by Mari Carr
Juliette gave him a sideways glance. “You know something.”
“Let’s wait until we’re in the car. I think Rose and Weston should hear this too.” He took her hand, leaning toward her to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I missed you.” Then he reached over and grabbed Devon’s hand as well. “You too.”
Devon’s lips curved upwards. “We weren’t gone twenty-four hours.”
The three of them climbed into the limo. Weston and Rose had claimed the spot toward the front and nearest the driver, clearly intent on putting some distance between themselves and Juliette and Devon.
“We found something,” Franco said, as he took a seat in the middle.
Juliette was grateful for his willingness to put himself right in the line of fire. She and Devon settled on the seat at the rear of the vehicle, well out of arm’s reach of the other couple if shit should go south again. Weston was still enraged by their deception, but it was Rose’s quiet resignation that was more alarming…and concerning.
“We found something?” Devon asked. “Who is we?”
“Marek and I continued digging through the old files after the four of you left for London, searching for references to the Masters’ Admiralty. Turns out we were looking right at the answer without even realizing it.”
“What do you mean?” Devon asked.
“As you all know, Marek has family in the Masters’ Admiralty. He knows their history. It’s why I asked him to help me. Turns out they weren’t called the Masters’ Admiralty until the early eighteen hundreds. The society shifted to that from the Masters’ Empire, adopting the modern terminology in order to make it easier to shield the true nature of the organization. Prior to that, their fleet admiral was the grand emperor. Obviously, that archaic term might catch attention if ever overheard. Admiral is a perfectly innocuous term these days. Hey, that reminds me. Marek dropped something else in conversation that I think he just assumed we knew about the Masters’ Admiralty.”
Juliette knew what Franco was going to say in an instant. It was the most jarring thing she’d learned during their quick jaunt to London, which was saying something, considering the whole journey had been emotionally draining. “The Masters’ Admiralty doesn’t just exist in England. It covers most of Europe.”
Devon was looking at Weston accusatorily. Weston shrugged one shoulder casually. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t know that little tidbit either. Thought it was just Britain. They were the only ones harboring me all those years.”
Juliette and Devon had pumped Weston for information about the Masters’ Admiralty. Then they’d tried to get information out of Marek, but he’d politely declined to answer their questions, and that had been the end of that.
Franco nodded and gave her a sheepish grin. “Guess you found that out the hard way.”
Juliette had felt like a damn fool as Arthur’s haughty princess laughed at her misconception.
Devon reached over and rubbed Juliette’s neck. “We went in thinking we held enough cards to free ourselves from this threat. Turns out the threat is greater than we realized. It wasn’t a great trip.”
Franco’s face broke into a big smile. “Which brings me back to my original subject. We found a clue in one of your grandfather’s old journals. It was something I’d actually seen before, but it didn’t click as pertinent because it merely mentioned the Empire.”
Weston snorted. “Like Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back kind of stuff?”
Juliette sat up straighter as something started to click. “I know about the Empire.”
Devon glanced at her, surprised. “What do you know?”
“A poem.”
Rose rolled her eyes, but Juliette forged on. “It was something my dad used to say to me at bedtime. He made me memorize it.”
Juliette started to recite it.
* * *
Masters in Boston, we exalt on high
To carry forth the triumphant banner.
Tis not the time to retreat, nor die
But drive the Empire from their manor.
* * *
Nay will we e’er forgive British slight
Or forget the young king t’was taken.
Evil steal thy Washington birthright,
But the Trinity will ne’er be forsaken.
* * *
Juliette stopped when Franco picked up the rest of the rhyme, making it clear the poem was indeed what he’d found.
* * *
Adams will call upon the fathers,
The founders, just and true,
He will rally future sons and daughters
Of Hamilton, Jefferson, and Hancock too.
* * *
Ne’er will we forget the sins of the Caesar.
America shall rise in righteous revenge.
When the Empire returns to seize her,
Secret spies, kept from sight, our leader at last avenged.
* * *
Franco put down the page he was reading from and looked up.
Devon frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Juliette shrugged. “I have no idea. I learned it when I was young because my father insisted I memorize it. In truth, I was only eight or nine and more worried about getting the words right rather than deciphering them.”
“And your dad never explained them?” Weston asked.
Juliette shook her head. “Not sure why he would. He expected Harrison to take over after his death. I was just the backup.”
“I wonder if Harrison knows.”
Juliette shrugged. “I’ll call him when I get back to headquarters, but part of me thinks the poem had the same meaning for him. Just a silly thing our father passed on. Our father wasn’t great at sharing secrets…even with his heirs, the people who might actually need the damn information.”
“Easy, tiger,” Devon murmured. “We’ve cracked tougher codes. Let’s reason this out.”
Juliette took a deep breath and considered the lines again. “It seems to indicate that the Masters’ Admiralty wronged the Trinity Masters, stole something from George Washington.”
“Even if that’s true, the founding fathers have been dead for over two hundred years,” Devon said.
Juliette felt the first spark of hope since leaving London. “And the Nazis have been gone for decades. That’s not exactly stopping the Masters’ Admiralty from seeking reparation for the crimes of our ancestors.”
“We killed their children,” Weston said. “That’s not exactly a slight. You heard Sophia. She lost family and while they were distant relatives, they weren’t simply forgotten. They were missed.”
Juliette flipped her hair over her shoulder as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I get that. But what if they stole something just as precious from us?”
Devon frowned. “So what are you saying? We’re going to fight fire with fire? Demand the same sort of penance for an ancient slight?”
“Why not?” Juliette asked.
Devon shook his head. “You’re suggesting a poem that alludes to some past wrong is equal to the very real, and recent, crime committee by the purists. You can’t take what may amount to nothing more than a nursery rhyme back to the admiralty and call it equal to what the purists did.”
Franco leaned forward. “We don’t take the poem. We find whatever the poem is talking about and we take that.”
Devon shook his head once more. “We need to focus on a real solution, not bank on a treasure hunt.”
Juliette leaned back against the seat, looking out the window, watching the landscape change from suburb to city as they got closer to headquarters. Her mind played over her father’s adamance that she learn the poem. And Harrison knew it too. That had to mean something, had to be a clue.
“My father recited that thing for me countless times and he insisted that I pass the poem along to my children someday. He called it an important part of our heritage. Who’s to say the other founding fathers mentioned in the poem didn’t also pass thi
ngs along to their children? Adams will call upon the fathers. They’re listed for me. Three names. And it doesn’t say the actual men. It says the future sons and daughters. The ancestors. Whatever the Masters’ Admiralty did to the Trinity Masters may have been buried, but that poem was written to ensure the trail could be discovered if needed. We need to see if there are any members with ties to Hamilton, Jefferson, or…”
Rose spoke for the first time since entering the limo. “Hancock. Much as it probably pains you to admit, my family tree started with a founding father too, but I have no idea what that nursery rhyme means.”
Weston sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, but you aren’t close to your parents.”
Rose lifted her chin, clearly unhappy with the reminder even if it wasn’t something she could deny. “The Hancocks are named in the rhyme, so if they do know, maybe there’s a way I could—”
“No,” Juliette said. Rose had already given too much to this cause. As far as Juliette was concerned, Rose’s part was over. She wasn’t going to thrust her back into danger. Given the way Devon stiffened on the seat next to her, it was evident he agreed. Juliette wished that idea didn’t cause a painful pang in her heart.
“If my parents are aware of something, what makes you think they haven’t already disposed of whatever this rhyme might lead us to?”
Franco shook his head. “I’m not sure why they would do that. The secret has been buried for two centuries. I can’t imagine anyone would act on it unless it’s as the rhyme says, the Empire becomes a threat again. Besides, given the three names, it seems more likely they’ve only got a piece of the puzzle. Not the whole thing.”
Rose didn’t back down. “I’ve been working as a double agent for years. I’ll find a way to convince my parents that—”
Juliette shook her head. “You’re out of this, Rose. I have something else in mind.”
Devon looked at her and grimaced. “You’re plotting your next trinity, your next task.”
She nodded. “We just need to find ancestors of the founding fathers within the Trinity Masters. Barring that, we’ll create a threesome comprised of people in positions that might help them uncover the answers.”
Rose snorted. “Sort of taking a chance there, aren’t you? Binding a trinity together with no clue if they have or can get you the information you need.”
Juliette ignored the argument as she glanced at her husband. Franco was reaching for a thick file folder she hadn’t even noticed lying next to him on the seat. Not that she would have thought anything of it. Her historian husband didn’t go many places without a thick file of his latest fascinating pile of papers.
“Great minds think alike,” he murmured as he flipped through several sheets before finding whatever it was he was looking for. “I did a quick scan of our membership files. There are several current members who have ancestral ties to the founding fathers listed, and a couple of them would definitely have the connections to root out the meaning of this poem.”
There was a part of Juliette that felt guilty binding people together due to her need to find missing art or solve puzzles, rather than based on unions meant to strengthen society—which was the true purpose of the Trinity Masters. Of course, when she looked back over the past four bindings—her gaze drifted to Weston and Rose cuddled together on their seat—she couldn’t deny the current system was working. All four trinities were strong and brave and smart, and there was definitely love there.
Besides, if this went well, there was a good chance this would be the last trinity assigned a task. If they were able to figure out the message, perhaps it would offer them a bargaining chip they could use to extricate themselves from this current nightmare.
If she never heard the word purist again, it would be too damn soon.
Franco continued to shuffle his papers, then shook his head. “There are two members whose ancestries date back to the founding fathers—Hamilton and one with loose ties to Jefferson—who haven’t been called to the altar, and with professions that might lend themselves to this sort of wild-goose-chase.”
Juliette grinned despite the heaviness in her chest.
Devon sighed. She could tell from the sound he wasn’t pleased by this idea, but was, instead, resigned. “That still leaves us one person shy.”
Juliette shook her head slowly, certain her next words would provoke the mother of all arguments with Devon…and Rose…and Weston. Regardless, she knew what she wanted to do, and she knew there was nothing anyone in this limo could say to talk her out of it. “We only need those two.”
“What do you mean? Do you already have someone else in mind for the third?” Devon asked.
She nodded. “Caden Anderson.”
Rose nearly fell off her seat as she bolted upright. “What? No.”
Juliette stared at the woman she’d once been betrothed to, her nemesis for the better part of a year. In truth, she had expected the strongest reaction would come from Devon. Not Rose.
“It makes sense,” Juliette said. “If your parents are purists, they are running short on allies and they’ll be seeking support from someone they trust. You’re bound to Wes and Marek. Wes’ reputation for fighting against the purists isn’t going to endear you to your mom and dad. And I’m sorry, Rose, but if they haven’t taken you under their wing by now, there’s no way they’ll confide in you.”
“They’ve been trying to make amends,” Rose said hotly. “I’ll just return their damn phone call.”
“If your suspicions about them being a part of the purists are correct, they’re doing that to save face. Not because of any genuine feeling.”
Rose leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’d like to argue with that point, but I can’t.”
“However, they don’t know about Caden’s involvement with the bombing of the yacht or that he’s been,” Juliette hesitated, choosing her words with care, “under our protection these past six months.”
“That’s a nice way of describing it,” Weston said angrily. “Caden’s sacrificed enough, Juliette. Given up so many years, working as a double agent to ensure Rose and Tabitha would be safe. He’s been just as much a victim in this as Rose and I have.”
Juliette wasn’t sure she disagreed with that assessment. After all, the man had murdered his own parents—something that almost redeemed him in her eyes.
However, there was the issue of his training, of his sexual proclivities. She’d caught a glimpse of something in Rose’s eyes one time too many, something that told her Rose hadn’t been in love with Caden. Had he forced her to kneel before him the same way his fathers had as a way of controlling her, of demanding her submission?
Weston insisted that Caden had collared Rose to save her, but Rose had never said the same.
“If we bind him in a trinity, they’ll have no claim on him,” Juliette said. “They respected your trinity, so we can assume the same will apply for him.”
Devon frowned. “That’s a pretty huge assumption to make. They want him. Badly.”
“I know. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“You’ll still have to tell them he isn’t like Grant, who had an ancestor who was a purist, but isn’t one himself. Caden is one of the purists,” Devon said. “It would be easier to give him to them.”
“He’s not a purist because he’s some neo-Nazi racist,” Rose said quietly. “You forget that Caden and I have done more to thwart the purists than you have.”
Devon looked like he wanted to say something, but only nodded in reply.
“Caden kept their secrets and did their dirty work.” Juliette put steel in her words. That statement was not open for debate. “That’s why we put him in a trinity. Give him a chance to perform this task, discover something that gives us a bargaining chip to use against the Masters’ Admiralty. This would give him an opportunity to save himself, maybe right a wrong. Right now, we hold none of the cards. We have one month to turn over the names we do have—all of whom we know are inno
cent. I do not want any of those people on the Masters’ Admiralty’s radar. Well, we have their names…and Caden’s.”
“He’s innocent too,” Weston insisted through gritted teeth.
Rose remained silent, her stoic face revealing more to Juliet than she might have realized—or liked.
“If this rhyme yields something of value,” Franco added, “if we can prove that the Masters’ Admiralty somehow did something to harm our organization, it might be enough to make them back away from their demands.”
“We’d be smarter to hand Caden over to the Masters’ Admiralty. It solves all the problems. He’s the damn trifecta. He blew up the boat, he’s a legacy of their society, and he worked for the purists. I can call our pilot, tell him to fuel up the plane and that’s it. Game. Set. Match.” Devon would never forgive or forget everything Rose had endured from the Andersons and Caden.
“And what about the list of purists they’re demanding? Grant’s name would be on it because of his great-aunt, Jessica. Do you want to tell Seb you have no qualms with putting his husband in potential danger for something he’s completely innocent of? Because I sure as hell don’t. And he’s not the only one we’ve cleared. Franco?” Juliette glanced at her other husband.
Franco flipped through his file again. “There are at least four other current members with family ties to people we’ve uncovered as purists who were unconnected to these crimes. Rose and Wes, Elliot and Marianne James, and, like we said, Grant.”
“Tristan…fuck…Arthur, whatever his name is, is a reasonable man. He won’t punish anyone who’s not guilty,” Devon contended.
“I’m not trading Caden simply to ensure our own safety, or any of the others, for that matter. That feels too much like negotiating with terrorists.”
Devon opened his mouth, clearly intent on continuing the argument.
“Devon, I’m sorry, but my mind is made up.” Juliette was the Grand Master. She didn’t need the approval of anyone in this limo. It was her decision and hers alone.