Masterful Truth: Trinity Masters, book 10 Read online

  “Eileen Mayweather.”

  Sophia looked over at Arthur, her eyes wide with excitement. “That was my great-great aunt.”

  “She was my grandmother,” Weston said.

  “And a member of the Trinity Masters,” Juliette added.

  Sophia stiffened. “You mean she was forced to become a member because she was kidnapped as a child and kept from her real family. She should have been in the Admiralty. Her rightful place was stolen from her. What about her brother and sister?”

  “Sadly, it was confirmed that she was the only child to survive when the ship was sunk,” Juliette said.

  Sophia closed her eyes, crossing herself before she turned to look at Weston, tilting her head as she studied his face. “My father will want to meet you. You should be a member of the Masters’ Admiralty.”

  Rose shook her head. “He’s my husband. We’re bound together with another, Marek, called to the altar of the Trinity Masters. That’s where we belong.”

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “Marek should also be with us. He was a legacy of our society.”

  “A legacy of both societies. Marek made his decision.” Juliette attempted to keep her tone even and soft. She hadn’t come here to debate membership.

  “He might not understand who you people really are,” Sophia said. She stopped when Arthur reached out and placed his hand on hers, softly whispering, “Princess.”

  Arthur leaned back in his chair, his gaze locked with Juliette’s. “Marek and Wes have pledged themselves to the Trinity Masters and they’ve taken their third. I understand what that means. Believe me, if Wes weren’t already married, I would demand that he move here to take his place amongst us.”

  Devon spoke up. “I think you’re all forgetting that Wes’ grandmother and mother weren’t just members of the Trinity Masters. They were purists.”

  “You’re trying to blame someone who was the sole survivor of a horrific attack and then raised by the people who would have murdered her?” Sophia’s Italian accent deepened.

  “No, but it’s important to remember that Eileen and her daughter, Victoria, knew more than we did—they knew the Masters’ Admiralty was real, knew about the deaths of those children. They knew it all…and said nothing.” Devon had lapsed into his mild-mannered tone, which he used to cover up his real feelings. It was what allowed him to work so well for the agency.

  “They were, how do you say in English, brainwashed. You’re blaming the victims,” Sophia insisted.

  Juliette wasn’t sure she disagreed with that assessment. She’d heard a few stories about the abuse Weston, Caden, and their foster sister, Rose, had suffered, and while their mother, Victoria, hadn’t directly participated in the physical aspects of it, she’d condoned it, agreed with it.

  “I assure you Victoria wasn’t brainwashed,” Rose said. “She was just as evil as her husbands.”

  Sophia’s face reddened with anger. “My father will never forgive this. Reparations must be paid. Where is your brother, Weston?”

  Weston shook his head. “Caden is…Caden is dead.”

  Juliette noticed the slight wobble in his voice.

  “How?” Sophia asked.

  “He was shot and killed,” Rose replied, her tone wooden, monotone, and Juliette wondered about it. Rose and Caden had been in a relationship, and she’d lost her mind after Caden was shot, setting off a bomb meant to kill several other members of the Trinity Masters.

  Sophia turned to her husband. “Rome’s legacies have been stolen from us.”

  “Rome?” Juliette asked, the previous discussion forgotten in an instant as she was faced with something much more horrifying.

  Sophia studied her stunned face for a moment, then laughed. “You didn’t think the Masters’ Admiralty only existed in Britain? We have ignored you because you were no threat to us. We are much larger and more dangerous than you realize.”

  Juliette narrowed her eyes at Sophia. Rose leaned forward slightly and started reaching up to take off her earrings.

  “No,” Juliette whispered.

  Rose sat back, but made it clear she would be more than willing to throw down if needed.

  Arthur reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand once more, changing the subject. “You believe the Andersons are the last of the purists?”

  Juliette nodded and prayed what she said next wasn’t a lie, even though she feared it might be. “We do.”

  Lorelei, who’d been quiet throughout most of the meeting, leaned closer to Rose. Juliette glanced over quickly. Rose’s expression was neutral. Alarmingly so.

  The vice admiral studied Rose’s face for a moment longer. Something had put her on high alert. “They’re lying.”

  “No,” Rose said. “We’re not.”

  Arthur leaned back and blew out a long breath. “Juliette, you know the debt isn’t settled.”

  “But—” Juliette began.

  Arthur cut her off. “There are too many loose ends. You’ve come here with very little, actually. I want the name of the person who blew up the boat.” He glanced over at his wife. “And I want a detailed accounting of Weston Anderson’s family tree. Sophia’s father will want to know of any other living relatives, want that part of his family line to continue in Rome as part of the Masters’ Admiralty.”

  Juliette could give Arthur both of those things, but not right now. She glanced over her shoulder at Devon, who covertly shook his head. He understood as well as she did that the flight back home was not going to be a fun one.

  “Fine,” she said, agreeing to Arthur’s terms. His demands could be met in one fell swoop. “We don’t know who blew up the boat yet, but we’re looking into it. And there’s no one left but Weston.”

  “And I want a complete list of all suspected purists—living or dead. I want their names and the names of their children, grandchildren, etc.”

  Juliette sat stock-still, unwilling to jeopardize the futures of Trinity Masters who had been questioned and cleared. Grant’s face flashed in her mind. She’d bound her best friend, Sebastian, to a man she suspected of being a purist, only to find he was completely unaware of his ancestors’ crimes. She would never put a blameless man at risk. And Sebastian would lose his shit if she tried. “What if we’ve discovered some of those children and grandchildren were innocent of any wrongdoing?”

  “I want all the names, Juliette. You have one month to deliver this to me.”

  “A month?” Devon asked coolly.

  “You’ve had more than enough time already. I expect this information in one month, or I’ll have no choice but to turn this matter over to the fleet admiral of the Masters’ Admiralty. And believe me when I say,” Arthur continued, “the fleet admiral is not a forgiving man.”

  “Arthur,” Juliette began, but the kind man she’d known as Tristan really was dead. She knew it the second Arthur’s features hardened and any trace of the man she’d thought she could call a friend vanished.

  “Juliette, it’s time you stopped lying. I say this not only as the admiral of Britain, but as someone who was once Wes’ friend. We want Caden Anderson. We know he’s alive and that he blew up that boat. Turn him over to us.”

  Chapter Two

  He was alive.

  Caden was alive.

  Rose sat and buckled her seat belt more by force of habit than anything. Strange, she had been sitting on a plane, waiting to takeoff, when she’d heard him die. They’d been on the phone when she’d heard the gunshot fired and she had spent the entire flight from California to Boston, playing that sound over and over.

  She and Weston had stayed silent after Tristan—no, he was Arthur now—dropped that particular bomb. Her first instinct had been to slap the shit out of Juliette, the lying bitch, but she was resolved to maintain her loyalty and would not betray the Trinity Masters by showing weakness in front of outsiders.

  She looked at Weston out of the corner of her eye. His face was blank, and he was staring straight ahead, his one remaining eye as fixed as the
false one.

  Juliette and Devon took the seats across from them. Juliette looked calm and determined. Devon looked like he wanted to say something.

  The flight attendant made an announcement, and so did the pilot. Rose heard neither of them.

  They sat in stony silence as the plane took off.

  It was Devon who broke first. Once they were at their cruising altitude, he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward, reaching for Rose. “Rose, listen, I wanted to—”

  Weston’s hand clamped down on Devon’s wrist. “Don’t. Touch. Her.”

  Tension filled the cabin. Weston’s knuckles were white, he was squeezing Devon’s wrist so hard.

  “He’s alive?” Weston asked quietly. “My brother is alive?”

  Juliette raised her chin but didn’t speak. Devon yanked his arm back. He looked at his wife and then said, “The Grand Master doesn’t have to explain anything to—”

  Rose saw red. Last time she’d felt like this she’d tried to blow up and shoot people. The small rational part of her mind—which sounded surprisingly like Marek—was begging her to calm down.

  Rose unbuckled her seat belt and lunged for Juliette, landing one hard slap on the other woman’s face before Devon shoved her back.

  “I said don’t touch her,” Weston snarled.

  “Back off.” Devon bit off the words. “Calm down, both of you.”

  “Calm down?” Weston shoved Devon so the other man bounced off the back of the seat. “My brother is alive and you didn’t tell us!”

  Rose stared at Juliette. The last time she’d attacked her, Juliette had fought back. It had been a hell of a fight. This time, Juliette wasn’t moving to retaliate. Rose could see the outline of her own fingers on Juliette’s cheek, but the blonde didn’t move, not even to lift her hands in defense.

  “Why?” Rose asked.

  * * *

  Juliette had known this powder keg was going to blow in spectacular fashion the second Arthur dropped that bomb. How the hell had he known? That, more than anything, scared her.

  She was ready for Rose’s attack, for Weston’s anger. It was justified. It was deserved.

  She’d almost welcomed Rose’s slap, felt it was her due.

  “I’m sorry, Rose. More than you’ll ever know.”

  “I’m sorry? That’s all you have to say to me? You let me believe—for months—that Caden was dead. Why?”

  Juliette wished she had a better answer. “We weren’t sure he was going to survive that night. It was touch and go for days.”

  Devon started to speak, but Juliette placed her hand on his knee.

  “No,” she said. “She needs to hear this from me. When it was apparent he was going to live, we made a decision.”

  Juliette hesitated.

  “Keep going,” Rose said, through clenched teeth.

  “Caden was working with the purists.”

  Weston banged his hand against the armrest of his seat. “He was just as much a victim of our parents’ evil as Rose was. He did what he had to—to survive. You know that. You can’t condemn him for his actions.”

  “I know that,” Juliette said, more to calm Weston down than from true belief. She didn’t trust Caden Anderson as far as she could throw him, but there was no denying he was a product of his upbringing—the same as Rose and Weston. “We hoped that once he recovered he would be able to help us bring down the Andersons.”

  Rose inhaled slowly. “Caden. Caden blew up the boat, didn’t he?”

  “You made him blow up that boat?” Weston asked, his words dripping with pure disgust. “Rose was on the yacht. You could have killed her, too.”

  “No.” Devon shook his head. “Caden acted alone on that. We wanted to trap them, you know that. Rose was wearing the wire. You were all there, doing what we thought best to bring them to justice. Caden…”

  Rose grinned, though there was no joy in the expression. “He got away from you, didn’t he? Escaped the big CIA man’s clutches.”

  “Clutches?” Devon scoffed.

  Juliette knew he was still angry and frustrated that Caden had managed to slip away. “He was too injured to leave the safe house. At least that’s what we thought.”

  * * *

  Rose looked at Juliette, waited until the other woman’s gaze met hers. “Caden and I have high pain tolerances.”

  Beside her, Weston made a sound of pure agony. Rose took his hand without looking at him. She was trying to hold on to her anger at Juliette and Devon, but that feeling was quickly fading, replaced by anxiety.

  Caden is still alive.

  Caden is alive.

  Deep down, in the darkest parts of her soul, she hated that. She hated that he hadn’t died because, as hard as it was, his death had been clean and simple. Dead Caden had no control over her. Dead Caden meant no more Master Anderson and Darling.

  “Caden’s alive.” She wasn’t aware that she’d spoken aloud until Weston squeezed her fingers.

  “I’m here, Rose. I’m here.”

  “The men in my life keep returning from the dead.”

  “Rose, I’m so sorry,” Juliette repeated. “There’s something you should know.”

  “Something else? Oh, what fun,” Rose said.

  Weston barked out a laugh, and some of the cold that seemed to be filling Rose faded away.

  “He agreed…” Juliette looked at Devon, as if asking if he wanted to speak.

  Rose switched her attention to Devon. He’d been her fiancé for most of her life, and though she’d never been able to trust him enough to be honest with him, she had cared for him, and he for her.

  Devon sighed. “Caden assumed all guilt for the things the two of you did for the purists. He wanted to ensure that the Grand Master wouldn’t punish you…although you didn’t make it easy for us to ignore your crimes.”

  “You blow up one little hotel room and suddenly you’re labeled mentally unstable,” Rose joked.

  Devon didn’t share her humor. “He didn’t want you to know he was alive. Either of you.”

  Weston stiffened. “He knows I’m alive?”

  “He didn’t want us to know?” Rose asked at the same time.

  Devon reached out and took her hand. Weston growled, but Rose and Devon both ignored him. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose thought she saw Juliette stiffen.

  “He said…he said he didn’t want to hurt you anymore. That it would be better for you if you never found out he was still alive. I was working on creating a new identity for him when he blew up that damn yacht. Now…”

  “Now?” Rose prodded.

  “I think Caden Anderson should remain alive.”

  Rose yanked her hand from Devon’s, covering her face. The pain was too much, too deep for tears. She hid behind her hands and trembled as a lifetime of painful memories washed over her. Weston cursed and hauled her onto his lap.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore,” Weston whispered in her ear.

  But I’m his. I belong to him.

  There was some part of her that would always believe that. It had been, quite literally, beaten into her.

  “I wish Marek was here,” she whispered.

  “Me too,” Weston answered.

  Rose hid against her husband. She’d never imagined she would call Weston husband, and had never dared to dream someone as wonderful and noble as Marek could love her.

  “Guys, can Rose and I have a minute?” Juliette asked.

  “You want me to stay?” Weston whispered in her ear.

  In response, Rose slid off her husband’s lap into her own seat.

  The men stood, eyeing one another uneasily. Weston might never get over the fact that Devon had been Rose’s fiancé, and Devon would probably never get over the fact that Weston hadn’t come to him for help all those years ago when he learned what the Andersons were doing to her.

  But they left the cabin together.

  Juliette scooted forward and tentatively touched Rose’s knee. “Rose? This isn’t me asking as
the Grand Master. This is me asking as a friend. Are you okay?”

  A friend? Yes, perhaps we are friends, or at least working toward it.

  “Okay? No. I’m not okay.”

  Juliette stayed silent.

  “I thought… I thought it was over. But that’s clearly never going to happen. I’m broken and I always will be.”

  “You’re not broken, you’re a survivor.”

  “A survivor?” Rose snorted and looked out the window. “Technically that’s true.”

  “You don’t have to see him,” Juliette whispered.

  Rose jerked as if she’d touched a live wire. “See him?” She licked her lips, and looked at Juliette. “I can’t. I can’t. I don’t know…I don’t know if I could be near him and not…”

  “Not what?”

  “Not kneel. Not submit.” Rose rubbed her face. “For God’s sake, I’m married. He can’t…”

  “You’re right. He can’t.” Juliette came out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Rose. “He can’t do anything to you that you don’t want.”

  * * *

  Neither of them spoke again. Not for a long time.

  So long that Juliette had forgotten about Devon and Weston.

  “Everything okay in here?” Devon asked, popping his head back into the cabin.

  She nodded, releasing Rose, who looked more like her indomitable self again. Juliette would always admire her strength. Rose might get knocked down, but she never stayed there. Never failed to rise again.

  Juliette had, for the most part, dealt with her jealousy issues. Devon loved her and Franco. They were happy together. The fact that he still felt something for Rose—mostly guilt—didn’t change that.

  Weston returned to his seat next to his wife, taking her hand.

  Devon gave her a wary look that Juliette soothed away with a soft smile and nod. It was enough to let her husband know that everything truly was okay.

  They were quiet for a few minutes, but that silence gave Juliette time to remember that there were still too many hurdles to clear even if they did hand Caden over.

  “How did they know?” she asked. “How did the Masters’ Admiralty know Caden was alive?”