Fiery Surrender

by Mari Carr

  “Really? Because you didn’t sound like it when you came back from Boston pissed off that you’d been forced to marry these two.”

  Langston stormed across the barn and reached for his brother. Oscar’s eyes went wide a second before Langston’s hand closed on his shirt. He frog-marched his brother toward the door and shoved him out into the night. A second before he slammed the door, Oscar reached in and hauled him outside with him.

  Oscar reached back and grabbed the door, pulling it fully closed behind them, then grabbed Langston’s shoulders. “Brother, are you okay?”

  Gone was the grumpy computer expert that Oscar presented to the outside world.

  “I need to go back inside,” Langston said softly.

  “To your wife…and husband.”

  Langston took a deep breath, then blew it out. “Yes.”

  “You were working under the hood. What’s going on?”

  Langston closed his eyes. “Don’t ask me that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t tell you.” The words fell heavy between them, and Oscar’s hands dropped from Langston’s shoulders.

  “You’re there now, man? All in?” Oscar asked. He was trying for a sneer, but Langston heard the hurt in his brother’s words.

  “I want to be part of something bigger than us, than this.” He gestured around them.

  “Too good to be from the south all of a sudden? You sound like an ass,” Oscar shot back.

  “And you sound like a grumpy old dick,” Langston snarled in reply.

  Oscar stopped and shook his head. “Fuck you. Now I’m picturing a wrinkly old penis.”

  Langston’s anger melted away, and he chuckled. His brothers could piss him off faster than anyone else on this Earth, but it was hard to stay mad at them, especially Oscar, whom he’d seen almost every day for years.

  “You be safe, brother,” Oscar said softly. “They seem…nice?”

  “Don’t hurt yourself with the compliments.”

  Oscar snorted and grabbed him in a one-arm hug. “I’m always gonna worry about you.”

  Langston closed his eyes and squeezed Oscar tight. Damn it. This was his brother. Every stupid or dangerous thing he’d ever done, he’d had at least one of his brothers at his back. Now he was helping to hunt down an insane bomb maker, and his “backup” was Mina, the prosecutor, and Rich, whose money wouldn’t protect them from getting blown up.

  “I need you to find anything you can on bombs made using batteries, an electric blasting cap, and collagen-based glue,” Langston whispered to his brother.

  Oscar cursed and jerked out of the hug. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “Time frame?”

  “I don’t know. Start with a year?”

  “Location?”

  “The world.”

  “The whole fucking world? Goddamn it. I knew something was going on. That’s why you were in Italy. Sylvia safe?”

  Langston nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I think so.”

  Oscar looked grumpy—that was usual—but there was a new light in his eyes. There was nothing his brother loved better than finding and gathering information. It was as if other people keeping secrets was a personal affront to Oscar, and when his siblings were in danger? It was game fucking on.

  “Gotta go.” Langston smiled at his brother and turned to walk back into the barn.

  “Hey, wait. Have you had a dick in your butt yet?” Oscar called out.

  Langston flipped him the bird without turning.

  Stupid brothers…

  He opened the door and nearly collided with Rich and Mina, who were standing at the foot of the stairs. Mina had her purse on her shoulder, and Rich was carrying his jacket and Langston’s backpack.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We need to go,” Rich said.

  “Where?”

  “A Trinity Masters’ house in Charleston. Grand Master’s orders, since there isn’t a Trinity-friendly hotel in the city.”

  “Why do we have to go there?” Langston asked.

  Mina explained. “Because this is still technically our honeymoon. Members don’t go home during their honeymoon.”

  “I told her we wouldn’t be able to go there until you’d done your research, but now that you have, we can’t ignore her orders,” Rich added.

  “Wait, is this the house where Franco got shot?” Langston had been to the place before. It was where he’d been introduced to the world of the Trinity Masters, and where he’d survived a firefight.

  Rich smiled and exchanged a glance with Mina, who looked equally amused. “The Grand Master told me to tell you all the windows are now bulletproof,” Rich explained.

  Langston opened his mouth to argue, but Mina reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Langston, you said you don’t know much about the rules of the society. We do. Here’s the first lesson. When the Grand Master tells you to do something, you do it. It doesn’t matter if you know who the Grand Master is. It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree.”

  Langston nodded once, acknowledging that he’d heard her.

  Even though everything in him rebelled at that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “That’s where the RiverDogs play. My dad used to take me and my brothers to the games when we were kids.” Langston had been playing tour guide for the last hour after Mina requested he show them around Charleston. While Rich had traveled to the city several times for business, Mina had never been, and he was touched by her desire to know more about where he grew up.

  After they’d moved to the Trinity Masters’ house—and Langston had checked the windows and other security upgrades, the memory of seeing Franco getting shot too fresh to allow him to just take the Grand Master’s word for it—all three of them had fallen into bed. The nap hadn’t been enough to refresh them, and when they reached the house, they were too jetlagged to do more than strip off their shoes and jeans and crawl under the covers together.

  It occurred to Langston that sleeping with Mina and Rich was actually starting to feel somewhat normal…and nice.

  If he could find five minutes to himself, he might let himself figure out what that meant, but for right now, he was just riding with the current. He didn’t have the time or energy to do anything else.

  “You play ball?” Rich asked him, glancing over at the baseball stadium.

  Langston shook his head. “No. My poor dad is a huge sports fan. All sports, so when he had three sons, I’m pretty sure he was thrilled, picturing a future filled with Little League, high school football games, crap like that.”

  Mina laughed. “Well, I’ve met you and Oscar, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say…he didn’t get that?”

  Langston gave her a rueful grin. “Nope. Instead, he found himself saddled with triplet nerds—only interested in building skyscrapers with Legos, playing video games, and trying to blow stuff up with our chemistry sets. I think by the time we hit high school, he’d accepted he was never going to have a jock son to brag about, so he took a lot of pride in telling all his buddies about his brilliant sons and how they took first place in the science fair year after year.”

  “Sounds like a great dad,” Mina said.

  As they saw more and more of the city, Rich and Mina both asking questions, genuinely interested in knowing all about him, some of the insecurity he’d felt back at the barn faded away.

  “Oh yeah. Mama and Dad are the best. They’ve always encouraged us, supported us.” Langston looked over at Rich. “You strike me as the jock type. Let me guess. Football?”

  Rich gave him a wide grin that said he’d hit the nail right on the head. “Quarterback of my high school team all four years. Took my team to state my junior and senior years. Though I suspect I wouldn’t have been that big a dog if I’d been playing ball in Texas rather than at boarding school. Don’t ever come between a Texan and their high school football because shit will get real—real quick.”

  “Didn’t keep playing in college?” Langston as
ked.

  Rich lifted one shoulder. “I was recruited by several Division 1 schools, but your father and mine differ on their opinions of sports. My love of football was tolerated in high school as yet another thing to add to my resume when applying to Ivy League schools, but it was made very clear to me that I was going to college for an education, not to play sports.”

  “Didn’t that bother you?” Mina asked the question before Langston could.

  Rich shook his head, giving them what felt like a very practiced response. “I’ve been aware of the expectations my father, my family, had for me since I was old enough to understand the words, ‘narrow dreams are for lesser people.’ It is the Blake birthright to study hard, to be the best at everything, and to settle for nothing less than perfection. My legacy is to carry on my family’s name, and that meant graduating from an Ivy League school at the top of my class and earning my place in the Trinity Masters.”

  He was perfectly composed as he spoke, looking at the lovely buildings around them. “Once I’d done that—and I honestly don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been offered membership—my job was to continue to build the family’s wealth while also being an innovative leader.” There was a brief pause. “And then to raise my children to do the same damn thing.”

  “Damn thing?” Mina repeated, clearly picking up on the word that gave him away, that revealed his true feelings.

  Rich turned around in the passenger seat to face her. “Darlin’, I’m only telling you what was expected of me.” He sighed. “Truth is, I was pissed as hell when my dad forbade me to sign with Brown to play. I’m not cocky enough to think I was good enough for the NFL, but I would have loved to steal a few more years on the gridiron. He might have taken me out of Texas for most of my childhood, but he sure as hell didn’t kill the part of me that lived for that game. Damn, I loved playing football.”

  Mina reached over the backseat and placed a comforting hand on Rich’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You know, I’ve never admitted that to anyone.”

  “I’m glad you told us,” she said softly.

  “Quarterback, huh? That’s the guy who makes all the calls on the field, runs the show, right?” Langston gave the other man a shit-eating grin. “I’d say you’ve found other ways to satisfy that control-freak nature of yours.”

  Rich laughed loudly, the heaviness of the previous moment gone. “I’m a top because I like making sure everyone is satisfied.”

  “You like being in charge,” Langston countered. “And I allowed it because I hadn’t had a ménage. Now that I know what’s going on…”

  Rich slapped Langston on the shoulder. “You think you can satisfy everyone?”

  “You’ll hear no complaints from the backseat. I’m a big fan of the he-man approach in bed. If you two want to fight over who gets to pleasure me…that’s sexy.” Mina caught Langston’s eyes in the rearview mirror and winked at him.

  Rich snorted. “You would make a terrible submissive.”

  “False. I’d be a great sexual submissive as long as you did exactly what I wanted.”

  “Darlin’, you are something else,” Rich said with a chuckle.

  “So what about you, Mina?” Langston asked. “Were you a jock or nerd in high school?”

  “I was both. Captain of the debate team and state record holder on the swim team. Like I said, I’m good at everything,” she teased. Langston noticed the no-nonsense lawyer disappeared a little bit more each day they spent together, replaced by this sexy, witty woman who held back nothing.

  Rich fake-coughed the word, “Overachiever.”

  “Y’all feel like dinner?” Langston asked, spying one of his favorite restaurants. They’d missed breakfast and lunch, simply snacking on some peanut butter and crackers they’d found at the house when they first woke up.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” Rich said.

  “This is Charleston, man. Not horses.” Langston pointed. “Oysters.”

  Rich spotted the restaurant and nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

  Mina laughed. “I’m pretty sure oysters are the last thing we need, but I’m game.”

  Langston parked the car outside Pearl’s Oyster Bar. It was early, only four thirty, so apart from the early bird crowd, the place was pretty quiet. They ordered a dozen house oysters as a starter, partnering it with flights of craft beer.

  The conversation that flowed easily in the car continued at the table, and it felt more like that first dinner together in Italy. Langston suddenly understood why newly formed trinities were instructed to spend a month together after their binding ceremony in this unusual but cool-as-fuck honeymoon period.

  “And your sister, Sylvia, is a poet?” Rich asked.

  “And an artist,” Langston added. “She’s not a starving one, either. That kid sister of mine is amazing.”

  Langston could talk about his family all day long. He’d already told them about Walt’s work with Doctors Without Borders, and some of Oscar’s work, though after what Oscar had said to Rich, he tried to limit himself to funny anecdotes about that brother.

  “I’m surprised the Grand Master let her join the Masters’ Admiralty,” Mina mused when the conversation circled back to Sylvia. “It seems to me that as an American citizen who was on the short list to be recruited to—”

  “I’m not sure there was anything Juliette could do or say to stop Sylvia once she’d met Hugo and Lancelot. My sister fell hard and fast. Plus, Eric was pretty much offering all of us carte blanche to join the Masters’ Admiralty, which pissed off the Grand Master. That’s why Juliette—”

  Langston stopped himself before mentioning once again that he was certain Juliette had fast-tracked him to marriage to ensure he didn’t defect. That went over like a lead balloon on the flight to Italy, and he wasn’t about to step back into that shit again.

  Instead, he said, “That’s why she’s so anxious for Oscar and Walt to join.”

  Mina and Rich exchanged a glance, and Langston could tell they knew exactly what he’d intended to say, but he didn’t give them too long to think about it, to remember what a jackass he’d made of himself at the binding ceremony.

  “And while I’m pretty sure she’ll get Walt, I don’t think either society is ever going to get Oscar to join. He’s married to his work and…not exactly a people person.”

  Mina feigned a shocked look. “That sweet, gentle soul?” she joked.

  Oscar sucked at first impressions. Hell, he sucked at second and third and three-thousandth impressions, too.

  They ordered dinner and more beer and by the time the meal was over, they’d stuffed themselves on oysters and great seafood, and even though it wasn’t quite seven o’clock, they were more than ready to head back to the house…and bed.

  Not because they were tired, but because…well…oysters.

  Mina had started playing footsie with both him and Rich under the table, speaking almost entirely in sexual innuendos throughout dessert. “Try some of my cream. I mean this Chantilly cream on my dessert. Watch out, this might be a little too hot for you to handle. Use your tongue first…”

  They were quiet on the ride home, the first substantial silence between the three of them all day. But it wasn’t an awkward one. Langston was lost in thought about what was going to happen when they got back to the bedroom.

  He, Rich, and Mina had slept together several nights, but they’d only had sex twice—the marathon sessions in Italy. Which seemed incredible now that he thought about it because those two times had felt…earth-shattering…life-changing.

  While they’d focused on Mina both times, Rich hadn’t tiptoed around Langston’s presence. Langston would have preferred the two of them to remain on opposite sides of the bed, using Mia as a buffer between them. There had been none of that.

  The man had touched him, sometimes accidental glances, sometimes intentional strokes—and Langston had liked it. More than he would have thou
ght.

  He pulled down the long, winding driveway and parked right in front of the house. Rich had opened her door and taken Mina’s hand as she climbed out of the car. Langston put the code in the front door lock and the three of them entered the dark house.

  “Let me get the lights,” Rich said, feeling around for the switch. He found it, and the large front parlor was illuminated in bright white light.

  Langston hadn’t really noticed much about the house the first time he’d been here months ago. He’d been too focused on keeping his sister safe and blindsided by the revelation that there were secret societies ruling the world. Well, that and the fact Sylvia was sleeping with two guys, and there was a crazy woman outside shooting up the house.

  The Trinity Masters used this as a safe house from time to time, which in his mind, implied a small, nondescript building. It probably would have been more accurate to call this house an estate. It had a large front parlor, gigantic chef’s kitchen, and well-appointed bedrooms—all of which were furnished with extra-large Alaskan king-size beds, antique furniture, and an elegant decor that was about as opposite from the homemade, farm-style chic of his renovated barn as possible. Each bedroom even had its own en suite bathroom.

  And, as Juliette had mentioned, the windows were now three-inch thick, triple-paned bulletproof glass. It would take cannon artillery to bust through those. He’d repressed the urge to try to blow out one of the windows. He’d never tried an explosive on bulletproof glass. Would the glass give way, or would the shock waves destroy the frame?

  “I saw a few bottles of red in the wine cellar,” Mina said. “I can grab one and some glasses if you’d like.”

  Rich shook his head, reclaiming her hand, dragging her down the hallway toward the stairs to the bedroom on the second floor that they’d chosen. There were six bedrooms in total in the house, four up and two down. Despite that, and by tacit agreement, they’d all thrown their luggage into the largest of the upstairs rooms and crawled into bed together this morning as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “No. There’s no time for that. Langston, lock up and follow us. I want both of you naked and in bed in the next three minutes.”