Delicate Ties (Trinity Master Book 8)

by Mari Carr

  “Just did.” Vincent raised his finger, asking the taxi drive to give him a minute.

  “Find somewhere to hunker down. Not Charlotte’s apartment.”

  Sebastian didn’t have to issue that warning. Even without the fire, he hadn’t intended to ever let Charlotte or Christian return to her place. They didn’t need the painful reminder. He’d hire movers to get all her stuff out.

  “I’m on it.”

  “Good. Text me your location. Stay in tonight.”

  “Rose?” Vincent asked.

  Sebastian fell silent for just a moment. “Yeah. I think…probably…”

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow, Seb.”

  Christian seemed to jerk out of his trance when Vincent said his brother’s name. “Vincent—”

  Vincent leaned toward the driver. “Take us to the Omni Parker House.”

  Charlotte shivered, though it wasn’t cold in the vehicle. Vincent wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Charlotte.”

  “We could have been there. In that penthouse. Was she…”

  Christian cupped Charlotte’s cheek and turned her face to his. “Don’t think about it. Please. Let’s just get to the Omni and regroup.”

  “We need to get back into those tunnels,” Charlotte said, her voice more determined than ever. “We need to figure out what it is they’re hiding, what they’re killing to protect.”

  Christian glanced at Vincent over her shoulder.

  Vincent nodded, his blood turning to ice as he let the cold, hard reality of what had happened sink in. “She’s right. We’re not finished. This doesn’t end until we find Rose, until we uncover the bastards and make them pay.”

  Christian sighed and nodded, reluctantly resigned. He’d already killed once, and it was clear he wasn’t looking forward to the possibility that more blood may be shed. Even so, he was every bit as determined as they were. Vincent could see it in his eyes.

  “We’ll make them pay,” Christian agreed.

  The taxi pulled up in front of the Omni. Vincent had stayed at the hotel before, on business. It was the reason he’d asked the driver to bring them here.

  “Is the Harvey Parker Suite available?” he asked the woman at the front desk.

  “Yes, sir. It is.”

  “We’ll take it.” Vincent pulled out his credit card and signed for the room, refusing her offer of help with their luggage. Which made it obvious they had none. She gave them a curious look, but was trained well enough to keep her questions to herself.

  They rode the elevator up to the suite in silence and, as soon as the door to the room was dead-bolted behind them, Vincent was able to take his first easy breath since leaving the library.

  “Text Seb and tell him where we are,” Vincent said to Christian, who did as he said. “I need to make a couple of calls too, to ensure our safety.” He walked to the bathroom for privacy, calling his personal assistant and then his driver. They’d taken their last damn walk around this godforsaken, dangerous city. His driver could be here by morning.

  Once he’d settled a few things, he returned to the living room, where Charlotte and Christian sat next to each other on the couch. They were quiet, with exhausted, dazed expressions on their faces.

  The three of them walked to the bedroom, none of them speaking as they took off their clothes and climbed beneath the covers.

  Every time they’d come together, the sex had been explosive, passion personified. Tonight, they needed something different. Softer. Easier. Comforting.

  They took turns kissing and caressing, touching, stroking.

  Christian rolled Charlotte to her back and slid in slowly. The two of them made love as Vincent watched. They rocked together in a steady, easy beat, a gentle rhythm. They came together and then…then it was Vincent’s turn.

  Like Christian, he moved within her as if she were made of the most fragile glass. And while there was no denying Charlotte was a pain junkie, she was just as moved by a softer touch. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, her arms around his neck. He kissed her as he thrust in and out. Christian was there, through it all, placing soft kisses on their shoulders, running his hand over Vincent’s ass, reaching between them as they fucked to stroke her clit or grip his balls.

  It was a beautiful madness. And Vincent relinquished control. He didn’t bother trying to drive the action, didn’t want to issue commands or even draw it out.

  He wanted to simply be.

  With her. And with him.

  His climax struck seconds after Charlotte’s, his body jerking as he gave himself up to the white noise.

  The three of them lay on their backs, holding hands in the aftermath. Christian and Charlotte were both breathing deeply, and Vincent suspected they’d already fallen asleep.

  Despite that—or perhaps because of it—he whispered the words he’d been longing to say out loud.

  “I love you. Both of you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  He was gone. Vanished.

  Rose leaned her face against the glass of the cold window and considered all she’d done since arriving in Boston. She wanted the tears to come, but they wouldn’t. Hadn’t.

  Her face had been dry when the plane landed, dry when she arrived at the hotel. She’d stood outside, staring at the condo across the street, looking for signs of police activity. There’d been none.

  She’d sat in the lobby with her phone and started calling. She called the hospitals, asking if a man in his early thirties had been brought in with a gunshot wound. She hung up when they asked for her name, when they asked if she was aware of a crime or if she needed the police.

  Her face stayed dry when she switched from calling hospitals to calling morgues. Over and over again she described him, six feet, 180 pounds, dark hair, scar on his left knee…and a tattoo of a rose on his shoulder. Her face stayed dry, but her fingers trembled so roughly she had trouble working her phone.

  Every place she called, the answer was “no.” No, there’s no one fitting that description.

  He was gone. Vanished.

  Her stomach hurt to the point she was fighting back nausea with every breath. Her eyes were gritty, and her phone screen swam in and out of focus.

  Caden was dead. Dead and gone. She wouldn’t even be able to mourn him.

  They’d disappeared him. Juliette, the woman Rose had spent most of her life believing would become her wife, made him disappear. Juliette, who, when she became Grand Master, was supposed to be different, better…wasn’t.

  Rose had hoped that with Juliette—who had always hated and railed against many of the rules of the Trinity Masters—at the helm, things would change. And they had changed.

  But not enough.

  Juliette had killed Caden. Maybe she hadn’t pulled the trigger, but she’d definitely given the order and then disposed of his body, leaving Rose nothing to mourn.

  Last night, she’d walked out of the hotel and down the street to a liquor store, then she had walked back, pulling her scarf from her neck as she did. It seemed unreal, even at the time. As if she was in a trance.

  She was thinking of the Trinity Masters as she rode the elevator to the penthouse. Of Juliette and Devon, who now had a third who wasn’t her. She’d been relieved when she hadn’t been placed in their trinity, but now, thinking about it added to the burning cold inside her.

  Quiet and numb, she’d walked to the door of the three-bedroom penthouse the Trinity Masters used. She pulled the fire alarm and waited, but no one came out.

  With cold fingers, she took out the first bottle of cheap vodka and emptied it on the floor. Then she stuffed her scarf into the neck of the second bottle, waited for it to soak into the fabric, then lit the end and threw it at the penthouse door. She stood there, watching the door burn.

  Part of her hoped the flames would consume her, but they didn’t. They ate away at the penthouse doors until she could see through them. Until she was able to kick them open.

  She still had one bottle left.<
br />
  Rose emptied all the alcohol from the bar in the suite, including a nice bottle of champagne, onto the beds. Then she grabbed a pillow case, stuffed it into the neck of the third bottle, and tossed it.

  And still the tears wouldn’t come.

  Christian followed a few paces behind Charlotte and Vincent as they explored the lobby area of 500 Boylston. The first few floors were primarily used for retail and small-office space, which meant it was next to impossible to determine where the tunnel’s entrance was located from this end.

  “We’re going to have to come at this from underground,” Charlotte said after a few minutes, confirming his fear.

  They were going back down in the tunnel. Vincent led the way back to the library.

  Christian had texted Sebastian this morning to tell his brother their plans. Sebastian hadn’t been pleased to hear they intended to leave the safety of their hotel and walk into what he called “the lion’s den.” His ears were still ringing from his kid brother chewing him a new one about their tasks being completed, about how this was no longer their concern. Caden was gone and Charlotte had cracked the code of the tunnels.

  For Sebastian, it was enough. For Christian—and Vincent and Charlotte—it wasn’t.

  Christian had argued against every point and in the end, Sebastian had been forced to give in. He promised to tell Juliette their plans and have her meet them there, but said he wouldn’t be able to go down with them.

  Juliette had charged Sebastian, Devon and some woman named Tasha with finding Rose as soon as possible. Christian silently prayed they found her before she found them.

  Rose sat on the small fold-out couch in the office at 500 Boylston. It was Caden’s East Coast base. When he was alone, he’d sleep here in his office. Or at least, he had. Before he died.

  There was a large, state-of-the-art sit-stand desk, a filing cabinet, the couch and a bank of monitors. They showed the security feed from the building’s main floor cameras. Since his parents owned controlling interest in the building, this small office on the tenth floor served as a backup security station.

  His parents. Thinking of the Andersons sparked rage in Rose’s numb heart.

  She felt sick, and was no longer sure how long she’d been in Boston, or when she’d last slept or ate. The rage felt good. It was heating her from within.

  A man walked into the courtyard of the building, his slightly grainy image moving across the small screen of the security camera. She recognized him, but it took her a minute to figure out why.

  Christian Rogers Stewart, Broadway star. She and Caden had been to see several of his shows. He was charismatic and talented. He was also a member of the Trinity Masters, brother to Sebastian Stewart, Juliette’s lifelong best friend.

  Christian. The name she’d heard on the phone.

  The man who’d murdered Caden.

  Rose’s breathing was hard and fast as she watched Christian pace around the courtyard, then confer with two other people, a woman and a man. His trinity. He was married, while Caden was dead.

  Before she could move, they disappeared.

  The tunnels. The godforsaken stupid tunnels. They had to have been looking for the entrance to the one accessible from the basement of this building.

  Rose stood, the fire of rage burning hot. She would find them in the tunnels. She would disappear them the same way they’d disappeared Caden.

  They were only two steps inside the Grand Master’s office when Christian realized Sebastian hadn’t given up the fight. Instead, he’d enlisted his best friend’s help in continuing the battle.

  “You can’t go back into those tunnels,” Juliette said when she looked up to find them on the doorstep.

  “Why?” Charlotte asked.

  “Actually, that’s my question,” Juliette said. “I don’t understand what you hope to discover down there. We know where the tunnels begin and end now.”

  “The Grand Master charged us with finding them so she could seal them, prevent the purists from being able to come and go. We still don’t know exactly where the longest one ends, or how to access it from within headquarters. All we want to do is follow it to its conclusion.”

  Juliette shrugged. “It ends at 500 Boylston. Case closed.”

  Vincent rolled his eyes. “You’re being purposely obtuse. Why would you leave this loose thread dangling?”

  “I don’t intend to. All I’m saying is it isn’t your thread to knot. We’ll tell the Grand Master everything you figured out. She has people at her disposal who are better equipped to deal with this.”

  “Right,” Vincent said. “Sebastian and Devon and that woman. But they’re busy looking for Rose, and as long as that entrance is exposed, so are the Trinity Masters.”

  “There are others. We’re taking precautions.” The way Juliette’s face pinched, Christian guessed that there weren’t really plenty of other people. They were probably spread thin, since they didn’t know who might be a purist.

  Vincent growled. “I don’t give a shit about any of that. I’m a member too. I have the right to protect the Trinity Masters. I’m not one to make dramatic proclamations, but I joined because I believe in the cause. This country needs the Trinity Masters, so I will protect it, and by extension my own trinity. She asked us to do a job, so let us do it.”

  Juliette looked shocked, Charlotte looked teary, and Christian took his hand, squeezing it.

  Franco, who’d remained quiet throughout the argument, placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Charlotte has studied the blueprint more than any of us. She could pick her way through those tunnels easily. And we were just saying this morning that what we find at the other end could provide us with the answers we’re looking for. Rose is a shadow. God only knows how long it will take the others to track her down. I think we should move on this. Now. Strike while the iron’s hot.”

  Juliette’s voice was tired and worried. “Vincent’s right.” She rose and walked across the room. “But we’re learning from past mistakes.” She opened a cabinet on the far wall as Franco grinned.

  “He’s not going to like you rifling through his toys,” he teased Juliette.

  “This isn’t his office. It’s the Grand Master’s. Which means this belongs to all of us.”

  “That’s a very weak interpretation.” Franco looked at Christian as he explained, “Devon’s spy stuff. The man is a tech whore.”

  “Here.” Juliette handed Christian a small LandAirSea tracker. “Put this in your pocket. It’s a GPS tracking device. We’ll be able to find you if…”

  She didn’t finish the statement, but Christian’s claustrophobia was perfectly able to fill in the blanks. He’d heard about the previous cave-in and the woman who’d gotten trapped in the rubble. Jesus, the thought had woken him up several times last night, leaving him gasping for breath.

  “Take this too.” She handed Vincent a walkie-talkie. “Cell phones are useless down there. This is a high-powered one, and it’ll allow you to report in if you find anything or if you encounter any trouble.”

  Christian swallowed heavily when Juliette offered one more thing.

  “And this.”

  This time it was Vincent who accepted the gun. Christian wasn’t sure if he was pissed off that he wasn’t given a weapon or relieved. Part of him feared that if push came to shove, he wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger again. No matter what. Which meant they were all safer with Vincent wielding the weapon.

  Charlotte took her cell phone out of her pocket. “I have photos of the blueprint here.”

  “You took pictures of it?” Juliette asked.

  “Um. Oops.” Charlotte clearly hadn’t intended to reveal that. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ll use them to guide us down there then I swear I’ll delete them.” As she spoke, she fired up the Droid Light as well. “Plus built-in flashlight.”

  “Fine. Franco, remind me to confiscate her phone to hand over to the Grand Master when they get back.” Juliette handed Vincent and Christian flashligh
ts from Devon’s treasure trove. “These are tactical flashlights and they work more like searchlights. Brightest flashlight on the market. It’ll feel like daylight down there. Should help you find your way easily.”

  “Thanks,” Christian said, trying to ignore the telltale tightening in his chest that said his claustrophobia wasn’t going to simply vanish just because they had a GPS tracker and fake daylight.

  “Ready?” Vincent hovered at the door to the tunnel. His gaze was locked on Christian’s face, as was Charlotte’s. Christian drew on every bit of acting ability he possessed to fool them into thinking he was okay.

  “Yeah. Let’s see where this thing leads.”

  She hated these damn tunnels. Rose used a magnetic keycard to open a series of doors in the basement of 500 Boylston. The last door revealed a rough stone floor with a circular hole in the center. It looked like a lost wishing well. The whimsical illusion was shattered by an industrial metal ladder propped against one wall and the small cabinet next to it.

  These hadn’t been here the last time she’d come into the tunnels. Caden must have installed them. It made sense. His parents sent him down into this hellhole enough.

  She found a flashlight, a headlamp, and a gun in the cabinet. She picked up the gun. Was it loaded? Rose had never fired a gun. She knew nothing about them.

  There was a large satchel in the bottom drawer. She draped that across her body and stuck the gun inside. Some part of her brain, the small piece that wasn’t consumed by grief and rage, was sending up alarms, begging her to put the gun back.

  Rose ignored it, lowered the ladder into the hole, put the headlamp on and started down.

  The flashlights Juliette supplied threw off tremendous amounts of light. Which was good and bad. On one hand, Christian could almost pretend they were out in the sunlight. On the other, the extreme brightness showed him exactly how confined the space was.

  Vincent led the way, with Charlotte in the middle. Once they reached the place where the tunnel that led to the altar room intersected with theirs, she declared them a third of the way there.