by Mari Carr
Dimitri grabbed her hands, jerking her back. “Find the control!” he shouted to Mateo.
“What’s happening?” Cecilia asked.
“He’s being electrocuted.”
Derrick’s body jerked roughly; his bowels released.
Mateo dashed around the room. “There’s nothing.”
His former friend’s body slumped but didn’t stop twitching.
“There’s nothing!” Mateo snarled, still searching desperately. If Derrick died, they’d never find the answers they were seeking.
“The woman!” Cecilia yelled. “She must have it.”
“Dammit.” Dimitri spun on his heel, racing for the door. “She’s part of this.”
Mateo started to ask how, but Dimitri was gone. Cecilia and Mateo followed him, watching when he grabbed the first club Dom he saw.
“Where is the woman who was in that room?”
The Dom glanced the direction Dimitri was pointing. “In the private room?”
“Tak,” he said impatiently, before translating to English. “Yes!”
“Mistress Alicia left a few minutes ago.”
“Alicia who?” Dimitri demanded. “She broke club rules. Abused her sub.”
That seemed to be some sort of magic code, because the Dom looked shocked and pissed, whereas before he’d seemed reluctant to answer.
“Derrick is hurt? His top is Alicia Rutherford.”
“Alicia…” Mateo felt ill.
The club Dom looked to him. “She’s American, not a regular, comes to play here when she’s in London on business.”
“A.R.,” Cecilia whispered.
“She killed her sub,” Dimitri told the club Dom, whose eyes widened in shock.
Mateo whirled and headed back to his friend.
“What? Killed?” Mateo heard the club Dom saying.
“Inform your boss,” Dimitri commanded loudly.
Mateo knew when they raced back into the room, not because he could hear them, but because he could feel them.
Mateo released Derrick, lowering him to the floor and started doing CPR.
“You shouldn’t touch him,” Dimitri said in Catalan.
“I couldn’t just leave him hanging there,” Mateo panted as he did chest compressions.
“The current could still be active.”
“It’s not.” Mateo sealed his mouth over Derrick’s.
“The collar?” Cecilia asked. “Is that what killed him?”
Around them, people were filling the room, exclamations of dismay and a few muffled sobs masking the sound of their lower conversation.
“Low voltage kills,” Dimitri said. “Mateo, stop. You can’t help him.”
“You don’t know that,” he panted.
“I do. A collar like that wouldn’t have been able to deliver a high enough voltage for him to be revived. Over 200 milliamps and you can restart the heart, but there are no burns on him, and there would be if it was that high. This was a low-voltage shock. Meant to kill.”
Mateo sat back, breathing hard.
A woman in a rope dress pushed forward, dropped to her knees, and took over.
Dimitri grabbed Mateo and pulled him back, letting the crowd fill in the space around Derrick’s body.
“Maybe…” Mateo started.
“No. That collar must have been modified. Normally electro play is only 10 milliamps. If it had been tampered with to deliver 100, 150 milliamps… I’m sorry. It stopped his heart.”
“We should leave,” Cecilia murmured. “There are too many people here. The authorities will arrive and they’ll have questions.”
“She’s right.” Dimitri still had his hand wrapped around Mateo’s upper arm and used the hold to force Mateo back. “Where’s the phone?”
Cecilia looked around, but too many people had come into the room. “I dropped it when he started convulsing.”
“Find it,” Dimitri said, pushing several people aside until he found it. Someone had stepped on it, the screen smashed. “Dammit.”
“We need to report this to the fleet admiral,” Cecilia said. “He confessed.”
“And without that video, we were the only ones who heard it,” Mateo said.
They looked at one another, each seeming to realize exactly how badly this had gone, and what the ramifications would be at the same time.
Cecilia looked distressed, but only for a moment. “Come on.” She hooked her arms with each of theirs, propelling them toward the exit. “I know someone who will help us.”
17
Mateo paced the waiting room, trying to figure out some way to convince Cecilia this meeting was a mistake. His head was pounding, the pain between his temples the result of no sleep and too much stress.
To make matters worse, he couldn’t shake the image of the construction barriers they’d just passed in the hallway, blocking off the staircase that led to the floor above, to the large conference room where his father had been gunned down by the American sniper as Mateo had been across the Channel, reeling over his failure to protect Kacper.
He’d failed more than just the fleet admiral that day. His father had died in this building without him, his last parent struck down, Mateo helpless to save him.
Mateo rubbed his brow, trying to drive that dark feeling away. There wasn’t room for that now. He needed to get a grip, to be ready to answer the admiral’s questions. His life depended on it.
After leaving Red last night, Cecilia had made a call to her cousin, James, who’d met her at a small café near Piccadilly Square to retrieve the destroyed phone. He’d called this morning and set up this meeting with Arthur today. He hadn’t mentioned whether or not they could retrieve the video from the phone.
The three of them had returned to the hotel last night, but neither he nor Dimitri had slept easily. Dimitri had gotten up every hour on the hour, peeking out the window. Mateo wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it had added to his own anxiety.
Cecilia had been restless as well, but Mateo wasn’t sure why. She’d seemed soothed after speaking to her cousin, and it was evident she didn’t think they were in any danger where the Masters’ Admiralty was concerned.
Mateo didn’t share her confidence. Their traitor was dead and their only evidence of his misdeeds was a confession only the three of them had heard if the video couldn’t be retrieved. Given that Dimitri had broken him out of the dungeon, and he and Cecilia had gone on the run with him, they weren’t exactly reliable sources.
There was a very good chance the fleet admiral would assume they were lying to protect Mateo.
Cecilia insisted the fact that they’d discovered the name of the third member of Manon’s affair would save them. Mateo wasn’t sure that was enough. He’d wanted to go after Alicia Rutherford, try to find her, but Dimitri insisted that would be a waste of time and energy. For some reason, Dimitri was convinced that Alicia had been long gone the moment she’d flipped the switch on the bondage collar that had killed Derrick.
Derrick. His best friend.
A traitor.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he murmured again. Arthur had instructed the three of them to report to his office this afternoon, and Cecilia, the lovely, trusting woman, had agreed.
Cecilia was sitting in a brown leather chair, casually flipping through a magazine. Only the constant bobbing of her foot gave away her own nervousness. “We’re fine. James would never put us in a dangerous situation.”
Dimitri had been quiet since they’d left Red last night, and all damn day. Cecilia’s confidence in their safety was only slightly less annoying than Dimitri’s silence.
“Dimitri,” Mateo said, repeating the name twice more before Dimitri even heard him.
“What?”
“What is wrong with you? I was telling Cece I think we should leave.”
Dimitri rubbed his neck. “I think you’re right.”
Cecilia looked up in surprise. “Et tu, Brute? We’re not in danger,” she paused before adding, “from
Arthur.”
Mateo noticed the bounce in her foot was faster now. If the threat wasn’t from Arthur or Eric, who…
Him.
Her nervousness wasn’t based on what the Masters’ Admiralty would do to them. She was worried about what would happen to their trinity. What Mateo would do to the three of them.
He had been so wrapped up in his concern about their evidence not being enough to clear him, he’d stopped considering what would happen if it was. The trinity would be dissolved. He would go back to his position as head of the Spartan Guard.
“It’s not the admiral I’m worried about,” Dimitri said, shaking his head. “I need to talk to the two of you about something. There’s something I need to tell you bef—”
Before he could finish, Arthur’s office door opened. A man wearing a trim suit with a regimental tie and a sword at his waist stood there. One of England’s knights. Mateo remembered him. He’d been in that hotel room when they’d confronted Manon.
Cool, assessing eyes swept over them.
Mateo walked forward, holding out his right hand. “Percy. It’s good to see you again.”
Percy nodded, but didn’t shake. Vaguely, Mateo remembered something about the knights not shaking hands with someone they didn’t trust because it meant their sword hand was engaged.
Percy didn’t trust him. Fuck.
“The admiral will see you.” Percy stepped back and to the side, clearing the doorway.
Mateo waited until Dimitri and Cecilia were at his back before passing into the room. Then he stopped, Dimitri stepping up on his right, Cecilia on his left.
The admiral of England stood when they entered. “Have a seat.”
Where most offices had one or maybe two visitor chairs on the other side the desk, it seemed the three chairs that had been here last time Mateo was in the office were permanent fixtures. Probably because Arthur had meetings with other trinities.
One way or another, they were never going to be a trinity. Either he was going to be branded a traitor and punished, or he would be cleared and return to the Isle of Man.
Alone.
Cecilia crossed the office, heading for the waiting chairs. Neither Mateo nor Dimitri moved.
She turned, and Mateo recognized the fear in her eyes.
“Cece,” he said, wishing he could comfort her.
Arthur cleared his throat.
Mateo and Dimitri followed Cecilia to their seats, the three of them claiming the exact same seats they’d been in a week earlier.
Mateo couldn’t believe it had only been one week. It felt as if they’d lived a lifetime together since then.
Arthur leaned back in his leather desk chair. “James said you discovered the name of the traitor.”
“Yes,” Cecilia said, nodding. “It was Derrick Frederick.”
“And your proof?” Arthur’s tone was cool. He looked like some gallant knight from a cartoon fairy tale—gold hair and handsome features. The sling that held the stump of his arm close to his chest didn’t detract from his appearance. Instead, it gave him the air of a wounded hero.
Mateo remembered him when he’d been a knight. He’d been quiet, disciplined and utterly devoted to his duties. He was different now, maybe even different than he’d been when they saw him last week. It was as if becoming the admiral was hardening him a little more each day.
“He confessed,” she said.
Arthur’s expression barely changed. A slight frown made a line between his eyebrows. “To whom?”
It was just as Mateo suspected. He didn’t ask about the confession, he asked who’d heard the confession. The Masters’ Admiralty would never take their word for it without that recording.
“To us.” Cecilia’s response was sure, strong. Their lovely woman wasn’t cowed by Arthur’s questioning.
“James said he’s dead.”
“Yes,” Mateo responded. “We found him in a sex club here in London. Red. He was bound, and his Domme had placed an electrical collar around his neck.”
“I’ve seen the police report regarding what happened at the club. Nothing happens to a member of my territory that I don’t know about immediately. And though he was a member of the Spartan Guard, Derrick was first and foremost from England. I didn’t see any mention of the three of you in the report, however.”
“We didn’t stick around to give a statement,” Dimitri said drolly.
Arthur paused, scowling briefly. Rather than call Dimitri out, he continued his line of questioning. “What, exactly, did Derrick confess to?”
“He was the one tainting the medicine that was given to Kacper. Apparently, he’s quite clever in chemistry.” Cecilia took the lead in sharing what they’d discovered. Mateo was grateful for that. Her tone and posture left no doubt she believed they’d accomplished the task they had been assigned.
And while Mateo prayed that was true, he wasn’t sure that would be a blessing. Because that outcome forced him to make a choice.
“He also recruited the drone operator,” Cecilia continued. “Apparently, Derrick’s lineage dates all the way back to the original Manx guards, who were replaced by the current Spartan Guards. He seemed to feel he had some sort of birthright that made him better suited to lead the guards than Mateo. I have some, er, friends checking out that claim, doing some research into Derrick’s family tree.”
Arthur didn’t seem surprised by that piece of information. In fact, Mateo thought it felt as if a lot of what they were telling him had already been relayed to him. Mateo had been too preoccupied by Derrick’s murder last night to pay much attention to Cecilia. All he could recall was that she’d left the hotel to give the phone to James. She also mentioned contacting a few other friends who could help. He hadn’t had the presence of mind to question her about that at the time.
“Did he mention the Domino? Did he confirm the villain was Manon?” Arthur asked.
Cecilia shook her head. “No. He was electrocuted before he could say anything more.”
Arthur rubbed his chin with his one good hand. “By the Domme?”
Cecilia nodded. “Yes.”
“Why were you at Red?”
Dimitri reached into the duffel he’d been carrying and pulled out the whip. “Because of this. We found it in the stables of a rental property just outside Triskelion Castle. We believe it was where Manon met her lovers.”
Arthur picked up the whip, examining the handle, cord, and then the tag. “I can determine who G.R. and M.K. are, but A.R.?”
“Alicia Rutherford,” Cecilia said. “The club Dom said she was American, and we’re assuming she’s related to Griffin Rutherford. Wife, sister, something like that.”
For the first time since they’d entered the room, Arthur showed a real spark of interest. Picking up a pen, he awkwardly jotted down the name with his left hand. The pad of paper he wrote on was held in place by a large paperweight in one corner. The briefest hint of either frustration or grief crossed his face as he finished the note, but then his expression returned to neutral and he pushed a button on his phone. “Lorelei.”
“What do you want?”
“I have guests with me.”
“Same question.”
Cecilia looked a little scandalized by the woman’s tone and glanced at Mateo and Dimitri.
Mateo had met Lorelei. He wasn’t surprised by her tone. Only a very stupid person tried the oh-so-limited patience of the vice admiral of England.
“I need you to run a name for me. Alicia Rutherford. American. Get me everything you can find—”
There was a click as she disconnected.
“—immediately,” Arthur finished with a sigh. He looked at Dimitri. “Where is Alicia now?”
Dimitri held still, but Mateo couldn’t help but shift his weight in discomfort at the answer they would have to give. Beside him, Cecilia was making a face.
“We didn’t realize who she was.” Dimitri’s accent gave his words a clipped authority. “Our primary objective was to question De
rrick. She left the room…with the remote to the collar. I can only assume she was listening at the door. When it was obvious Derrick was about to say more than he should, she triggered the collar. It had been rigged to deliver a low voltage that would have stopped his heart almost instantly. By the time we realized it was her, she was gone.”
Arthur sat perfectly still, his gaze focused in middle distance. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and measured. “You found Derrick in a compromising position, and let his companion leave without speaking to or questioning her.”
“Yes,” Dimitri agreed, with a hint of defensiveness.
“She murdered Derrick while you were in the room with him, and by the time you thought to look for her, she was gone.”
“Yes.” Dimitri was practically smiling.
“We can go after her,” Mateo suggested a bit desperately. “Give us more time and we’ll find her, bring her back here to you.”
Arthur shook his head. “No. Your part in this investigation is done. You were asked to find the traitor in the guard and you did.”
Mateo’s lungs seized. “You believe me.”
Arthur frowned. “Of course I do.”
Mateo wanted to slump in relief. The feeling was short-lived. Just because Arthur believed him didn’t mean others would. He and Arthur had forged a bond during the op that had led them to Manon and the American sniper. Mateo had felt a kinship with the admiral of England, but he didn’t share that same comrades-in-arms bond with Eric Ericsson. “Will the fleet admiral believe me?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Arthur swiveled in his chair
A narrow door, which Mateo had assumed was to a closet, opened.
Eric Ericsson walked into the room.
Mateo hadn’t spent much time with the man, and the last time he’d seen him, he’d been injured, so he was struck again by just how big he was. Like Arthur, Eric was blond, but while Arthur looked like a romantic hero, Eric looked like a barbarian, like a Viking. The Viking. The nickname was more than fitting. It wasn’t hard to imagine him wielding a club or massive sword, his face streaked in mud, blood, or both, with his lips pulled back in a berserker’s smile.
