by Mari Carr
She read over it. “Here is what we know. The people who went into town were you, Nikolas, and Marie, who were supposed to go. Almost every other guard went with you at one point over the course of the six months prior to Kacper’s death, but the people who went the most were Derrick and Charlotta. We know he’d been given the tainted medicine for a year. Perhaps we should go farther back.”
“Charlotta,” Mateo said quietly, his attention captured by that name. “She’s from Kalmar.”
Cecilia’s brows rose. “Like the new fleet admiral.”
Silence, heavy with what hadn’t been said, hung in the air.
Dimitri put his elbow on the counter, bumping it against the corner of his screen, which angled it slightly away from Cecilia and Mateo. He straightened and rubbed his elbow as if it had been an accident. “You’re implying that Charlotta and Eric conspired to kill the former fleet admiral so Eric would be made fleet admiral.”
Cecilia frowned. “If that was true, they would have had to plan to kill the other admirals, and know how the admirals would vote…” She paused, then shook her head. “That’s a lot of unknown factors.”
“And one hell of a conspiracy theory,” Dimitri muttered.
Mateo didn’t look at them as he said, “I don’t know Charlotta as well as I know some of the others. She was a reserve member until last year, when Staffan turned forty and retired from the guard to get married.”
“She’s only been serving on the Isle of Man for a year?” Dimitri clicked open Charlotta’s file and Derrick’s. He scanned both as the other two debated the likelihood of a conspiracy.
“Derrick Frederick.” Dimitri spoke loud enough to draw Cecilia and Mateo’s attention. “He graduated from the University of Oxford with a degree in political science. He passed his A-levels in history and chemistry.”
Dimitri waited for their reaction.
“Chemistry?” Cecilia asked. “Maybe he was altering the pills himself. We were assuming whoever it was had to be picking up the altered pills and switching them in transit, but what if—”
Mateo crossed his arms. “It’s not Derrick.”
“How can you be so sure?” Cecilia asked. “You said the traitor had to be on the balcony when Kacper was shot, but Charlotta wasn’t.”
Mateo shook his head. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they didn’t have to be there.”
“You said before they must have been.” Dimitri kept his voice mild.
“Perhaps I was wrong.” Mateo bit off each word. “Derrick wouldn’t do this. He’s a legacy. He’s loyal to the Masters’ Admiralty.”
“And the other guards aren’t?”
“Trust me, it’s not Derrick. He was in the room with me when we hunted down Manon. If he’d been a part of this, he wouldn’t have helped us as much as he did.”
Dimitri rubbed his jaw, rough with stubble. He hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning, which meant he’d be sporting a full beard by bedtime. “Describe what happened in the room the night Manon was killed.”
Mateo took them through the events, describing who was in the hotel room and where. Derrick had helped Mateo bind Manon to a chair with zip ties, then he’d been the one to bind the sniper’s hands behind his back.
“What do you know about the sniper?” Dimitri asked.
“Griffin Rutherford, an American. He was the one who killed the territory admirals.” Mateo then told them about Manon’s raving, how she bragged about being the Domino. “And then Griffin broke free and grabbed the gun, shooting—”
“Wait,” Dimitri interrupted. “What do you mean he broke free?”
“He broke the ties,” Mateo said.
“How?”
Mateo slammed his hand down on the table, clearly tired of the fifth degree. “He lifted his arms and pulled hard.”
“Who secured Griffin in place?”
Mateo bared his teeth. “I told you. Derrick. But there are ways to snap the ties. You could position them so the catch is against a hard surface or...” Mateo sighed. “It’s difficult, but possible. We underestimated him, which was a mistake.”
“And then?” Dimitri prompted. “After he was free?”
“Griffin grabbed Derrick’s gun, shooting Manon and then himself.”
Dimitri pushed up, then casually stretched, using that movement to cover that he was preparing himself.
“If it wasn’t Derrick, then the next most logical suspect is—”
“Charlotta,” Mateo said.
“—you,” Dimitri finished.
Mateo stiffened. “Me. You think I did this.” It wasn’t precisely a question.
“I’m saying that you were the one who semi-regularly picked up the prescription and delivered it to the fleet admiral’s private residence. You were on the balcony. You have access and control.”
“It wasn’t me,” Mateo snarled.
Cecilia rose. “We know it wasn’t. But Mateo…I think whoever did do it, whoever this traitor is, they’re trying to frame you.”
After that, things got very awkward. They gathered their notes, shut down the computers and left Craigencross House without encountering anyone else. Dimitri wasn’t sure what story Mateo had told the guard, but after that meeting, they were left alone.
They got three rooms in the pink B&B they’d passed when they drove into Stranraer. It was midweek, so the place was practically empty, the innkeeper informing them there was only one other room occupied for the evening as he handed Mateo the keys.
They grabbed dinner at the Custom House, the meal a quiet affair. Cecilia made several attempts at conversation, but neither he nor Dimitri bothered to add much, so eventually she stopped trying.
The tension of the day had continued to grow until they’d reached the boiling point. Again.
“It’s clear we’ve hit yet another impasse,” Cecilia remarked as they entered the inn. The foyer was small, simply decorated, containing a check-in desk that was unmanned at this hour of night. Mateo reached into his pocket, intent on handing each of them a room key. He was surprised when Cecilia took all three from him.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Mateo asked as Dimitri stood by the front door, his arms crossed, his mood dark, angry.
“To my bedroom.”
Mateo clearly wanted to refuse, but Cecilia didn’t give either of them a chance to respond before turning on her heel and heading upstairs with all the keys.
As they’d done last night, neither Mateo nor Dimitri moved. Dimitri had been the first to follow Cecilia the previous evening, but now…he couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t move as he searched for a way out. He looked over his shoulder and considered sleeping in the car.
Mateo must have read his intent. “Dimitri.”
“This is a mistake,” Dimitri said at last.
Mateo nodded as he sighed. “It is.” Then he walked to the foot of the stairs, turning before climbing the first one. “Are you coming?”
8
Cecilia sat on the edge of the bed, gripping her knees tightly as a way of hiding the fact they were trembling. She wanted to chalk up the shaking to anger—hers was currently off the charts—but the practical side of her knew it was nerves.
Last night had been the most intense, most incredible night of her life. She’d been placed in a trinity with two men. She’d taken that as a bonus, understanding that there was very little that sex couldn’t cure for the male species.
Cecilia enjoyed sex. She always had. More than that, she’d learned very early on that it could be used as a…well, for lack of a better term, weapon.
She was perfectly aware of other people’s perceptions of her. Her mother had often admired her confidence, while trying to temper her arrogance with advice like sometimes it’s better to be kind than right, words of wisdom Cecilia could never quite wrap her head around.
And her work colleagues called her The Barracuda behind her back, none of them realizing she not only knew about the nickname, but that she loved it. It meant
she was smart and powerful, submissive to no one.
Until Mateo and Dimitri.
Last night, she had actually wanted to hand the reins to them, wanted to hand herself over into their very capable hands and follow their lead. She’d fought hard against the temptation because that wasn’t a position she ever put herself in. She always claimed the higher ground, making certain things moved according to her will.
To do otherwise would make her vulnerable.
Neither man appeared, so she stood up. They would come. They had no choice. She had their room keys.
If they wanted to fight her about what was going to happen, she was prepared to go to battle, because she hadn’t been wrong to suggest sex last night. She hadn’t imagined the closeness between them. It may have been brief, but it had been there. All of them had peeked out from behind their walls for a moment, and it had been glorious.
Until they learned to work together, to open up and come together as a true trinity—in every sense of the word—they would have to steal those moments of closeness in bed.
Sex.
For them, right now, it created a loosely tied knot. It wasn’t enough, but she’d take it.
Cecilia took off her clothes, stripping down until she was naked. The last piece of clothing had hit the floor when she heard steps on the stairs, the creaking of a floorboard just outside her door.
She’d left it ajar, only an inch, so they’d know which room she’d claimed for them.
The door slid open slowly, Mateo the first to enter.
His eyes widened when he saw her standing naked beside the bed.
Dimitri walked in behind him, closing the door with a quiet snick before throwing the lock. The damn unshakable man gave nothing away with his expression as his gaze took in her nudity.
Government paper pusher, my ass. Cecilia was certain he was lying about his career. She had no idea why, but she would get to the bottom of it soon. So far, Dimitri had worked hard to hold them at bay, but this relationship wouldn’t work as long as they were all keeping secrets.
Then she considered her association with the librarians. Yes, it was a secret, but it wasn’t one that negatively impacted her trinity, so it would remain secret.
Neither man approached the bed, their eyes taking in her nude form from head to toe. She let them look their fill for a quiet moment, then she climbed into the center of the bed, lying on her back.
At the last second, she decided to tempt her alpha males even more by lifting her arms, placing her hands palms up on the pillow beneath her. The ultimate pose of surrender.
Dimitri moved first, and she worked hard to hide her smile. It was a smug one that he’d no doubt take exception to.
He noticed it anyway. “Be careful, Cece. You don’t want to grow too sure of yourself.”
She laughed off his warning heedlessly. “You can leave if you don’t want to be here, Dimitri. The keys to the other rooms are there on the nightstand.” She gestured to the small table by the bed with a quick lift of her chin.
He didn’t bother to look in that direction. His eyes locked on her. “Open your legs.”
She considered his request—no, command—for a moment, calculating which course to take. Last night, she’d challenged them every step of the way, refusing to bend to their will.
But she couldn’t deny that she’d wanted to.
Wanted to put herself wholly in their hands.
Just the thought of doing so frightened her as much as it aroused.
Dimitri walked to the bottom of the bed, his arms crossed, making sure she could see the impatience on his face.
Slowly, she parted her thighs, her gaze moving from Dimitri’s face to Mateo’s as he came to stand next to him. Because her pride was tweaked, she decided to take away some of the control she’d just given them by running her fingers along her slit.
Dimitri’s eyes narrowed when she pushed three fingers into her own pussy, while running her thumb over her clit.
“Stop,” Dimitri demanded.
She ignored him, her breath growing shallow as she got more and more turned on. Cecilia liked orgasms. A lot.
However, it wasn’t unusual for her to put in seventy, eighty hours a week at work, spending lots of time on the road, which left precious little for dating or lovers. As such, she’d gotten very good at finding her own pleasure.
Dimitri and Mateo had strung her along last night, withholding her orgasm until it had become almost painful. Tonight, she’d take the edge off first. Then they could issue their wicked, delicious torture.
Her eyes had just drifted closed, her pleasure building quickly, when she felt the mattress at her feet give under a man’s weight. As she opened her eyes, she found Dimitri coming over her, caging her beneath him.
He gripped her wrist, pulling her fingers away from her pussy. She struggled to break free, but she’d learned the hard way that both of her men were much stronger than she. She wouldn’t find freedom until they gave it to her.
The Cecilia she’d always been would have eviscerated any former lover for such heavy-handed tactics, but this woman—their Cece—seemed to blossom under their dominance.
Dimitri glanced to the side and Cecilia saw Mateo had moved next to them. She had no idea what sort of telepathy they were using, but it had become apparent that they were able to communicate their desires without words.
That idea struck her as strange, considering the men couldn’t speak outside of the bedroom without pissing off each other.
Whatever Mateo saw in Dimitri’s eyes had him stripping off his clothes. Dimitri held her tightly to the mattress as their lover disrobed.
Dimitri’s gaze drifted lower, to her lips, and she licked them. Neither man had kissed her yet, and she longed for it.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Dimitri’s expression told her he wanted to, but he didn’t move. She couldn’t tell if it was another power play on his part, a way to deny her what she wanted until she begged, or if there was something else holding him back.
They stared at each other for a long minute, the pull between them growing tighter, even as they didn’t move closer. The spell was broken when Mateo placed his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder.
Dimitri pushed away from her, taking Mateo’s place beside the bed as her other lover took over.
Mateo was naked, erect, and very ready for the next part.
After the prolonged foreplay of the previous evening, Cecilia nearly sighed with relief, grateful that they were simply getting down to business this time.
She’d spent the majority of the day fluctuating between annoyed and aroused. The hours had taken their toll, physically and emotionally. She needed some sort of release or she was bound to blow.
Cecilia lifted her legs, wrapping her ankles around his waist, so she could draw him closer.
Mateo locked his bent knees in place, her attempts to budge him failing.
“Come inside me,” she said, managing to soften her demand as she spoke it.
He shook his head. “No, mi cielito. Not yet.”
“What does that mean? Mi cielito?” Dimitri asked, drawing their attention to him. Like Mateo, he’d shed his clothing, standing next to them, naked and very erect.
“Sweetheart,” she and Mateo said in unison.
“Mi cielito,” Dimitri repeated, the Spanish sounding too harsh in his Ukrainian accent to be a term of endearment.
Mateo moved to her right side, pulling her closer to him so there was room for Dimitri on her left.
Tucked between them, Cecilia relished the warmth, the sense of being completely surrounded. This was, by far, the most intimate she’d felt with them, despite all they had done.
After they’d reached completion last night, Mateo and Dimitri had both retired to other rooms, leaving her alone in the bed.
At the time, she’d been too sated and lost in post-orgasmic bliss to care, but now that she was here with them, she realized they’d deprived her of something just as magic
al as the pleasure that had been so intense she’d thought she’d spontaneously combust.
Mateo’s hand gently stroked the hills and valley of her breasts, his fingers caressing, adoring.
Dimitri ventured lower, toying with her clit, alternating between applying pressure and pinching the sensitive nub.
Her lovers were so different, yet both had a way of weaving a web of pleasure so passionate, she wanted to get lost in it.
She lay on her back between them, both men on their sides, facing her, facing each other.
Cecilia considered everything that had happened at Craigencross House. They’d gone into the training facility looking for a traitor. What they’d discovered there seemed to put them further away from achieving that goal rather than closer.
Mateo was dismissing any suspect he didn’t agree with, while Dimitri had moved away from accusing their lover of failing in his duties, to accusing him of being the villain himself.
Both men were blind, reacting instinctually rather than looking at the facts with an unemotional, intellectual eye. There was no place for “gut feelings” in an investigation of this sort. It was why the librarians were vital to this search.
Cecilia didn’t know who the traitor could be, but it was plain to see that whoever it was, they were framing Mateo for the crime. Everything had been put into place too neatly, too perfectly.
As such, Cecilia believed their task had grown more important. Because they weren’t just searching for a traitor. They were fighting to clear Mateo’s name.
“You aren’t the traitor,” she whispered. Her assertion, coming in the midst of their foreplay, obviously caught them both off guard, their hands stilling.
“No. I’m not,” Mateo said, his brow creased in confusion.
Cecilia’s gaze turned to Dimitri. “He’s not the traitor.”
Their lover didn’t reply, not with words, a gesture or even an expression. His features were so emotionless, he could have been carved from stone.
“Say it, Dimitri,” she demanded, though her voice was soft, little more than a whisper.
Dimitri scowled. “Cece—” he started.
