Delicate Ties (Trinity Master Book 8)

by Mari Carr

  “Stanford White designed the first Bowery Savings Bank in New York.” She circled “bowery”, “bank”, “new” and “york” on the paper.

  “Nice,” Vincent commented.

  “Box Hill was the name of the estate he designed as an architectural showpiece.” She circled “box” and “hill.” “He helped design Tesla’s Wardenclyffe Tower.” She circled “warden” “cliff” and “electricity.”

  She grinned at Vincent and Christian, who were clearly impressed. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” she teased.

  Christian laughed, but Vincent shook his head. “I never thought that for a second.”

  She kissed him on the cheek.

  “Focus,” Sebastian said through the phone, and she recalled they still had an audience. “What does that mean for figuring out the blueprint?”

  Charlotte deflated somewhat at Sebastian’s question. “I’m not quite sure. But it means White was either the person who designed the tunnels, or he was the one who drew the blueprint. I think he’s the artist in the clue.”

  Vincent rubbed his neck. “And we still haven’t figured out where that damn gargoyle fits in yet.”

  “You’re right,” Charlotte said, rushing to grab her laptop. She set it up on the counter. “We need to make a comprehensive list of White’s designs and see if any of those buildings have gargoyles. Then we’re going to have to do some traveling. New York. D.C. Sweet Jesus. McKim, Mead and White renovated the White House in 1903. If it’s there…holy shit. It could take us quite a bit of time to create the list, do the research, but if we divide up the duties…”

  Vincent wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s waist from behind, effectively halting her movement.

  She resisted the urge to shiver when she felt his erection nudge against her ass.

  “Or, Charlotte,” he said, his breath hot against her neck. “We could use a more practical approach. It seems to me the Trinity Masters wouldn’t want anything as important as this to travel so far away. Especially not in the eighteen hundreds. While a quick jaunt to New York or DC isn’t a hardship these days, they took some time back then. Let’s start with the buildings he designed here in Boston.”

  “Lions,” Christian breathed. “Lions.”

  “Of course. Oh my God, of course.” She leaned toward the phone. “Are there any gargoyles in the library?”

  “I know how to find out,” Sebastian said. “Call you back in five.”

  Sebastian disconnected the call without a word of goodbye.

  “You’re a genius, Vincent.” She snuggled back against him. “The Trinity Masters would have kept it close—very close. And White’s most famous building in Boston is the library itself.”

  Christian grinned. “And there are two very nice lions at the base of the main stairs.”

  Vincent took advantage of the brief reprieve kissing the side of her neck.

  “I love the way you do that,” she whispered.

  Christian didn’t move closer. Instead, his eyes were locked to the spot where Vincent’s lips were slowly turning her to a pile of goo.

  Unfortunately, the phone rang before they could move to the next level.

  Sebastian began speaking the second Christian answered the phone. “According to Lee, there’s only one gargoyle and it’s in the Wiggin Gallery. That area of the library is currently under construction.”

  Charlotte grinned, recalling her conversation with Lee. “Behind plastic.”

  “Yeah,” Sebastian said. “But Lee said he could get us into that room to take a look at it. Why don’t I meet you there in an hour or so?” Sebastian suggested. “I’ll call Franco as well. He loves shit like this.”

  “You sure an hour will be long enough?” Christian teased. “Doesn’t say much for your staying power, bro.”

  Charlotte laughed when Sebastian said, “Good point. Better make it an hour and a half.”

  The phone disconnected before anyone could say goodbye.

  “So we have an hour and a half,” Vincent said, taking a step toward her.

  She raised her hand to ward him off. “As tempting as that is, I think we should shower and head over to the library.”

  Vincent tilted his head, his gaze traveling over her naked form. Charlotte resisted the urge to look at herself. God only knew what he was seeing. Every muscle in her body ached, her ass was sore, and the twisted sister who resided inside her was praying there were tiny bruises where the crop had landed. Reminders of the single hottest night of her life.

  “A shower is a good idea,” Vincent said at last. He took her hand, but she tugged free as she rolled her eyes.

  “Separate showers.”

  His gaze narrowed.

  “You know as well as I do if the three of us climb into that shower together, we’re going to need way more than ninety minutes. We’re close, Vincent. I can feel it. Let’s take today, solve the mystery, and then we can go home. Start our lives together.”

  “New York.” There was no denying Vincent was as anxious to get to the Big Apple as she was.

  “Yeah, New York.”

  Christian leaned on the counter of the bar. “Home sounds like heaven to me. I’m getting tired of having my honeymoon interrupted. Promise me right now that the plan is to barricade ourselves inside that incredible condo of Vincent’s, living only on takeout and sex for the next month or three.”

  “I promise!” Charlotte said quickly, surprised when Vincent shook his head.

  “There will be no barricade. I have every intention of taking you back to my club. Several times. Charlotte still needs practice with self-control.”

  She nodded sagely. “Oh yeah. I’m totally green. Going to take years and years of practice before I get it right.”

  Vincent wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and tugged her toward him, stealing a hard, hot kiss. Then he turned and gave the same to Christian before walking down the hallway. “Meet you both back here in thirty. We can walk to the library.”

  Christian stopped her before she took two steps toward her own bathroom. “You okay?”

  She nodded, touched by his concern. “I’m overwhelmed. I’ve never been this happy.”

  Christian’s grin morphed into a full-fledged smile. “Me, either.” His kiss was softer than Vincent’s, but it triggered the same emotion.

  Love.

  Head-in-the-clouds, over-the-moon, starry-eyed love.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte ran her finger along the dusty nose of the gargoyle. “While I fully understand the purpose of a gargoyle in architecture, I’m going to go on record as saying, I’d just put up a damn water spout. These things are creepy as hell.”

  Franco stood behind her, bouncing on his toes like a tiny boy in desperate need of the bathroom.

  “For heaven’s sake, let me look at it.” Franco stepped beside Charlotte, bumping her lightly out of the way with his hip to take over the search.

  Vincent moved toward Franco. No one was going to—

  “Down, boy,” Christian murmured behind him. “Franco is a friend, remember?”

  Vincent took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Christian made a good point, but the memory that someone had broken into her apartment was still too fresh in his mind. Shit, he’d replayed the scene in the living room too many times in the last eighteen hours, the ending changing each time. He’d imagined everything from Christian being shot to the purists showing up to retrieve the book before the binding ceremony—Charlotte alone in the apartment, unprotected.

  “I’m ready for this to be over,” Vincent said to Christian.

  “We all are.”

  “This has to be it, but…” Franco said, running his hands all over the statue. “I’m not seeing much genius here.”

  “Your cloak and dagger needs works, Franco,” Christian teased. “Read a Dan Brown novel or hell, just watch National Treasure. There’s clearly a hidden compartment.”

  “Sorry,” Franco said. Vincent could also hear the
“not sorry” part that wasn’t spoken. “But I’m not relying on fiction or Hollywood to—”

  “What’s this?” Vincent said, as he ran his hands over the base of the statue, finding a lever.

  Sebastian crowded into the corner and for a second, Vincent felt like all that was missing were the red noses and horns to honk.

  “Somebody’s going to have to step away from this damn clown car,” he said.

  Franco and Charlotte stood their ground, so Sebastian and Christian—good guys to the end—moved away to give him space to move.

  “It feels like a lever, but it’s stuck.” Vincent fiddled with it a few minutes, slowly working the metal up and down. He didn’t want to break the thing, but it was hard to pace himself with Charlotte and Franco urging him to hurry up.

  Finally, the thing gave way and a tiny, hidden compartment in the base of the statue opened with a soft click.

  “Wicked,” Charlotte whispered.

  Franco was in the best position to open the door. For a guy who had been in mad rush only seconds earlier, he put the brakes on when it came to reaching into the narrow drawer to withdraw the contents.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t bring a pair of gloves,” he moaned.

  “Either you take that thing out of there, Franco, or I’m tackling you,” Charlotte threatened.

  Franco looked at her with one eyebrow raised, clearly not concerned. Until Charlotte amended her threat.

  “Change of plans. Vincent, pounce.”

  Vincent looked at his tiny partner, his little whirlwind and wondered how on earth he’d gotten here. He’d never taken orders from a woman in his life. Shit, he’d never had a woman try to give him an order.

  “Franco,” Vincent warned.

  That was all he had to say.

  Franco pulled the dusty tome over to a secluded table in the corner, Charlotte hot on his heels. Sebastian stood next to them, trying to steal peeks over their shoulders. The three of them flipped through the first few pages, their eyes racing over the drawings as he and Christian pulled up chairs on the opposite side of the table.

  “You know,” Vincent said conversationally to Christian, “depending on what they discover, we may need to take another trip down to those tunnels.”

  Christian nodded, the resigned look on his face proving he’d already considered that. “Yeah. I know.”

  “You going to be okay with that? I figure Sebastian would be okay going with us if you’d rather stay above.”

  “Going with you where?” Sebastian asked as he claimed a chair next to Christian.

  “Nowhere,” Christian said hastily before begrudgingly adding, “the tunnels.”

  Sebastian’s quick nod proved he knew all about his brother’s dislike of tight spaces. “I’ll go.”

  “No,” Christian said.

  “But—” Sebastian interjected.

  “Would you send Elle and Grant down there without you, knowing the potential danger?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “Never. Not in a million years.”

  “So this conversation is over.”

  “What’s in the book?” Christian asked, gesturing toward Charlotte and Franco, who still had their heads pressed together as they pored over the book.

  Vincent rubbed his jaw wearily. He’d expected to sleep like a rock after last night’s—actually, this morning’s—scene, but he hadn’t managed to do more than toss and turn restlessly.

  “Stanford White’s sketch pad,” Sebastian replied. “Looks like doodles to me, but those two…” He pointed to Charlotte and Franco just as Charlotte whispered, “Oh my God.”

  Franco’s widened eyes matched her astonished look.

  “What?” Sebastian leaned forward, trying to look at the book, but Franco snapped it shut and tucked it under his arm.

  “We need to get this down to the Grand Master’s office, to the blueprint.”

  “Is Juliette there?” Sebastian asked.

  Franco nodded. “She’s waiting for us.”

  They walked through the rare book room to the closet that held the entrance to headquarters. They descended in two groups, Franco and Sebastian going first, followed by Charlotte, Vincent and Christian.

  Juliette was alone in the Grand Master’s office.

  “Where’s Devon?” Sebastian asked.

  “He’s following up on something for the Grand Master. Since Tasha can’t help us right now, he has to go.”

  Sebastian didn’t appear to appreciate the vague answer, but Juliette wasn’t looking at him. Her attention had been claimed by Charlotte and Franco, who wasted no time flipping open the sketch pad they’d just found under the gargoyle as they hovered over the light table containing the blueprint.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “White’s sketch pad. I’m assuming from their excitement, it’s the key,” Sebastian responded.

  “There,” Charlotte pointed.

  Franco was hard-pressed to contain his glee.

  “We need large sheets of vellum, a light box, pencils, a compass and a T-square,” Charlotte barked. Vincent’s brows rose in surprise at her commanding tone.

  “And that map Sebastian made,” Franco added.

  “You drew a map?” Juliette whirled on Sebastian.

  “She said she needed it.”

  Charlotte snapped her fingers. “Hello? Focus. I can figure this out now, but someone needs to get me supplies.”

  “Can’t we do it with what we have here?” Christian asked.

  “I can freehand—” Franco started.

  Charlotte held up her hand. “I spent seven years in school learning to do this. Don’t insult me or my profession by saying you’ll freehand it.”

  Franco closed his mouth.

  “Seb,” Juliette said, “can you get her what she needs?”

  Charlotte wrote down what she wanted, told Sebastian what store to go to, and then went back to the sketch pad. Some of the drawings had small triquetras, like a signature in their bottom corner.

  They remained relatively quiet as Charlotte perused the drawings, and when Sebastian returned an hour later, he was bearing not only her supplies, but food.

  “When was the last time we ate?” Christian asked, popping open a bag of chips.

  Vincent frowned. “I need to do a better job taking care of you.”

  Christian rolled his eyes and grinned. “That’s not what I was saying.”

  Charlotte ignored the food they’d set by her elbow. Vincent considered pushing the issue, then realized there was a good chance it was a battle he’d lose.

  Instead, she spread out the oversized sheets of vellum.

  Charlotte had passed the time waiting for Sebastian to return with Franco, figuring out a scale for the blueprint and then guesstimating the scale of the sketches. The first sketch marked with the triquetra was a model of Copley Square, recognizable because of the church and library. The square itself looked much different now than it did in the drawing, but Charlotte explained that it gave her an idea of the scale of the sketches.

  Vincent watched in wonder as she used that information to slowly replicate each sketch onto the large piece of vellum, at the same scale as the blueprint. It was slow, meticulous work, and after the fourth time she ignored comments and questions from the others in the office, they finally left her alone. Charlotte had lost herself in the meticulous work she clearly loved. Watching her was a revelation.

  Several times, she stopped to stretch her hand or neck or rub her eyes. Each time, Vincent was there, rubbing out the kinks, offering her a word of support or praise.

  Once she said the dim lighting in the office was hurting her eyes, and Christian carried over another lamp.

  Then, finally, she stood and stretched, twisting her upper body to work out the kinks in her back. “Finished.”

  Christian came over and started rubbing her lower back.

  She groaned and let her head drop. “That’s it. Oh yeah.”

  He kissed her on the che
ek. “You’ve been at it for hours.”

  “It would have been faster if I’d been at my drafting table with a window,” she murmured, stretching like a cat under his fingers.

  She turned to face Vincent and Christian, surprised to find the three of them were alone. “Where is everyone?”

  “Attending to other things. After the fourth or fifth time you shushed Franco, they decided they were just in the way.”

  Now that her task was completed, she was obviously ready for company. “Jeez. Can you get everyone else back here quickly? Now comes the fun part.”

  “I’ll send up the Bat Signal,” Christian joked. Then he texted Sebastian.

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone clustered around the light box, which was set up on the small conference table.

  Franco elbowed Christian out of the way to stand at Charlotte’s side. “This is my favorite part.”

  “The big reveal?” she asked him.

  “And the lecture. You have to give a lecture.”

  “I do?”

  Franco looked scandalized. “That’s the best part.”

  Charlotte laughed. “I’m not really one to lecture, but I can explain.”

  She cleared her throat, glanced at Franco, who nodded, then placed the blueprint on the light box. The mess of lines and notations was lit from behind, making the parchment nearly transparent, while the pen stood out as dark brown.

  “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I can now decode this blueprint,” Charlotte announced. “I’m going to tell you what I think happened, based on what I know. This is my hypothesis.”

  Vincent winked at her in encouragement and she smiled before continuing.

  “Stanford White designed the tunnels, with help from his partners. It was either McKim or Mead who connected them to the church. Since they worked for Richardson, they would have either known how to add a tunnel or been able to secretly add in the church end to this tunnel.” She pointed to a point on Sebastian’s map.

  “I think that this blueprint was actually Stanford White’s working sketch, never meant to be used by anyone but him. My guess is that he would have created something else eventually, if he hadn’t died.” She took a breath and picked up the first piece of vellum. “I don’t know if McKim and Mead simply couldn’t create their own drawings or if they didn’t know the extent of the tunnels, or just wanted to get this hidden away as fast as possible. I think that McKim added the border lines and the number, and then had Annie create the cipher with her poems. It’s interesting that they went to such lengths to keep the tunnels protected. Makes me wonder what was going on in the late eighteen hundreds that required such secrecy.”