Pleasure’s Fury: Masters’ Admiralty, book 3

by Mari Carr

  “Tell me what troubles you,” she said softly.

  “I shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have asked…”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Her words didn’t set his mind at ease. “You are not mine.”

  She gave him a smile she hoped would lighten his heavy mood. “You aren’t mine either, Antonio, but if you wanted to go back in for a little while, I wouldn’t complain.”

  Finally, he chuckled.

  “If you do, be sure to wake me up.”

  Leila laughed at Karl’s request, turning to see that, while he was clearly awake, his eyes were still closed.

  “We’ll think about it,” she teased, prompting Karl to open his eyes, only to narrow them in warning.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. All for one and all that.”

  Leila loved Karl’s easygoing nature, his sense of humor. It was definitely a direct counterpoint to Antonio’s seriousness, his forthright way of speaking.

  “We can’t do it again.”

  Karl lifted up onto his elbow to look over her at Antonio. “Why not?”

  “This cannot last.”

  Leila wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Karl, clever man, had an answer at the ready.

  “We’re all members of the Masters’ Admiralty, Antonio. None of us has the ability to choose.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “But nothing,” Leila interjected, hating to think he felt guilty about what they’d just shared. “There are two ways to go from this point forward and neither of them is ideal, but necessary. Either we live with the regret of what we didn’t take when we could, or the memory of what we shared for one brief, wonderful moment in time. I want the memory, not the regret.”

  Karl nodded. “So do I.”

  Antonio rubbed his eyes, sighing heavily. However, when he looked at them again, she noticed the worry lines had lessened and the heavy frown was gone. “I will never regret what we’ve shared.”

  “So…” Leila drew out with a seductive smile.

  Karl laughed, his arm snaking out to wrap around her waist, pulling her toward him for a long, hot kiss. “I want to be on top this time.”

  He rolled over her, and they spent the rest of the night creating more memories.

  It wasn’t until she woke up the next morning that Leila realized Antonio had been right.

  Walking away from Karl and Antonio was going to hurt. For a long time.

  Maybe forever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Karl!”

  Josephine rushed to him, knocking into the corner of a table and a display stand holding a first edition of Shakespeare’s works, published in the late eighteen hundreds.

  Hugo Marchand lunged and looped an arm around the Irish woman’s waist, holding her still and trapping her arms to her sides before she could do damage to any of the priceless and irreplaceable items in the Long Room. The famous second floor of the Trinity Library was the designated meeting spot for the librarians, a secret group of scholars.

  James Rathmann, who was walking by Karl’s side after letting him in through a back door, had put the group together with the support of his husband—the admiral of England—and the fleet admiral himself.

  His other spouse was Sophia, Antonio’s sister. Karl felt like he should say something to James, to let him know that he, Karl, had a relationship with James’s brother-in-law. Relationship was a good word. It was vague. It covered the fact that Antonio had seen Karl in the worst moments of his life. Rescued him. Protected him.

  Oh, and they’d had sex yesterday.

  In the interest of his own sanity, he wouldn’t say anything to James. He didn’t want to have to define who he and Antonio were to one another. The feelings involved were too big and too complex.

  “Hello, everyone,” Karl said, in the hushed tones appropriate for a library.

  They met in Dublin because it was neutral, not under the rule of any territory, and because Josephine had an in with the head librarian.

  “I was so worried about you, Karl,” Josephine said, fighting slightly against Hugo’s hold.

  Karl gave the other man a grateful smile. “I suspect she’s going to keep resisting until you allow her to hug me.”

  Hugo sighed, clearly not trusting her to her own devices.

  “Do you promise to approach slowly, Josephine?” James asked.

  “Just think of the books,” Karl said.

  She nodded, so Hugo released her, hesitantly.

  Josephine was true to her word, though Karl thought it appeared almost physically painful for her. He accepted her tight embrace.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Karl returned her hug. He’d only met the other woman at their first librarians’ meeting a couple months earlier, but he could tell she was a hugger.

  The other two female members of their little think tank were not. The first was Cecilia, James’s cousin, who looked like a different woman today. They’d met only once before, but as a financial analyst in a high-stress job in Singapore, he’d thought her older. Recently, she’d gotten married and moved to the Lake District to run a B & B with her new husbands. The job change and the honeymoon appeared to agree with her.

  The other woman was Nyx Kata, a religious scholar.

  Along with Hugo, who, like Karl, was a professor, though of Political Science at Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in France, the six were tasked with investigating the intellectual and historical aspects of the Domino, a counterpoint to the knights and security officers. Their group formed only recently, after the attack on the conclave of admirals.

  Josephine finally released him. Just for the safety of the library, he kept a hand on her shoulder as they walked over to the table that was their traditional meeting spot. It was between two-story book stacks, and there was something safe and comforting about being surrounded by so much knowledge.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Karl said. “I know it was short notice.”

  “Anything you need,” James said quietly. “What can we do to help?”

  Karl looked at his hands for a moment, schooling his emotions. “I’ve been in Rome. At the admiral’s residence.”

  James whistled appreciatively, but then frowned. “I thought you were at an undisclosed secure location. That’s what Arthur said.”

  “We were, but when I, uh, got some information about the case,” he carefully didn’t look at Josephine, “we decided to go to the admiral’s estate to see if we could help.”

  “A mistake,” Nyx said. “You should not be involved in the investigation. It is not good for your emotional health.”

  “Hiding wasn’t making me feel safe.” The words came out harder than he’d meant them to, and Karl had to stop and gather himself. Snapping at Nyx wouldn’t help.

  There was silence before he spoke again. “The investigation has stalled. Grigoris Violaris—that’s who’s in charge of the task force—came to see us the day before yesterday. They’ve got leads, but I think they’re focusing on the wrong thing.”

  “What are they focusing on?” James asked.

  “They’re looking for other victims that may have come first. Ciril may have made ricin, a poison, at some point. And they’re tracking down people Ciril knew in prison. They think he’s hiding with an old cellmate.”

  “And what do you think?” Cecilia asked.

  “Ciril grew up in a religious sect in Serbia. After his father died, he moved to a village that was later accused of being a Satanist sect.”

  Nyx straightened, but Hugo shook his head. “In Serbia, it’s not uncommon for any minority religious group to be labeled a sect or cult.”

  “That’s what the knights said. And that’s why they’re not focusing on it, but last time we met—” Karl had to stop, because the actual last meeting had taken place while he was being kidnapped and tortured. “I mean to say, that you said something, Nyx, about how the Domino would use r
ecruiting tactics like those used by extremists and cults.”

  She nodded. “The same social-emotional vulnerabilities that would make someone liable to join a cult would make them ideal to be an apprentice. And if he was raised within in the mindset, he would be particularly vulnerable.”

  “Then what if that’s how the Domino recruited Ciril?” Karl held up his hand. “I know you say that just because something is called a sect doesn’t mean it was one, at least in Serbia…but what if it was?”

  Hugo frowned, then nodded. “I’ll check into it. James, you can get me an up-to-date file on what we know about Ciril?”

  “I’ll ask Arthur—”

  “Just texted Eric. He said he’s sending it.” Josephine set her phone down with a clatter and peered around. “We need it now, right? Waiting for Arthur could take time. So…”

  “Are we saying Ciril is the Domino or the apprentice? Or one of the apprentices?” Hugo asked.

  James sighed. “I think we need to talk about that.”

  “What do you mean?” Karl asked.

  “Besides the mask coins, what evidence do we have that this is the Domino?” James raised his hands, in an “anything?” gesture.

  “You think it’s a copycat killer?” Nyx sounded intrigued.

  “I think…I think it might be someone using the Domino.”

  “Wait, like that Dan Brown book?” Josephine bounced in her seat. “The one they made into a movie?”

  “It’s a possibility,” James said.

  “So there’s no Domino?” Cecilia asked.

  “There is,” Karl snapped. They all looked at him. He bowed his head for a moment. “There is someone. I’m sorry. I am…not objective. I know what you mean, it’s just…without a name…”

  “Karl, if you would rather not be here…” Cecilia said hesitantly.

  “I need to be here.”

  Hugo sighed. “I think we need to stop using the term Domino to describe the person behind this. Because even if they started out as a previous Domino’s apprentice, they’ve changed too many things.”

  “The shift in modus operandi justifies a terminology shift,” Nyx said.

  James nodded. “I agree.”

  “Ooh, bad guy names. It should have alliteration. Maybe Master Mindfuck,” Josephine suggested. “Because he’s definitely messing with ours.”

  “The mastermind,” Karl said. “We call this person the mastermind. We are not dealing with a character from a novel. This person is real, and evil.”

  Josephine's face creased with horror. “Oh, Karl, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  Karl disregarded her apology because he had to speak his suspicion aloud.

  “And I think the mastermind might be the admiral of Rome.”

  Karl had left them alone at the hotel, claiming he had to meet the friend he wanted to talk to in private. Antonio had objected, strenuously, to Karl going anywhere alone. Antonio tried to end the argument by physically barring Karl from leaving the room.

  Karl had finally broken down and said he was going to meet in a top-secret location with someone close to the fleet admiral, and that he’d be totally safe. They’d demanded to know who this person was, but Karl wouldn’t tell them more and refused being escorted. Typically easygoing, it was the first time Leila had seen him truly dig in his heels.

  In the end, he’d left without them.

  At least, as far as Karl knew.

  Antonio’s need to protect them was pathological. He’d stuck a tracker in Karl’s pocket—without his knowledge—just in case. They’d watched on the computer as he went to Trinity College. Given what he’d told them, that was a logical meeting point in Dublin. He was meeting someone he believed able to help them understand how Ciril’s past might provide clues to help find him now.

  Ever since Karl’s tracker had stopped moving, Antonio had acted like a caged animal, pacing the small suite. “I should have followed him.”

  Leila didn’t bother to respond because he’d made the same comment twice before, which was like a normal person saying something dozens of times.

  Antonio had been forced to spend weeks with her and Karl as they recuperated, and with each passing day, he became more and more anxious about Ciril’s disappearance and the fact he hadn’t been found.

  She knew Antonio, understood what made him tick, because she felt the same way. Inactivity wasn’t in their nature. The knights weren’t making any headway in finding Ciril. She and Antonio possessed just enough arrogance to believe they could. After all, Antonio had been the one to find her and Karl, and he hadn’t even been looking for them.

  Antonio walked to the window, glancing out, sighing heavily.

  His impatience was rubbing off on her, and Leila decided fresh air was needed.

  “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Antonio had already turned and started his four-millionth trek across the carpet. He pulled up short at her suggestion. She watched a scowl cross his face and knew what was coming. He was formulating the countless reasons why they shouldn’t go out in public, why it wasn’t safe. He hadn’t been able to hold Karl back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try the same arguments with her.

  Leila wasn’t used to hiding—from anything or anyone—but she had a terrible feeling it would be easy, oh so easy, to get into the habit of doing nothing. To use what had happened as a reason to retreat.

  She’d spent the majority of her life training so she was able to confront and defeat her enemies. For the first time in a long time, she felt like a shadow of the Leila she’d been before her kidnapping. Perhaps it was the cooler landscape. While she’d enjoyed the bright, warm sunshine of Italy, there was something comfortingly familiar about needing a jacket, socks, boots, and a scarf.

  Ireland reminded her of home. And at home, she was strong.

  Antonio started to shake his head, but she refused to have her suggestion rejected.

  “No,” she said before he could begin. “I want to take a walk. We’re in Dublin, Antonio. Thousands of miles from Ciril. I won’t continue to be held hostage by him. You and I are both security officers, well-trained. We know how to protect ourselves.”

  He still wanted to argue, but if there was something she’d learned about her Italian lover, it was that he understood the way a security officer’s mind worked. When she reminded him that she—like him—was capable of protecting herself, he typically backed down.

  This time was no exception.

  “We’re taking guns.”

  “Fine.”

  He glanced toward the window again. “Only a short walk. It looks like rain.”

  She nodded, going to the closet to retrieve the coat she’d purchased upon landing in Dublin. Before checking into the hotel this afternoon, they’d stopped off at a clothing shop to purchase warmer attire. Leila had purchased a cheap nylon vest, wishing there had been time for them to stop off in Finland so she could retrieve her two-layer Halti jacket, with its warm inner-fleece layer.

  They took the stairs down to the hotel lobby, then stepped out into the cool Dublin air. Leila sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes in bliss.

  Antonio chuckled. “Villas in Italy. Lush golden land. Blue sky. And you like this.” He pointed up. “Dreary, gray city. Air so cold it burns all the way down.”

  Leila winked. “You’re soft, Starabba.”

  He narrowed his eyes, pretending to take her jest seriously. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her against him until they were chest to chest, nose to nose. “Let’s go back inside. I can show you how wrong you are.”

  The bulge forming in his pants was definitely more persuasive than the weak arguments he’d tried to offer in the room.

  Leila began to think fresh air was overrated.

  Unfortunately, now that she’d unlocked the cage and Antonio was free, it was apparent he didn’t want to return.

  She remained still when he released her with the intent of continuing their walk. She looked back at the hot
el entrance, giving him a sexy grin. “I think your idea—” she started.

  Antonio shook his head, cut her off. “Not without Karl.”

  It was the only argument he could make that she wouldn’t counter because, like him, Leila didn’t think it would feel right to have sex with Antonio without Karl there. So, she took the hand he proffered and they started walking along the narrow lane. Actually, meandering was a better term. Neither of them had a course in mind, so they simply walked, letting the storefronts and other points of interest determine their direction.

  Leila wasn’t sure she’d ever moved with no purpose, no plan. It was surprisingly freeing.

  Nearly an hour had passed before she realized how far they’d ventured. They’d wandered through the center of Dublin, walking to the river and then doubling back, crisscrossing the sections of the city south of the Liffey as they did. Though it was still late afternoon, the sky had grown very dark, storm clouds forming above them.

  “We’re going back,” Antonio said after a glance at the sky.

  She nodded in agreement, but they hadn’t made it more than a block before the skies opened up and a freezing-cold rain poured down on them.

  Within moments, her jacket was drenched, her clothing soaked through.

  Leila’s teeth started to chatter with cold. At least, she thought it was cold.

  She noticed Antonio didn’t seem to be suffering as much, which was strange, considering she was acclimated to cold and he wasn’t.

  Antonio noticed her distress, failing to shut down his surprise—which in his case was a frown with one raised eyebrow—at her reaction to the rain. He was glancing around, she assumed, for a place to step inside. However, they’d wandered away from the beaten path filled with cafes and shops, opting instead to look at the colorful doors Dublin was famous for.

  There was nowhere to find shelter.

  The rain continued to pound down on her head, her body.

  She shivered and closed her eyes against the large drops splashing on her face.

  Leila stopped walking, her legs going numb. Antonio noticed and reached out, intent on pulling her into his arms. His hand circled her wrist.