Fiery Surrender (Trinity Masters Book 11)

by Mari Carr

  “Juliette called?” Sebastian asked.

  Rich nodded.

  “Levi is in the hospital,” Devon said, with the economy of language that was both blessedly straightforward and heartlessly blunt. “A civilian found him an hour ago.”

  Langston launched into more questions about Levi, however, his voice, which quickly rose to a panicked shout, was only a faint buzz to Rich, who couldn’t focus on anything other than the thudding of his heart.

  Devon caught them up on what he knew—they had video of Mina’s kidnapping, but no footage of when or how she was transferred to a vehicle. Someone at NSA, who was a member of the Trinity Masters, was working on the issue, and they’d narrowed it down to twenty different vehicles seen leaving the area that were either rental cars or stolen.

  Later, Rich decided, he would be alarmed that the NSA could compile that kind of information so quickly, but for now he was simply grateful.

  Sebastian stepped in and showed them the video of Mina being taken.

  That was when Rich’s shock and fear turned to a sort of icy numbness.

  Langston told Devon and Sebastian about Mina’s phone call, and Rich was impressed by the strength in his husband’s voice. He let it sink in, let it bolster him. It helped him find a way to beat down the fear and find his own strength.

  Devon immediately called Juliette after Langston told them Mina had a bomb strapped to her, while Sebastian went down the hall to get Oscar.

  When Oscar walked into their suite, he took one look around and simply muttered, “How bad is it?”

  Langston told his brother about the kidnapping and about the tablet exchange. Rich was grateful that Oscar kept his questions to the bare minimum, quickly setting to work on the tablet. A rumpled-looking Selene had come with Oscar. She took one of the armchairs and began studying a sheaf of printouts.

  It was the bomb schematics, Rich noticed, as he quietly excused himself to the bedroom. He felt less than useless as the others worked to save Mina. The clock was ticking.

  Rich shoved off the lounge pants he was wearing, changing into a pair of jeans. They had to be at Faneuil Hall in just over an hour.

  Once he was ready, he sank down on the edge of the mattress and stared at the wall as he tried to get himself under control.

  He focused on his breathing, slow and steady. In and out. Time slowed down as he closed his eyes and fought to clear his mind of everything except the sound of his breath. There was no way he could show up at Faneuil Hall in his current state. He needed to be calm for Mina.

  He didn’t have a clue how long he’d been gone when he heard the bedroom door open and Langston slipped in.

  Rich opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. Instead, he rubbed his jaw, ran his hand through his hair, and shook his head. This was all a fucking nightmare.

  And it felt surreal coming on the heels of the most incredible night of his life.

  He and Langston had been intimate last night, and it had rocked his world, shaken the very foundation. But Rich didn’t know if he was ready to show anyone, even his husband, what he was feeling.

  He needed to pull it together, shove all this shit down deep, and focus on saving their wife. It should be easy. Pay the ransom, give Luca the tablet.

  Rich hunched his shoulders, clenching his teeth.

  Langston’s hand touched his shoulder, and then slid down his back in a tender, comforting stroke.

  Rich started to shake.

  “It’s okay,” Langston said in that warm southern accent.

  “It’s not,” Rich ground out.

  “We’ll get her back.” Langston stroked him again, tenderly, and Rich broke.

  His head dropped down and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, choking the life out of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is all my fault. I broke the encryption. If he realizes—”

  “Oscar will figure it out,” Langston assured him.

  “What if he’s hurting her?” Rich asked in a tortured whisper.

  “Then we’ll fix her when we get her back.”

  “If anything happens…I’ll never forgive myself,” Rich admitted. “If I’d just left the fucking tablet alone—”

  “We wouldn’t know about the potential bomb. Think about it, Rich. That thing really is a city killer, and now that we know what we’re up against, we can fight back.”

  Rich shrugged. He appreciated Langston trying to boost him up, but Rich would never believe that having the bomb schematics was worth the price of losing Mina.

  “We can’t lose her,” he said brokenly.

  “Don’t. Don’t say that.” Langston shook his head and stood up, batting his words away, and that was when Rich realized how his husband was remaining so strong. He was in denial, refusing to think about any outcome other than the successful exchange of the tablet for their beautiful wife.

  “Langston,” Rich started.

  Langston spun around to look at him. “Don’t.”

  Rich went quiet. They both had the right to deal with this the best way they could. Rich was knee-deep in fear and panic while Langston refused to consider any possibility that included failure.

  “I love you,” Rich whispered as he rose and stepped up to Langston. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but given everything the three of us have faced these past couple of weeks…you and Mina have become vital to my happiness.”

  Langston wiped the tears from Rich’s face, and Rich laughed a little awkwardly. He’d been physically intimate with other men, but not emotionally. A first for him, when he thought he hadn’t had any of those left.

  “I love you, too. Now let’s go get our wife.”

  Hand in hand, they walked out into the main room of the suite. Devon was at the door, talking to Tate, who nodded and stepped out into the hall, another man who looked nothing like Tate—black, with short hair and a slightly uneven gait—stepped in, putting his back against the wall by the door, hands clasped in front of him. Another bodyguard. A member? Given that he was in this room, he must be at least the latter.

  “Oscar, can I—” Langston started to say as he walked toward his brother, who had taken over the dining table.

  Oscar snarled without looking up. Langston stopped in his tracks. “Guess not.”

  “He can’t do it, can he?” Rich asked softly. “When we give back the tablet…”

  “He can do it,” Langston said with so much faith, he almost had Rich convinced as well. “It’s just best not to bug him when he snarls.” Langston turned and headed for Selene.

  Rich stood in the middle of the room feeling useless once again. Devon walked up, offering him a nod but no platitudes.

  “How sure are we that the Europeans didn’t commission this bomb?” Rich asked. The only thing that could take his mind off of Mina was something more horrifying.

  Like a city-killer nuclear bomb.

  “Right now, all we have is their word.”

  “You can’t talk to someone in the intelligence community, find out if the Masters’ Admiralty is on anyone’s radar?”

  “I have no way of knowing if the people I’d talk to are members. Once we found out that the stories of a secret society in Europe were more than just stories, my job got a whole lot harder. Overseas asset recruitment is now a nightmare.”

  “I bet,” Rich said, as it seemed like the kind of thing to say, though he had no experience in the intelligence community besides hiring the ones who’d burned out. “But if they did, we need—”

  “A way to stop them,” Langston breathed. His voice was hushed, almost reverent.

  Rich and Devon turned to look at Langston and Selene.

  Selene was looking at Langston inquisitively, the bomb schematics spread out on her lap and the floor. Langston was on his hands and knees, staring down at the papers.

  “Langston?” Selene asked.

  Langston scooped up several of the papers and jumped to his feet. He smacked the papers he held with one hand, the crack of sound drawing
everyone’s attention. He was smiling, his eyes sparkling.

  “Holy shit! There’s a thermal exhaust port!”

  “A thermal exhaust port?” Selene stood, papers sliding off her legs, and grabbed what Langston held. “That doesn’t make any sense in this context— Oh! You mean a thermal exhaust port!”

  “Yes!”

  “Where?”

  “In the electrical wiring. A battery, all you need is a battery in the right spot.”

  Selene let out a little relieved laugh, her calm exterior cracking for a moment, revealing the worry she’d masked. “We won’t need an impossible shot.”

  “Just a battery, better if it’s a magnetized battery, put here. See?” He stabbed at the paper she held.

  She looked but frowned. “I’m not good at applied—”

  “What’s going on?” Devon demanded, cutting off Selene.

  “The bomber, whoever designed this, isn’t a bad guy. Well, he is, but…he’s Galen Erso.” Langston grinned at them, Selene looked expectant, and Rich had never felt stupider.

  “Who?” he asked.

  Sebastian started across the room. “I’m going to beat it out of him.”

  “It’s a Star Wars reference.” The deep voice surprised Rich, who spun around. The guard at the door hadn’t moved, but he was glancing around at each of them with the air of a man who pitied the uncultured fools he was faced with.

  “What?” Rich couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten from city killer to Star Wars.

  “There’s a flaw in the bomb design. But not a mistake. It was put there. Like the flaw in the Death Star.”

  “The thermal exhaust port is how they blow up the Death Star. Well, the first Death Star,” Selene clarified. Like that was the part that would confuse them.

  “So you’re saying…” Devon prompted.

  Langston was still grinning from ear to ear. “Whoever designed the bomb, whoever created this working abomination, also put in a simple way to stop it.”

  “They designed it under duress,” Devon said.

  “Exactly. Like Galen Erso.”

  Rich’s mind was racing. “Does that mean Luca isn’t the enemy?”

  “He kidnapped your wife,” Devon said quietly. “He is the enemy, though he may not be the bomb designer. It’s possible he’s the bomb maker and doesn’t know about the flaw.”

  “You’d better hope he’s the bomb maker and not the designer,” Oscar said.

  Rich turned—and almost threw up. Oscar had disassembled the tablet. There were small bits of green circuitry on the table.

  “What did you do?” Sebastian asked.

  “I can’t hide that it was decrypted, not unless I have a few days. All I can do is make this thing so fucking slow that it will take him half an hour to forty minutes to figure it out.” He took a specialized tool from his roll and started reassembling the tablet. When he was done, bits of the guts were still on the table.

  “What the fuck?” Rich demanded. “If you couldn’t do it, you should have told us. One of my guys—”

  “Couldn’t have done any better than I did. You lit a match when you decrypted it. No way to hide the fire damage.”

  Guilt washed over Rich and his chest tightened.

  Oscar rose, looking grimly around the room. “All I could do was buy you time to try to get her out.”

  Rich took the tablet as Oscar held it out, and then looked at his watch. It was time to leave for Faneuil Hall.

  It was time to give back the tablet, and hope that in doing so, they hadn’t signed Mina’s execution order.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mina tugged at the oversized jacket Luca had instructed her to put on to hide the bomb strapped to her chest. It was early evening and the sun had set a couple hours ago, but Faneuil Hall was awash in artificial sunshine from the streetlamps as well as the light shining from the countless restaurants and shops.

  Faneuil Hall was a very popular tourist attraction in Boston, and the place was crowded tonight as visitors to the city meandered along the wide sidewalks surrounding the historic marketplace.

  She loved walking along the stalls of Quincy Market whenever she was in Boston on business or to attend a Trinity Masters’ event, but there was no doubt after tonight the place would forever be tainted.

  She slipped her hands into the deep pockets of the jacket, clenching them into fists in hopes it would stop them from trembling so badly.

  There were too many people here. Too many.

  Her gaze shifted around, taking in everyone they passed. She watched a young couple holding hands walk over to a stall to look at colorful scarves. They were followed by a family, the dad walking along with his young son on his shoulders, the mother laughing as their little girl twirled in her bright-pink tutu, a stuffed unicorn in her tiny hands. An elderly couple sat on a nearby bench, eating ice cream and people watching. There was a street performer playing the guitar and singing, a small crowd surrounding him to listen. It was a haunting, beautiful melody, and she prayed the music wouldn’t abruptly end in the explosion of a bomb.

  Mina swallowed down the desire to scream, to tell them all to run for their lives, to get the hell away from here…from her.

  Luca was quiet as he walked next to her, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

  Each step brought her closer to the guillotine. They’d broken into the tablet. They’d found the design to the bomb. Luca would know that, and then…

  She looked around her again.

  And then, she would die. Along with too many others. They were all innocent. They didn’t deserve this.

  Her fear morphed into anger, and Mina felt a hot tear slide along her cheek. She hastily wiped it away, the action capturing Luca’s attention.

  “No one has to die tonight,” he said softly. “This will be over very soon. All I need is the tablet. The contents are very…important.”

  She kept her eyes straight ahead, unable to repeat the lie she’d told him.

  Instead, she just nodded.

  As they got closer to the meeting point, her chest tightened, an unbearable pressure that made her wonder if she was having a heart attack. Rich and Langston would be here.

  God, she wanted to see them desperately, but at the same time, she wanted them a million miles away from here, from the danger.

  She was terrified of dying tonight, but she could handle that better if she knew they would survive. They were amazing, brilliant men with so much to offer the world. They couldn’t—shouldn’t—die like this.

  Mina stopped when Luca placed his hand on her arm. He pointed to the statue of Samuel Adams that stood just in front of Faneuil Hall. “There.”

  Her heart stopped when she spotted Rich and Langston, standing side by side next to the statue. Trembling, she started to walk toward them, halting when Luca grabbed her upper arm.

  “Get the tablet and come right back here. If you don’t return in four minutes, I’m detonating the bomb.”

  Langston held his breath as Mina walked toward them, fighting against the instinct to run to her, hold her close, and never let her go. The bulky coat made her look small and vulnerable. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and Langston had never been more terrified in his life, which was saying something considering he worked with bombs for a living.

  “Run,” Mina breathed when she was close. “And pull a fire alarm. Get out of here. Get everyone else to safety.”

  “Mina…” Rich looked like he was ready to start swinging, ready to pulverize anyone who got too close to her.

  Langston grabbed Mina and pulled her in for a hug.

  “Langston, I’m wearing a—” Mina didn’t finish the sentence. There were people all around them, and even whispering the word “bomb” might cause a panic.

  “I know, sweetheart, but it’s not pressure sensitive. Wearable bombs never are.” Langston kissed her head and tucked her hair back. As he did, he pressed a small communications device into her ear. He ran his fingers thr
ough her hair, making sure it fell forward to cover what he’d done.

  “Here’s the tablet,” Rich said. He was standing far enough from them that the tablet was clearly visible as he passed it over.

  While Rich did that, Langston slipped something into the pocket of the coat, and then released her.

  Mina looked back and forth between them, her helpless, scared expression fading, replaced by calculation. “What are you doing?”

  “Can he hear you?” Langston mouthed.

  She shook her head, then stopped and shrugged, pointing at her chest. She didn’t know. Maybe there was something in the vest.

  They’d been prepared for that. Langston reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, showing it to her briefly, making sure it was cupped in his hand so no one but her could read it.

  Say dropped tablet. Accidental damage.

  Mina looked at both of them, holding the tablet with two hands. “I love you. And my time is up.”

  She turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

  “Tell me this will work. Tell me you can do it,” Rich said.

  Langston grabbed his hand. “I’ll do it. I swear it. I can’t…” He faltered for a moment, the terror he’d been beating back since finding out Mina had been taken starting to emerge.

  Rich squeezed his hand, his expression one of faith, of belief. “You’ll do it.”

  Mina walked back to Luca, her heart slamming against her ribs. What was in her ear? Some sort of speaker or communications device? And what had Langston put in her pocket?

  There was a rule most trial attorneys lived by. Never ask a question unless you already know the answer.

  Right now, she had no answers, and too many questions. And…a little bit of hope.

  Luca was waiting, hood up, hands stuffed in his pockets. She passed him the tablet, her hands shaking.

  “It was damaged,” she said quietly. “Langston dropped his backpack, and it fell out.”