”
“You heard something?” Devon perked up.
Christian had made a dinner date with Sebastian to discuss what they’d learned at the club last night. After everything that had gone on down in the tunnel, he’d forgotten the others didn’t know what they did.
Vincent nodded, and then closed his eyes with a groan that revealed he was still in pain. “We met a Dom, who gave us some background information on Caden Anderson and his sub, Darling.”
Christian took up the tale, describing Caden and Darling’s training at the hands of Caden’s parents. Franco and Sebastian were obviously affected by the horrible story the same way they had been.
However, Devon became increasingly angry as Christian told the story. Then, Christian took a deep breath. There was one last thing to tell and Devon wouldn’t like it. At all.
“Darling’s real name is Rose.”
Devon went white. Christian wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed such a complete change of countenance occur within seconds.
“Rose?” Devon whispered.
“Do you think it’s your Rose?” Sebastian asked as Franco walked over to his lover, wrapping his arm around Devon’s waist.
Christian had recalled that Juliette had been betrothed to Devon and to a woman named Rose. While clearly Juliette had kept Devon for her own trinity, she’d married Franco instead of Rose.
Devon shook his head vehemently. “No. She’d never… It’s…” He swallowed heavily as he looked at Franco. “It’s not her.”
Franco didn’t respond at first, and then he offered a quick nod that didn’t fool anyone. “We’ll talk to Juliette about it when we get home. She’ll help us get to the truth. If it is Rose—”
“She would have told me,” Devon growled. “We were engaged for most of our lives. We shared everything. Goddamn it, we lost our virginity to one another!” Devon’s throat worked. “I thought…I thought we had. If that was Rose, if the Andersons did that to her…”
