Masterful Truth: Trinity Masters, book 10 Read online

  Masterful Truth

  Trinity Masters, book 10

  Mari Carr

  Lila Dubois

  Copyright 2018 by Mari Carr and Lila Dubois

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Editor: Kelli Collins

  Cover artist: Lila Dubois

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Masterful Truth

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Read more about the world of the Trinity Masters…

  Meet the Masters’ Admiralty

  About The Authors

  Other books by Mari Carr

  Other books by Lila Dubois

  Masterful Truth

  An heir to a powerful secret. A writer whose story began with an illicit affair. A man incapable of love.

  Tess Hamilton is proud of her family’s history, but being a descendant of one of the founding fathers and a member of the Trinity Masters—America’s oldest and most powerful secret society—has had its drawbacks. A historian at the Smithsonian, Tess enjoys her quiet life. So when the Grand Master tells her not only is the society in danger, but Tess must marry two very different, very sexy men, she knows her calm existence has come to an end.

  Isaiah Jefferson makes his living writing thrillers that keep readers on the edge of their seats, but he never expected to become part of a real-life plot. When the Grand Master calls him to the altar to meet his spouses, he’s tasked with solving a mystery…one that turns out to be just as dangerous as anything he could ever write.

  The future of the Trinity Masters hangs in the balance, but there is hope if this new, fragile triad can solve the centuries-old mystery. The founders of their society kept a secret—a piece of information so deadly, it could be used to protect them in times of crisis. But Tess, Isaiah, and their dangerous third aren’t the only ones following the trail. And their enemies are prepared to kill for the secrets they’re uncovering.

  Chapter One

  Juliette Adams glanced out the window, seeing only a rectangle of the stone facade of the office building across the street. The weather was typical English fare—gray, chilly, drizzling. She always wondered how the British ever managed to summon an ounce or two of cheer in such a gloomy place.

  She glanced to where Rose Hancock sat next to her. One of Rose’s husbands, Weston Anderson, was pacing the floor behind them, while Juliette’s own husband, Devon, was holding up the wall farthest from the door, his arms crossed, his expression pure scowl. She’d asked him to remain at home, but Devon wouldn’t hear of it. He wasn’t about to send her into the lion’s den with only Rose and Weston at her side. Probably because Devon considered them as much a threat to her as the Admiralty.

  After all, up until a few months ago, Rose had been actively working against Juliette as part of the purists. Not to mention blowing stuff up in an effort to hurt those Juliette cared about.

  So yeah, Devon was probably right to be concerned, even though she and Rose had declared a truce and formed an alliance. It was a shaky one, but it was an alliance just the same.

  None of them had spoken since entering the small conference space. When she considered it, she realized they hadn’t spoken much at all since taking off from Logan Airport early this morning. Apart from determining their roles in this meeting and what could and what shouldn’t be said, they hadn’t spoken more than a few words on the private jet that brought them to London. Each of them lost in their own thoughts.

  It stood to reason. All of them were tense, anxious about the journey across the ocean. There were too many unknown variables, too much at stake.

  Rose’s other husband, Marek, had set up this meeting with the new admiral of Britain with a lot of help from his curmudgeonly grandmother. Jane Dell, a former British intelligence asset, hadn’t exactly been happy to intervene on Marek’s behalf after he’d chosen his American roots over his English ones, joining the Trinity Masters rather than the Masters’ Admiralty.

  Masters’ Admiralty. Trinity Masters.

  Juliette sighed as she considered the two ancient secret societies. Both seemed to have similar goals—nay, missions—when it came to protecting their countries and striving to better them.

  The Trinity Masters had formed at the same time the founding fathers were forging a new government in their young country. Juliette supposed that, in hindsight, it stood to reason her forefathers would create the secret society based on the preexisting one in Britain. However, two hundred years and the veil of secrecy set in place by former Grand Masters had actually erased the other society’s existence from America’s memory.

  Juliette was the Grand Master now, and even she hadn’t learned of the existence of the Masters’ Admiralty until a few months earlier, when Weston discovered that an evil faction functioning within the Trinity Masters had attacked and sunk an Admiralty ship sailing under a neutral flag during World War II.

  The faction within the Trinity Masters—the purists—had learned of a ship fleeing the war, and sailing to the Caribbean from Europe, loaded with treasure. They’d attacked it with the intention of killing the crew, stealing the priceless artwork, and then sinking it.

  That dastardly plan was spoiled when it was discovered that the real treasure aboard the Esperanza wasn’t just the antiques and artwork, but also the children of members of the Masters’ Admiralty.

  Juliette couldn’t say the plan was spoiled. The purists still stole the art, and they definitely sank the ship—with the children aboard.

  It sickened Juliette to know that anyone in the Trinity Masters could commit such a terrible crime. She’d been raised to believe the Trinity Masters were the protectors of their country, the innovators, the problem solvers, the creators. They called only the best and brightest to the altar to serve, and their membership had been responsible for driving culture, making strides in technology and medicine, as well as keeping the country afloat financially and politically.

  “They’re making us wait as an insult.” Weston halted his limping pace to stand by Rose’s chair.

  “Of course they are,” Juliette said.

  “How long are you willing to sit here like this?” Weston asked.

  “As long as it takes.”

  Devon had gone ballistic when she’d told him of her intentions to fly to London to meet with the new British admiral. After all, their last communication with the Masters’ Admiralty couldn’t be considered anything other than a threat.

  Some things cannot be forgiven.


  They were right, of course. Regardless of the decades that had passed since the sinking of that ship, the purists had continued to heap insult upon injury by selling the stolen artwork for profit. Just like the Trinity Masters had legacies—children who were initiated into the society like their parents before them—the purists did too.

  They had instilled the need to safeguard their secrets in future generations as well as sharing the location of the hidden booty—in a series of tunnels attached to the Trinity Masters’ headquarters.

  Which made the fact Juliette was sitting with Rose and Weston in this meeting all the more significant.

  Raised by purists, Rose and Weston, as well as Weston’s brother, Caden, may have been indoctrinated to the seedy underground faction through unspeakable cruelty and abuse, but they had still protected the crimes of their parents and their ancestors.

  Or at least they had. Until Weston faked his own death to go undercover to expose his parents.

  The door opened and a woman entered. At first glance, one might not take much notice of her—she wasn’t particularly tall, with a slim build and medium-length straight dark hair. Nothing about her physical stature stood out until Juliette looked at her face. She sucked in a deep breath.

  The woman was a warrior. Marek had related to them that Britain had a new admiral, but he hadn’t alluded to the fact that the leader was a woman. Given Juliette’s own role as Grand Master of the Trinity Masters, female leadership obviously shouldn’t come as a surprise to her.

  However, one look at this woman’s face proved she was a force to be reckoned with and for the first time since entering the room, Juliette felt the slightest niggle of unease that their hopes of making reparations wouldn’t be well received.

  Juliette and Rose stood from their seats as Weston actually positioned himself directly next to—and a little in front of—Rose. Devon remained by the wall, though he stood straighter now, his posture daring anyone in the room to make one wrong move. She shot him a “down boy” look. This meeting was going to be hard enough. She didn’t need Devon throwing a big dose of hostility into the mix.

  She’d come to try to establish a peace between them and the Masters’ Admiralty, not declare outright war.

  Weston tried to edge Rose farther behind him, and Rose narrowed her eyes at her husband. She clearly didn’t appreciate his suddenly protective stance. Juliette would have laughed at the man for his attempt if the majority of her attention wasn’t locked on the woman standing on the other side of the table.

  “You’re Juliette Adams,” the woman said, looking her up and down with no pretense of politeness.

  “I am. And you must be the new admiral of Britain?”

  The woman scowled and rolled her eyes. “No. I’m Lorelei Madden, the vice admiral. The new admiral will be along in a moment.”

  Juliette was equal parts relieved and impressed. She’d prefer to take her chances with another admiral. Lorelei was no doubt a valuable asset to their organization, but she didn’t want to have to deal with her at the top.

  Then Juliette glanced in Rose’s direction and realized that she had brought her own bulldog. Rose was staring down the vice admiral with the same powerful tilt in her chin and unfaltering gaze.

  “And you are?” Lorelei asked, directing her question to Rose.

  “Rose Hancock. And this is my husband, Weston Anderson.”

  Lorelei’s attention quickly diverted from Rose to Weston.

  “The famous Wesley Derrick.”

  “Not anymore. Now, it’s Wes Anderson.” Weston repeated Rose’s introduction. “Wesley was the name your knight Tristan saddled me with when he was hiding me here.”

  Many years earlier, the Andersons, Weston’s parents, had tried to murder him and failed. However, Weston had pretended otherwise, escaping first to Canada to recover from life-threatening injuries before traveling on to England to request asylum with the Masters’ Admiralty.

  Then Weston added, “I was sorry to hear about Tristan’s death. He was a good man. A good friend. I’m going to miss him.”

  Lorelei nodded, but didn’t seem moved by Weston’s sympathy.

  The words cold fish drifted through Juliette’s mind.

  “Why are you here?” Lorelei asked Juliette.

  “I believe I made my intentions clear when requesting this meeting through Jane Dell. I wish to meet with the new admiral.”

  “I understand that, but the admiral is very busy and—”

  Before Lorelei could say more, the door opened once again.

  “What the h—” Weston muttered under his breath as Rose gasped with surprise.

  Juliette worked hard to school her features when Tristan Knight entered the room, followed by one of the most breathtakingly beautiful women she’d ever seen.

  “I heard you’d died,” Weston said, clearly awestruck.

  Tristan gave his old friend a crooked grin. “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, but necessary. Tristan Knight, for all intents and purposes, is dead.”

  “Oookay,” Weston drawled. “So who does that make you now?”

  “Arthur. The new admiral of Britain.”

  The tightness in Juliette’s shoulders loosened as anxiety gave way to relief. Tristan had helped them uncover the purists’ deceit, and he’d seemed somewhat sympathetic to what Juliette faced as the unsavory details they’d discovered were brought to light. And while he’d never wavered in his loyalty to the Masters’ Admiralty, he had proven himself to be reasonable and kind.

  “And this,” Tristan—Arthur—said, pointing to the woman next to him, “is my wife, Sophia.”

  Juliette stepped around the table with her hand outstretched. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Juliette Adams, the Grand Master of—”

  “The Trinity Masters.” Sophia’s tone was cool and not at all welcoming. She clearly didn’t trust Juliette. “I know exactly who you are.” While Arthur might be receptive to their apologies and explanations, Sophia would be much harder to sway. And Lorelei might be damned near impossible.

  Juliette quickly finished the introductions, and then Arthur gestured for all of them to take a seat. Devon remained where he was, but Arthur didn’t appear bothered. “At ease, Asher.”

  Devon’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but he didn’t join them.

  As the rest of them took their seats, Juliette allowed her gaze to sweep down Arthur’s right side, to where his arm used to be.

  She glanced next to her and noticed Rose and Weston also sneaking curious peeks.

  Either Arthur had noticed their glances or he’d grown accustomed to questions regarding his injury, because he addressed the issue outright. “I lost my arm the day our former admiral died.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that those two things were connected, which meant the old admiral hadn’t merely died. He’d been killed. Juliette gave him a sympathetic nod. “I’m very sorry, Tristan. For both tragedies.”

  “Arthur,” Lorelei corrected quickly, drawing Juliette’s attention to her face. She’d been mistaken in her previous assumption that Lorelei was cold. For just a moment, Juliette caught a flash of sadness in the woman’s eyes. Lorelei was still mourning the loss of her old boss. “If we’re finished with the niceties, the admiral and I have a very busy schedule, so why don’t you tell us what brings you here today?”

  “I wanted to tell you in person that the Andersons are dead.”

  Arthur’s gaze flew to Weston. “Your parents? The purists?”

  Weston nodded. “Someone blew up their yacht while they were onboard. All three of them are dead.”

  “Who blew up the boat?” Lorelei asked.

  “We don’t know,” Weston said, “but I was there when it happened. Rose and I both were.”

  “So you’re here as eyewitnesses? To convince us this explosion really happened?” Lorelei scoffed at the idea. “Forgive me, Rose, but weren’t you and Weston’s brother working with your foster parents to conceal the mur
der of dozens of children, and then profit from the crimes of your ancestors by selling artwork that rightfully belongs to the Masters’ Admiralty? You’re hardly someone whose word we would trust.”

  Juliette sighed. The Masters’ Admiralty had done their homework. They knew more than she realized. “She didn’t know about the children. Rose was working within the purists’ organization in order to bring them to justice for the stolen artwork.” It had taken Juliette months to convince herself of the truth of that. Sometimes she still struggled with it. She hoped Arthur and Lorelei would accept it more easily.

  Lorelei scoffed.

  “It’s true,” Juliette said. “We’ve come here today in hopes of putting all our cards on the table. Of making amends for what was done in the past. In addition to letting you know about the Andersons, we’re also returning the remaining stolen artwork. A container ship was loaded with all of it and it set sail this morning. We expect it will dock in London in just a few days.”

  “All the art?” Sophia asked.

  Juliette shook her head. “No. Sadly, some of it has been sold. We are trying to track down the buyers, but that will take time.”

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “There was a great deal more on that boat than simply artwork.”

  And now they were getting down to the heart of the matter. Because no matter what Juliette did or said, there was nothing she could do to make up for the murder of all those children.

  “I know that. We have learned that one child survived.”

  Sophia leaned forward. “What? Who?”