Secret Scandal (Trinity Masters Book 7)

by Lila Dubois

  “A good idea.” Jasper’s barely contained smile spread across his face. He reached out with his left hand, grabbed Eli and kissed him.

  Eli didn’t have time to react to the kiss before Jasper had pulled back and treated Irina to the same quick, hard kiss Eli had gotten.

  Irina quirked a brow at Jasper, then lifted onto her toes, looking at Eli. She tipped her head to the side. Eli wasn’t great at nonverbal cues, but even he could read this one. Cupping her neck with his left hand, Eli lowered his mouth to Irina’s, kissing her carefully. He started with lips closed, then opened his mouth slightly, massaging her lips with his.

  Mindful of the brevity of the first kiss, Eli pulled back. Irina licked her lips and smiled at him.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Eli Wexler.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Irina. I, uh, forgot your last name.”

  “Gentry.” She turned. “It’s nice to meet you, Jasper Ferrer.”

  Jasper was no longer grinning, but he nodded. “Irina, Eli.” He unwound the chain from their hands. “Shall we go get our marching orders?”

  Irina dressed with the neat efficiency with which she did everything. She’d left her clothes folded in a tidy stack in the dressing room where the white robe had been waiting for her. It took only a matter of minutes for her to be back in her street clothes—silk tank top under a black blazer. Black pencil skirt with a thin, decorative black belt. Black pumps. She folded her overcoat and draped it over her arm.

  Her heels were loud on the marble floor as she returned to the medallion room. It was no less atmospheric now that she was dressed, but the shadows no longer seemed to loom.

  Eli was already there, dressed in slightly rumpled flat-front khakis, a polo, and a chunky knit sweater. He carried a battered brown satchel. The clothes were a complete mismatch to his physique. Dude was big. Well over six feet, with broad shoulders and trim hips, he looked like the kind of man who could bust down a door with a firm shove.

  He smiled tentatively at her, and Irina answered the smile with one of her own. He had beautiful eyes. They were a striking bright blue in his dark-skinned face. He was handsome bordering on beautiful, yet seemed to be completely unaware of how attractive he was.

  How refreshing.

  Jasper was the last one out. He wore jeans, a button-down shirt, and a well-worn leather jacket. His mussed brown hair and gray-blue eyes were classically handsome. He looked stylish and cool.

  Irina looked between the two men, her husbands—or at least they would be her husbands, once they completed this “task.”

  Someone cleared their throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

  A handsome man appeared from the shadows. He wore slacks and a dress shirt, open at the throat. “The Grand Master asked me to escort you to her office.”

  Both Eli and Jasper looked at her, so Irina moved first, crossing over the medallion to follow the newcomer. She hesitated as her eyes adjusted, but was able to follow the white of the man’s shirt into the shadows. Hidden in a recess in the back wall was an opening—a doorway.

  Irina hesitated on the threshold. There was nothing but darkness beyond.

  Behind her, Eli said, “Do you want me to go first?”

  Irina smiled over her shoulder. “No, thank you.”

  “Am I the only one who’s a bit worried this is a trap?” Jasper’s words were so low, Irina almost didn’t hear them.

  Eli’s reply was just as soft. “No, you’re not.”

  And just like that, they were a team.

  Irina stepped into the darkness, Eli so close behind she could feel the heat of his body. The small passageway curved slightly, which was what hid the light from the space beyond. Irina stepped out of the darkness into a larger hallway, which was lit by evenly spaced recessed lights. They left great pools of shadow, but it was not nearly as intimidating as the darkness of the passage.

  Eli and Jasper followed her out. On instinct they lined up, this newly formed trinity, shoulder to shoulder.

  The man eyed them, then held out his hand. “I’m Devon Asher.”

  “Asher.” Jasper cocked his head to the side. “From New York?”

  Devon nodded. “You’re Jasper Ferrer?”

  “Yes. Good to meet you.”

  “And nice to meet you. I’ve met your mother. Both of them actually.”

  They took turns introducing themselves. Irina made a mental note to ask Jasper how he knew Devon. From the sound of it, Jasper might be a legacy. Irina wasn’t sure what the implications of that were, but she would figure it out.

  “I’m going to take you to the Grand Master’s office,” Devon said. “Very few of our members are privy to the location of it, and we expect your discretion, both about the location of the office and the people you meet there. Though it’s not strictly a secret, the identities of the Grand Master’s counselors aren’t widely known, and the Grand Master would like it to stay that way.”

  “I didn’t even know the Grand Master had counselors.” Eli sounded rather baffled.

  “We’ll keep it a secret,” Irina said. Only after she’d spoken did she realize she’d used “we,” speaking for all of them. She looked at Jasper and Eli, but neither seemed to mind.

  Devon nodded, then motioned for them to follow. Two rights and a left later, he knocked once on a heavy wood door, then pushed it open.

  The Grand Master’s office was a large room lit by warm, gold light from half a dozen elegant lamps. A delicate Louis the 16th desk was positioned beneath a beautiful oil painting of the original capital. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases glowed the way only old wood could. The shelves were artfully filled with not just books, but rare antiques—a small jade and lapis globe, a shiny brass astrolabe. There was a conference table surrounded by low-backed leather executive chairs off to one side. The only jarring note was a large, glossy black box set atop a waist-high bookcase. It looked like an XL desktop printer, or maybe a 3D printer.

  The Grand Master sat behind her desk, still wearing the robe, the hood hiding her face.

  She rose when they entered. Eli, Irina, and Jasper clustered awkwardly just inside the door.

  “They will explain.” The Grand Master’s voice was flat, almost toneless. She nodded toward the people seated around the conference table, then slid between two bookcases and disappeared.

  Irina blinked. Apparently this place was full of secret doors. That shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did.

  Devon cleared his throat. “I have other things to see to. I’ll leave you with these three.” He looked at the people seated around the table, eyes narrowed. “Behave. All of you.”

  A drop-dead gorgeous blonde woman rolled her eyes and waved dismissively. The brown-haired man beside her flipped Devon the bird, and the third man, whose hair stood on end like he’d been electrocuted, didn’t even look up.

  Irina bit back a laugh, relaxing. Devon let out a long-suffering sigh, then turned on his heel and exited through the same door they’d entered, closing it behind him.

  The blonde tossed her hair and smiled brightly. “Who’s ready to get their Nancy Drew on?”

  Chapter Two

  Jasper grinned. This was going to be fun. He loved a mystery. His entire career—which meant his entire life—was about solving mysteries. And sometimes about creating them.

  He’d much rather think about a mystery that needed solving than about his trinity. Not that Irina and Eli weren’t both beautiful—they were—but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Relationship.

  It was a well-known fact—using the term “fact” loosely—that most members of the Trinity Masters made good use of the years before they were called to the altar to indulge in sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. Or at least that first one. Relationships, if they existed, were always kept casual.

  Jasper had tried, and failed, to have fun, casual relationships. Somehow they always ended with him getting his face slapped, his car keyed, and the girl in question sobbing on the floor, telling him that he’d ruined her l
ife. Hell, he’d even tried dating guys—joining the Trinity Masters meant you had to be accepting of love in all forms and genders, since you never knew who you’d get paired with.

  Dating men hadn’t gone much better than dating women. The last time he’d tried—two years ago—the phrase, “You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that?” had been used more than Jasper was comfortable with.

  He’d been living in dread of being called to the altar. This “task” was a heaven-sent reprieve.

  “Have a seat.” The blonde gestured to the empty chairs. “Once Franco surfaces, he’ll explain.”

  Jasper took Irina’s coat, then gallantly held out a chair. He held out a second chair for Eli, who looked baffled by the gesture, but sat.

  Jasper had carefully left himself the chair at the head of the table, which put him close to the bookcase he wanted to surreptitiously examine. There was a small, framed landscape painting propped on the shelf. Was that an original Thomas Cole?

  Eli, who was half a head taller than everyone else seated around the table, frowned, then said, “I’d like to ask some clarifying questions.”

  Irina’s lips twitched and she slanted a glance at Jasper. Jasper smiled slightly in response. When her lips curved, something warm and rich slid through Jasper’s belly. Maybe this wouldn’t be the disaster he’d always assumed—maybe he’d finally find a place to call home.

  “Clarifying questions? Go for it. I’m Seb, by the way.”

  “He means Sebastian. Actually, he prefers Bastian.” The blonde grinned.

  “Ignore her. She was dropped on her head as a child.”

  “Sebastian, I’m shocked you would say something so cruel.” The blonde fluttered her lashes.

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes and said something in what Jasper thought might have been a dialect of Farsi. He was good with languages, but mostly the Romance languages. The blonde responded in kind.

  Eli sighed, stood, then grabbed the squabbling pair’s chairs, one chair back in each hand. He shoved the chairs away from one another, separating the two. They squawked in surprise. With an ease that was both impressive and a bit alarming, Eli then grabbed Irina’s chair, and repositioned her in between the pair. Irina yelped once, holding on to the arms of the chair as she was moved.

  Silence settled over the group. Watching Eli move everyone around as if he were shelving books had gotten everyone’s attention, even that of the crazy-haired man at the end of the table.

  Eli resumed his seat. “Now then, I’d like to ask some questions.”

  “You’re Eli Wexler?” Crazy-hair spoke for the first time. He too was good-looking, with dark hair and skin that said Hispanic. If the looks hadn’t been a clue, the fact that he had a slight accent would have solved it.

  “I am.” Eli’s voice was steady and calm. “And you are?”

  “Franco. Francisco Garcia Santiago. That’s Sebastian Stewart and Juliette Adams.” Franco waved at the pair, who were behaving themselves now that they’d been separated.

  It was a little hard to believe that the Grand Master had counselors who squabbled like children. If Jasper was a betting man, and he was, he’d guess their behavior was a carefully calculated front. They were probably both super assassins.

  “You’re one of the Grand Master’s counselors?” Eli asked.

  “Yes. But that’s not what’s important right now. I’m a historian. My family runs the Cuban Heritage Foundation in Florida.”

  Eli closed his eyes and tipped his head to the side. When he opened them again, there was an intensity to his gaze that Jasper had yet to see.

  “You’re the…great-great-grandson of Calixo Garcia.”

  Franco blinked. “Uh, yes.”

  “You’re the one the Grand Master was talking about.”

  “Wow, you were really paying attention. Actually, it was my grandfather who was a member. He used to tell stories about this secret society. We thought he was making it up—he was a character. Until the day Devon showed up wearing a ring just like my grandfather’s, and they told me all the crazy stories were true.” Franco held up his hand, the triquetra ring glinting in the light.

  “They tried to get rid of your family because you’re…”

  “Because they didn’t want any brown people,” Franco said frankly.

  Jasper watched Eli’s mouth tighten. Eli had to be at least part black, based on his skin color, though his features and eye color screamed mixed race. The Grand Master had said these people, the purists, were still active. Was Eli a target?

  “But that doesn’t really matter.” Franco waved away the massive issue of racism with a casual hand. “What matters is this.”

  Franco picked up a heavy metal box off the floor. It was about the size of two laptops stacked on top of each other. He pulled on cloth gloves and handed a second pair to Eli, who was sitting forward, watching the box eagerly.

  Franco opened it and took out a large book, roughly twelve inches by fourteen, and nearly three inches thick. It had a textured leather cover.

  Franco placed it on a cloth on the tabletop, then opened to the front page.

  “Brace yourselves,” Juliette said to Jasper and Irina.

  Irina sat forward. “Why, is it dangerous?”

  “No. But if Eli is anything like Franco, he is about to lose it.”

  The title page of the book had writing in ornate, almost medieval calligraphy.

  Eli leapt to his feet, his chair toppling back. “Is that…?”

  “Yes,” Franco said.

  “Where? How?” Eli looked like he was going to have a stroke. He pressed his hands against the side of his head, as if to hold his brain in.

  “What’s happening?” Jasper asked conversationally.

  “History nerd freak-out,” Juliette replied.

  “He’s a historian?” Irina asked.

  “Franco? Yes.”

  “No, Eli.”

  Sebastian laughed. “I forgot you all haven’t had time to say anything more than your names. I don’t want to steal your man’s thunder, but yes. He’s actually an art historian. A very good one.”

  “Art historian,” Jasper said faintly. Oh fuck.

  Juliette looked at him and winced. “Yes.”

  Clearly the Grand Master’s counselors knew about him, and what he did. So much for Jasper finding a home in this trinity. The Grand Master either hated Jasper for reasons he didn’t know, or was a sadist.

  “One of the missing albums?” Eli was asking.

  “Yes. And we have at least nine more,” Franco said.

  “Ten…ten of the missing. I need to sit down,” Eli said, but stayed standing, hovering over the book. “I need my glasses.” Eli upended his messenger bag on the floor, plucked out an eyeglass case. He slid glasses with thick, black rims onto his nose. Jasper saw Irina smile at the sight of the big man wearing the almost comically “geeky” glasses. Jasper’s own equally thick-rimmed glasses were in his bag back in the dressing room, though he only needed them for computer work.

  “Are they ever going to tell us what’s going on?” Irina asked.

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “It’s one of the—”

  Eli talked over the top of him, without looking up.

  “This is a record of war crimes.” He turned the page, sighed. “A record of the art the Nazis stole.”

  Now it was Jasper’s turn to jump halfway out of his chair. “It’s one of the ERR albums?”

  “Yes.” Eli looked at him with surprise. “You know about them?”

  “Yes…yes I do.”

  “Well, I don’t. Could someone please explain?” Irina was looking increasingly frustrated.

  Eli cleared his throat, then started speaking in the measured storyteller tones of a teacher.

  Bet he’s a professor. Not that it matters. He’ll still hate you.

  “These albums were created by the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg task force. Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg, aka ERR. They were the Nazi unit responsible fo
r confiscating all the ‘ownerless’ works of art. But they weren’t ownerless, they were art owned by Jews.

  “The ERR recorded every piece they stole, taking photos of them, and putting the photos into an album. This album, and a hundred others like it. They weren’t meant to record the thefts; they were a catalogue for Hitler and his curators to shop through. They used these to choose art for the planned Führer’s Art Museum in Linz, Austria. There were…thirty-eight albums originally found?” Eli looked at Franco.

  “Thirty-nine.”

  “Thirty-nine, thank you. The Monuments Men found them in nineteen forty-five, at Neuschwanstein. The albums were used for restitution efforts, and then as evidence in the Nuremberg trials. They were the proof and the record of the Nazis’ art looting.

  “Everyone knew there were missing albums, that the Monuments Men hadn’t found them all, but until two thousand and seven, everyone assumed the others had been destroyed in the war. But it turns out some were taken as souvenirs by American GIs.”

  Eli stopped and looked again at Franco, who took over.

  “There are forty-three albums in the U.S. National Archive. Forty-three out of a suspected hundred. It turns out the Trinity Masters have at least ten of the missing albums. We found them only recently.”

  “Found them where?” Irina asked.

  Juliette’s, Sebastian’s, and Franco’s faces turned grim.

  “In a storage area belonging to the purists. They had these albums, and they hid them—for a reason.”

  “Why?” Jasper asked.

  “That’s what you need to find out.”

  Juliette’s voice had taken on a weight that made Jasper look at her sharply. She almost sounded like…

  “We’re giving you this album,” Sebastian said. “And we want you to see if you can figure out where any of the art pieces in it are, who has them now, and why the purists bothered to hide the albums.”

  “If they’re really purists—Aryan-Nations’ style of racist—they may have been Nazi sympathizers. Maybe the Nazis gave them the albums,” Irina added.

  Sebastian nodded. “We know there were Nazi sympathizers within the Trinity Masters at the start of WWII. At that point, they weren’t particularly discreet about their feelings. After the war, it seems like they changed their minds. Recent events have proven that isn’t true. Identifying and locating even one of the pieces in this book would help.”