Masterful Truth

by Mari Carr

  Isaiah, still high on adrenaline, tried to pull away, but Caden held tight. “Isaiah,” he said, “it’s okay, man. We got them. Tess is…”

  He whirled. He’d been so caught up in the fight, he hadn’t freed Tess.

  Rose was leaning against the spanking bench, gun in hand, protecting Tess, who was no longer bound.

  He and Isaiah were at Tess’ side in record time, Caden’s shirt off and over her head in seconds.

  Rose looked at Caden. “I like her. We had a nice chat,” she said, and then slid away, the hand not holding the gun pressed to her bleeding stomach.

  “Thanks, Cade,” Tess said with a smile, clearly pleased to be covered again. “Wow. That was incredible. Did you take notes for your book, ’Saiah?” Her wobbly voice told him she wasn’t feeling as strong as she was pretending.

  Caden bent lower and took her mouth, hard, deep, putting every fear he’d felt over the past few hours into the kiss. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

  She laughed, but he wasn’t joking. Not even a little.

  Isaiah reached for her, tugging her away from Caden so he could steal his own heated kisses. “Pretty sure I just lost another twenty years off my life. You’re going to have to take it easy on me, babe, or I’ll be dead by next week.”

  Tess cupped his cheek, kissing him sweetly as she said, “I’m sorry.”

  “And you,” Isaiah turned to Caden, who braced himself for his partner’s wrath. He’d taken a hell of a risk, changing the plan, storming in here.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Listen, Isaiah—”

  “No. You listen. She may belong to you, but she belongs to me too.”

  Caden had mistaken the anger. He gave Isaiah a rueful grin. “Heard that, did you?”

  They were interrupted by Tasha. “Shot the fucker in the knee.” She gestured to Giles, then looked at Caden. “Figured you’d want some payback for the way he manhandled your woman. But it looks like you were too late. Not going to lie. It’s kinda cool when you find out your favorite author does a good berserker rage.”

  “You’ve read his books too?” Caden asked.

  Tasha laughed as she slapped him on the back and walked over to Devon, who was placing Priscilla in cuffs.

  Isaiah touched his cheek, bringing his attention back. “You belong to us too. You could have been killed, Cade. Do you have a clue what that would have done to me? I can’t lose you, man. I can’t lose either of you.”

  Tess reached out and took his hand, clearly hoping to provide some comfort. Without hesitation, Caden placed his on top of theirs, tightening the grip. The last time they’d held hands like this had been at their binding ceremony, when Caden had been praying for an escape.

  Caden was searching for what he wanted to say, how he could express the feelings rising inside him, when Tess said, “Not that she doesn’t deserve it, but I don’t think Rose is supposed to shoot Priscilla.”

  Caden whirled to see Rose’s arm up, gun in hand.

  Weston, Devon, Price, and Gunner all shouted, “Stop!” at roughly the same time.

  Caden opened his mouth. He could do it—she’d listen to him. Obey him, if only on instinct.

  He closed his mouth.

  “Put the gun down.” The command rang out, echoing off the walls.

  Rose lowered the gun.

  The Grand Master walked into the warehouse, her steady gaze sweeping over all of them. Rose handed the gun to Devon, and then collapsed into Weston’s arms as he ran up beside her.

  Juliette Adams looked at each of them in turn. When her gaze met Caden’s, he nodded his head slightly, a sign of deference, of acknowledgement.

  “This ends now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Isaiah leaned back in his chair at the conference table and sighed. It had taken them hours to clean up the mess at the warehouse, working to ensure all traces of the day’s events were washed away.

  Gunner had called some FBI buddies to take care of the Hancocks’ goons, while Devon slipped Jayce and Priscilla away, hiding them God only knew where. And Isaiah didn’t want to know how Devon had disposed of Royce’s body.

  Weston, Rose, and Marek had opted out of the flight back home, choosing to remain in Provincetown for a night or two so Rose could recover. “Second honeymoon,” Weston had declared it.

  Isaiah had pressed hard for his trinity to call it a night as well once they’d landed in Boston shortly after ten p.m. Unfortunately, Isaiah had been outvoted, both Tess and Caden determined to return to headquarters to figure out what the poem’s scavenger hunt revealed once and for all.

  He’d been slightly appeased when Caden had wrapped his arm around his shoulders and said he was in a hurry to get to their first honeymoon. Then Tess piled on, asking him where his sense of adventure was and accusing him of being a bigger pessimist than Caden.

  That had given him the jolt of energy he’d needed to carry on, so he, Caden, Tess, and Franco had hunkered down in a conference room, intent on cracking the thing.

  They’d recovered John Adams’ journal, the Hancock lockbox, and Tallulah’s diary from the warehouse. Caden still had the Jefferson cipher wheel, and apparently, the Grand Master had made some calls and had the Hamilton fan delivered to Boston the day before.

  All the pieces of the puzzle were laid out on the table, and Franco was eyeing every single one as if they were parts of the most delicious banquet in the world. Problem was they were still missing the code to open the small lockbox.

  Franco had flipped through the diary twice, painstakingly studying each page, holding it up to the light, flashing it with a blue light, using a magnifying glass. Then he did the same thing to the fan. The guy was determined the code was there, something they’d missed.

  Isaiah yawned for the fifth time in as many minutes. Tess had put her head down, fighting to keep her eyes open. Caden started spinning the cipher wheel on the table like a top and Isaiah grinned, reminded of a bored kid messing around during a church sermon.

  They had been sitting in the conference room for hours, their determination giving way to exhaustion. Well, everyone’s except Franco’s. The man was tireless, like a kid in a candy shop as he started his slow study of the journal a third time, muttering that they were missing something.

  Isaiah let Caden play for another couple of minutes before the constant rattle of the wooden roller against the table finally got on his last nerve. He reached over and stopped the wheel mid-spin.

  “Hey,” Caden said.

  Isaiah sat up when he caught sight of something he’d forgotten. “That’s it.”

  “What?” Tess asked sleepily, putting her head up.

  They hadn’t paid any attention to the cipher wheel because it wasn’t really an artifact; Caden had picked it up in the Monticello gift shop. Instead, they’d focused all their attention on the historical pieces.

  “We didn’t use all of the clues from the cipher.”

  “Yes, we did,” Tess argued. “Hancock safe.” She pointed to the box. “It’s right there.”

  Isaiah shook his head. “Look again.” He turned the wheel toward them, loving the way all three of their eyes widened at the same time.

  “The omega symbol,” Caden said.

  Tess grinned widely. “It’s the one thing we haven’t explained yet, haven’t used.”

  “It can’t be that simple,” Caden murmured, reaching for the lockbox.

  “You think this was simple?” Tess said, aghast.

  Caden chuckled. “Duly noted.” He slid the letter dials around on the box until they spelled out the word omega. “Moment of truth.”

  “Wait!” Franco yelped. “We don’t get a second chance if this—”

  Caden pressed on the latch, and the box sprang open with a click.

  Franco collapsed into a chair, crossed himself, and muttered in Spanish.

  Isaiah held his breath as Caden reached into the box.

  Franco shoved him away half a step. “Do not touc
h. I will kill you. Well, not me, but I know people.”

  Franco produced gloves, and he and Tess put them on. She was looking sheepish, like she should have been the one to stop Caden. When he tried to reach out and hurry this along, she bumped him out of the way with her hip.

  Finally, Franco reached in and pulled out a stack of very old envelopes.

  “Wow,” Caden said. “That’s kind of disappointing.”

  His reaction set Franco off. “Disappointing? Are you crazy?” Tess spread out a piece of white felt on the table, and Franco carefully laid the letters out on top. “What were you expecting?”

  Caden shrugged. “Gold. Diamonds. Proof of alien existence. The answer to who really killed Kennedy. Bunch of old mail just doesn’t cut it, Franco.”

  Franco narrowed his eyes. “You’re a heathen.”

  Caden laughed. “What’s in the letters? And if it’s another poem with more clues, you can call the Grand Master right now and tell her we’re out.”

  Franco checked the first envelope, found it was already slit, then used long tweezers to pull out the letter inside. He muttered some gibberish-sounding stuff at Tess, who raced around, grabbing a camera and some small beanbag weights. Another million years passed while she set up a still camera that pointed straight down at the table.

  Finally, Franco started to unfolded the letter, then stopped. “I need to call the Grand Master. She’ll want to be here.”

  He glanced across the table at Isaiah and Tess. Isaiah shook his head. “We’re not leaving.”

  “We saw her in the warehouse,” Tess said. “I recognized her. Juliette Adams is the Grand Master, isn’t she? It makes sense. It had to be one of the founding families.”

  Franco sighed. “We suck at the cloak-and-dagger thing when it comes to her identity.”

  Tess grinned. “Probably because she refuses to stay home and miss all the adventures.”

  Franco nodded in agreement. “I keep telling her we should stop trying to keep it a secret.”

  “While you’re changing the rules, I think you should get rid of the whole legacy concept,” Isaiah said. “People get in based on merit, not blood ties.”

  Franco pursed his lips. “I’m a legacy.” Then he shrugged. “But they let me in because of my stunning good looks.”

  “Franco,” Caden said with a sigh. “Call the Grand Master.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Franco took out his cell and texted rather than phoned. Juliette was in the conference room within ten minutes. Devon was with her.

  Before any of them could speak, Devon looked at Isaiah and Tess. “I hope I don’t have to stress to you the importance of protecting the Grand Master’s identity.”

  Franco waved his husband’s concerns away. “We already discussed that.”

  “What did you find?” Juliette asked, claiming the seat next to Franco.

  His eyes lit up. “We’re just about to find out. Figured you would want to be here for the big reveal.” He unfolded the letter with gloved hands and placed it on the felt, using the beanbags to hold down the corners. Tess snapped a picture with the camera.

  Isaiah watched the image of the letter appear on the laptop screen, and the program instantly applied filters, the faded handwriting popping out brighter.

  Franco scanned it quickly. “It’s a letter from Sally Fairfax to George Washington.”

  “Seems anticlimactic. Sally and George were well known to be pen pals.” Tess looked disappointed.

  Franco’s glasses slipped down his nose as he pulled the laptop closer to his face. “Even with my nifty filters, the handwriting is hard to read. Let me see if I can work it out.” He was quiet for a few minutes. When he lifted his head, he looked completely dumbfounded. “It’s dated 1758.”

  “That’s a year before he married Martha.”

  Isaiah shared an amused look with Caden when Tess’ nerdiness peeked out. She caught the exchange and rolled her eyes. “You’re a history geek too, ’Saiah.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I’m starting to realize I don’t hold a candle to you. I’ve clearly specialized too much. You got a question about Jefferson, I’m your man. Otherwise, I research just enough to make my fiction sound like it’s based on history.”

  “Oh wow,” Franco muttered, having ignored them completely as he continued trying to decipher the faded writing. “According to this, Sally and George had an affair.”

  “Ooh la la. Now it’s getting interesting, although…” Tess shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s exactly earth-shattering either. Historians are well aware of George’s love for Sally.”

  “True,” Franco agreed. “But I’ve never read any research that said Sally and George had a daughter together.”

  “That’s impossible!” Tess said, trying to reach for the letter itself. Franco smacked her hands, acting as if they were aflame and she’d burn the paper. Tess put her hands on her hips, annoyed. “Everyone knows Washington was sterile.”

  Franco shook his head. “Not according to this.”

  “What else does it say, Franco?” Juliette urged her husband to keep reading.

  “Sally said that her husband was aware of the affair and that the baby wasn’t his. Apparently, he was impotent. He made her give the child up for adoption.”

  Tess shook her head. “Poor Sally. That’s what happens when you marry for money over character.” She glanced at Isaiah’s and Caden’s grins and told them both to “shut up” before they continued teasing her.

  “Sally sent Washington the name of the family who took in the baby, Grace. The Hughes family from New York.”

  “Wow. So George Washington had a child. That’s amazing. I wonder what happened to her,” Tess mused aloud.

  “Are you researching her before or after you tackle that hypothesis about Adams doing the artwork on the Hamilton fan?” Isaiah joked.

  “Adams? What?” Franco asked, clearly fascinated.

  Juliette rubbed her eyes. “It’s two a.m. Can we please focus on one historical mystery at a time? What else was in the box?”

  “Tell me later,” Franco whispered to Tess before opening the second envelope. This one wasn’t addressed. Franco frowned and set it down. “I’m not exactly sure what this is.”

  Tess snapped the picture and was bouncing on her tiptoes, trying to sneak a peek at the laptop screen, so he turned it around so she could see it.

  Her head tilted. “The Culper Ring list? Why would that be in there?”

  “Wait. Weren’t they the spies? Funny that they’re coming up again.” Caden stood next to Tess to look at the sheet of paper still held in place by the beanbags. He clearly knew better than to try to touch it.

  “Again?” Franco asked, before looking at Juliette with an accusatory glare, muttering a curse in Spanish. “Merde. We should never have given them this task. I missed all the good stuff.”

  Isaiah opened Adams’ journal to the poem and pointed to the capped letters. “We figured out there was invisible ink on the fan because of this clue in the poem that pointed to the Culper Ring.”

  Devon looked at the book and then at them. “You figured that out? From that clue? Remind me to hand the three of you applications to join the CIA before you leave.”

  Caden jerked his head toward Tess. “You only need one. Give it to her.”

  Tess was too engrossed in the list to acknowledge their jokes. “There was a list very much like this that Washington’s head spymaster created. Benjamin Tallmadge put the names and words next to the list, but as an extra security measure, he used code names as well as code numbers. This list is different. God. This list would have resulted in a ton of executions if it had fallen into the wrong hands during the Revolutionary War.”

  “Why?” Isaiah asked.

  “Because it doesn’t use the code names. For example, we know Washington was 711 and that Tallmadge was 721. But on Tallmadge’s list, it says 721 is John Bolton, Tallmadge’s code name. Look here.” She pointed to number 721. “It actually says Benjamin
Tallmadge. Do you know how many historians have spent years trying to attach real names to the numbers in this spy ring?”

  Tess ran her finger down the list, muttering about how many had been correctly identified and how many the experts had gotten wrong. Then she stopped, her mouth falling open. “There’s a name beside Agent 355.”

  Isaiah had no idea why that prompted so much excitement, but he could tell from Tess’ reaction, she’d just discovered something big.

  “Grace Hughes,” she whispered. “From New York.”

  “George Washington’s daughter was a member of the Culper Ring?” Juliette asked.

  Tess gasped. “The fan.” She reached for it, studying the painting of the pretty young woman handing Washington the flower. “All the clues. They were leading us straight to her. What if this painting is of Grace?”

  Franco cursed again and broke out in rapid-fire Spanish. Isaiah didn’t understand a word he said, but there was enough context in the tone and the way his arms were waving around madly to figure out the guy was as big a nerd about history as Tess was.

  Juliette put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Breathe, Franco.”

  Isaiah considered her comment, then the other clues they’d found. “It makes sense, I guess. If Washington had established some sort of relationship with her, then it stands to reason she would want to help her biological father win the war. Maybe?” Isaiah felt stupid saying the words, but neither Tess nor Franco seemed to think his supposition was farfetched or silly.

  “You have no idea what a huge discovery this is. I mean, historians knew Agent 355 was a woman, and that she was likely the member of a well-to-do Tory family, but no one ever knew her name. She’s credited with revealing Benedict Arnold’s treachery, and she was instrumental in the arrest and execution of another British spy, John Andre. No one would have ever suspected she was actually Washington’s daughter.”

  “So what happened to her after the war?”

  “The rest is just rumors, nothing substantiated. She was captured before the war ended. Held on a prison ship. Died shortly after giving birth. None of that’s ever been proven though.”