by Mari Carr
Like everything in the suite, it was a large shower, with plenty of room for three. It had two corner benches and a half dozen showerheads, all pulsing with gloriously hot water.
She sighed as it sluiced down her chilled body, but she still felt cold.
So fucking cold.
Langston and Rich quickly disrobed. Rich entered the shower first, pressing her forward a bit, so that he could stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her back to his chest, his large body surrounding her.
Langston climbed in next, facing them.
None of them spoke as Rich and Langston took turns cleaning her. Langston shampooed her hair, slowly massaging her head, then helping her rinse the suds out. Rich reached for a loofah, using it to rub the sweet-smelling shower gel over her body. His touches were gentle and loving.
She turned her face toward the water, lifting it against the jets, letting it wash away the last of her tears.
“I’m alive,” she said, more to herself than to them. She needed to hear the words, needed to feel the veracity of them.
“You’re alive,” Langston repeated.
“And you’re ours. Ours,” Rich added. Before hotly saying, “Never again, Mina. I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”
She laughed, and this time, the humor stuck. “Wow. That took a dark turn.”
Langston barked out a loud laugh. “It really did. Jesus, man. Dial it back a notch or twenty.”
Rich, God bless the man, laughed as well. The humor was brief though. “Dammit. I mean it. I can’t live through another day like today. I just…can’t.”
Mina wrapped her arms around his waist. “I can’t either. Honestly, right now, in this moment, I’d happily agree to spend every single second of the rest of my life standing right beside the two of you. I’m struggling to…” Mina closed her eyes, fighting for a way to describe her fears, to express just how much they’d come to mean to her. She knew they hadn’t been a trinity for long, and her logical mind tried to be reasonable, tried to tell her that her feelings weren’t rational, that they were overblown right now, driven by a traumatic event.
But her heart didn’t agree.
She blew out a long, steady breath. “I love you. Both of you,” she whispered. “So very, very much.”
Rich didn’t respond. Instead, he bent his head and kissed her, let her know he felt the same without words.
When Rich released her, Langston was there, turning her so that he could offer her the same—kisses filled with deep, beautiful emotion.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, didn’t trust you,” she said. “That I jumped into the water.”
Langston, the dear, kind man, gave her a friendly wink. “Don’t blame you a bit. What you did, Mina…jumping into the harbor…that was the bravest, most selfless thing I’ve ever seen. You were willing to risk your life to save the others on that wharf. If I hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you before, that would have sealed the deal for sure.”
“It didn’t feel brave,” she said.
“You were amazing,” Rich said, placing a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. “The way you disarmed that bomb. Wonder Woman.”
Mina tilted her head to the side as Rich’s lips traveled along her neck. “I can’t…think about it anymore. Make it go away,” she begged.
Langston turned off the water. Reaching out, he grabbed a thick, plush towel, drying Mina off. She tucked the soft cloth around her, stepping out of the shower as Rich and Langston toweled themselves off.
The three of them walked to the bedroom in silence, dropping the towels to the floor before crawling beneath the thick duvet. Rich and Langston flanked her, and for the first time since she’d emerged from the icy harbor water, she felt warm again.
Langston ran a hand over her arm before moving inward, cupping one of her breasts. “Mina, if you’re tired, if you want—”
“Make love to me,” she said. “I need you both inside me, need to feel…alive.”
Rich didn’t need to be asked twice. It was one of the things Mina loved most about her no-holds-barred Texan husband. She asked and he gave, completely.
He kissed her, a long, deep, passionate kiss. Mina felt Langston’s gaze on them, watching.
She’d never considered herself an exhibitionist, but she loved knowing she could turn one husband on visually, while being with the other physically.
Rich broke off the kiss, reaching out to grip the back of Langston’s neck. Mina lay beneath them, between them, watching the almost-brutal, hard kiss her husbands shared. When they parted, Langston’s hand drifted to her pussy.
He pressed three fingers in, and Mina was slightly surprised to discover how wet she was. Typically, she was completely in tune with her body’s needs, but right now, her emotions were overshadowing everything.
Her hips lifted, almost of their own volition, seeking more of Langston’s firm, powerful strokes. She moaned when his thumb found her clit, rubbing it just the way she loved.
Rich lowered his head, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard.
Her back arched, and she was tossed headlong into an orgasm she never saw coming. Both of her husbands continued their ministrations, drawing out her climax until she cried for mercy.
“Fuck,” she said, gasping for breath. “I’ve never come that quickly in my life.”
Rich shifted over her, kissing her again. “Mina…I need you.”
She gripped his waist, tugging him over her and groaning when her husband slid inside. She was overly sensitive, thanks to the orgasm they’d just given her, her pussy quivering in a way that was amazing, while also bordering on the edge of too much to bear.
Rich thrust in a handful of times before halting.
Mina’s eyes had been closed, but they opened when Rich stopped moving.
She saw Langston kneeling behind their husband, and she smiled. “Um, Langston,” she said. “I’m not sure Rich is familiar with this position.”
Langston grinned. “Seems like something he might want to get used to.”
Rich narrowed his eyes before turning to look over his shoulder. “You think you know what you’re doing back there?”
“I’m perfectly adept at putting pieces together, oil man.”
Mina giggled, a true, giddy giggle as she was suffused with happiness.
She was alive.
That future that had flashed before her was here with her.
She twisted toward the nightstand and pulled out the tube of lubrication they’d tucked there, and a condom.
Rich gritted his teeth, looking very much like a man about to stand before the executioner. “I’ve never been…”
“You’ll love it,” Mina assured him, lifting her head to give him a kiss. Rich took her up on the offer, deepening it.
Her view of what was happening behind Rich was concealed, so she was only aware of Langston’s progress through the sounds Rich made. Each hiss and groan told her when Langston prepared him with the lube, breached his ass with his fingers, when he hit the perfect spot.
Through it all, Rich remained buried deep within her, stretching her, but only moving when something Langston did prompted it.
Then she heard the crinkle of the condom foil, and Rich cursed.
“Dammit,” he muttered, his jaw clenched so tightly, she was surprised he wasn’t breaking teeth.
Glancing over Rich’s shoulder, she watched Langston move into position. He caught her looking. Grinning, he gave her a quick, too-pleased-with-himself wink.
And then, slowly, he claimed Rich’s ass.
Every time they came together was more beautiful than the last. Once Langston was fully seated, he paused.
Mina studied Rich’s face. “Okay.”
Rich released a long, slow breath. “Fuck, that hurts. And yet…”
She understood exactly what he was feeling. “And yet, you love it.”
“Hell, yeah.” Rich looked back toward Langst
on. “Fuck me.”
Langston rolled his eyes. “Always have to be in charge, don’t you?”
“Too much talking,” Mina chastised, lifting her hips to take Rich deeper. That one slight shift was the equivalent to a starter pistol. Langston retreated and returned, thrusting inside Rich, who found his own rhythm as he took Mina.
Though she’d asked them to make love to her, she should have known none of them would be capable of that tonight.
Too many emotions were still swirling beneath the surface, and they responded in the language they were all fluent in.
It was primal. Wild. Passionate.
Perfect.
Mina came twice more before Rich climaxed. Langston was only a handful of thrusts behind them, all of them gasping for air, their chests rising and falling rapidly as Langston pushed back, then fell to her right. Rich shifted next, collapsing to her left.
“Give me one second,” Langston said, walking to the bathroom to throw away the condom. She heard water running, and then he was back, reaching for her.
Mina rested her head on his chest, pressing several soft kisses to Langston’s pecs as Rich moved behind her, his now-soft cock lying against her ass.
“I love you,” Rich said, his lips next to her ear, his breath hot on her cheek. “Both of you. But do you think, for the love of all that is holy, we can finally get some sleep?”
Mina laughed softly, but it was short-lived as her heavy eyelids drooped, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Thirty-One
Juliette waited in the parlor of the Beacon Hill mansion she, Franco, and Devon had bought last year. The parlor was decorated with a nod both to modern aesthetic and the history of the house, which had been built in 1890. They’d bought the house for the light—it was bright and cheerful. It was situated on a corner, only a block from Beacon Street and Boston Commons and Boston Public Garden; the home was her—their—sanctuary.
And until today, she’d never brought business into their home. She and Franco had a shared office on the first floor, a room that got plenty of light, making it a marked contrast to her offices in the Trinity Masters headquarters, but they rarely worked there. Devon had a home office in a small room on the half-sunken, below-street-level ground floor, which had been renovated with state-of-the-art soundproofing and double redundancy secure connections to Langley, so he could spend more time with them in Boston, rather than at his CIA-owned apartment close to Langley.
Juliette heard the door open and composed herself. In the years since she’d become Grand Master, she’d grown into the role. It had made her harder, more ruthless. She’d been planning to upend the organization, but then her priorities had shifted to righting past wrongs. She’d done the best she could and had earned the respect of the members.
But there were still times she felt like an imposter.
“Grand Master,” Sebastian said, as he entered the parlor, two strangers at his back. “Sophia Starabba and James Rathmann, spouses of the admiral of England.”
Juliette stared at them from the shadows of her hood. There’d been a time when she’d felt ridiculous trying to keep her identity a secret, trying to hide her face. She’d come to understand that it wasn’t really about concealing her identity, it was about playing the part. She was sure both Mina and Rich, and many other legacies she’d grown up with, would recognize her by voice, if they didn’t already know that the Grand Master was a hereditary position held by the Adams family.
Today, she wore pale pink slacks and a thin black cashmere sweater with a large hood, and her favorite pair of Alexander Wang flats. The sweater had been custom-made, with some flexible boning in the seam of the hood, which made it flare out like the hood of an old-fashioned cloak.
“Grand Master,” the woman, Sophia, said.
“Sophia.” Juliette inclined her head, hating that she suddenly felt dowdy.
Sophia Starabba wore white wide-legged slacks, a gray silk blouse, and a red overcoat with an exaggerated collar and a pattern of irregular white scribbles. She’d seen that jacket, in a listicle from Milan fashion week. A Marni original.
The shoes were art deco Louboutins.
Damn it, the woman could dress.
Her husband, James, was huge, with the coloring of a Pacific Islander and laugh lines. He walked with a slight limp as he helped Sophia remove her coat, casually tossing it over the back of the couch.
Juliette was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the window. She’d chosen the spot because having the light at her back would help conceal her face. Sophia ignored the couch and instead took the armchair across from her, James sitting beside her.
“Thank you for having us in your lovely home,” Sophia said, her accent making everything sound sexy.
Juliette was going to make very sure she enunciated all her “r’s” and didn’t let any Boston slip into her voice.
“You’re welcome, though I assure you that there was no need for you to come all this way.”
“Was there not?” Sophia tipped her head to the side inquisitively.
Sebastian, still standing by the door, took the tray with a teapot, teacups, two wine bottles, and four glasses from the housekeeper. He carried it to the coffee table and set it down.
“Tea or wine? We have a lovely California red.”
“Wine, please,” Sophia said. “I am afraid tea is wasted on me. I once tried to make our husband Arthur tea, with a teabag.”
Juliette laughed. “You tried to give teabag tea to your very uptight British spouse?”
“I did, but he tried to make me coffee from a little plastic container.” Sophia held two fingers up. “So the insult was returned.”
Sebastian poured the wine and then passed it around. Sophia raised her glass first. “Cin-cin.”
Juliette raised her own glass in response, and then took a small sip before setting the glass aside.
Silence stretched between them. Sophia showed no signs of discomfort, but James shifted in his chair, and she could feel the tension coming off Sebastian.
“Did you find him?” James finally asked. “Luca?”
Sophia blinked, but otherwise didn’t react to the fact that her husband had broken first.
“No,” Juliette said slowly. “He was able to evade capture, which is…interesting, given the force we brought to bear on the search.”
“Any idea where he went?” James asked.
This time, Sophia put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Are you accusing us of something, Grand Master?”
“If I need to, in order to get the answers I want, I will accuse you. But for now, I’m just making an observation. A lone, dangerous man was able to evade us. For a few moments, this city was terrorized. Yes, it was reported as a prank, after all, they were only smoke bombs, but there were two dozen, all over the city. Setting that would be hard to do. It feels like he might have had help.”
“And we were that help?” Sophia asked.
“I think you have him. The question is, did you rescue him from us because he’s one of yours,” and you asked him to design and make the bomb, “or did you take him into custody in order to question him yourself?” Juliette kept her voice hard, the words cool and precise.
“And if the answer is neither?”
“Then you don’t have him. And neither do we. Which means we are utter fools, since he outmaneuvered us.” She left that statement deliberately ambiguous—was the “we” she was referring to just the Trinity Masters or both societies?
Sophia took a sip of her wine. Stalling for time? She set her glass down with a clink.
“There is an expression, a proverb, in Italy. Translated, it is, ‘The fool has to do at last what the wise did at first.’”
“And you are the fool?”
“In this case, yes.” Sophia reached for her glass, picked it up, then set it down again without drinking. “Grand Master, may we speak freely as…if not friends, then as…as allies, one commander to another?”
“You are not my equal,” Juliette said, but not unkindly. “Your fleet admiral is. I’ve asked you before where he is.”
“You had men on Guam. You know what he did.”
Oh yes, Sebastian had told her. Eric had ripped a man’s head off his body with his bare hands.
“The fleet admiral took an abrupt leave,” James said. “To…center himself. Get ahold of his berserker.”
Ah, now that made sense. Eric had lost it, ripped someone’s head off, and stepped back until he wasn’t in danger of doing that again.
“You are the acting fleet admiral?” Juliette asked Sophia.
“In some aspects, yes. Not all, but I speak for…as…the fleet admiral, when I offer this proposition.”
“Proposition?” Sebastian asked. “I thought we were here to talk about Luca.”
“We are, in part,” Sophia said. “Luca must be found. We told you the truth when we said that he was not a member. He was employed by us, via a society-owned company. You know bombs have been the weapon of choice of our enemies. We hired Luca to help us analyze them.”
Juliette cleared her throat, making sure to grab their attention and also warning Sebastian to watch for their reactions. “And did you ask him to design the backpack nuclear bomb?”
James’s face paled, and Sophia blinked, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I think I am tired and not translating correctly, you said…”
“The tablet contained the schematics for a small nuclear bomb. Small enough to be carried in a backpack, and large enough to take out an entire city.”
“No,” James said. “No. That’s…”
“Nuclear bomb?” Sophia breathed. She began speaking rapidly in Italian, and it wasn’t until she crossed herself that Juliette realized she was praying.
James jumped to his feet, then sat down, running his hands through his hair.
“Yeah, don’t think they knew,” Sebastian muttered.
