Hidden Devotion (19 page)

What a complete clusterfuck this day had turned out to be. He’d handled the issue with Sebastian, but now he had mountains of information to try to sort through and verify with other assets and surveillance.

And then the messenger had arrived, bearing a note from the Grand Master. This time it had clearly been Juliette’s handwriting—she wasn’t trying to disguise it. The note had been signed “G.M.”

Respect for the Grand Master had been instilled into him since he was a baby, and as he walked down the marble hallway he had to remind himself that Juliette’s word was now law.

There hadn’t been instructions as to where he was to go, but since it had been a formal note, he stopped and put on a robe, forgoing taking off his other clothes. If at all possible, he’d rather not be naked and vulnerable for what was undoubtedly going to be a very crappy conversation.

Pulling the hood up, he went to the altar room, figuring that was the best place to wait.

And wait he did, for nearly two hours—until the sound of panicked shouts had him running for one of the shadowed arches in the back wall.

This was absolutely terrifying. Franco sat back, staring at the pile he’d dubbed “mysteries”. The Trinity Masters’ files and records contained information that could change how the US saw its own history. There was at least a lifetime worth of work for someone like him in just this small stack of paper, let alone the boxes and mounds scattered on the floor.

“We’re getting married, right? I mean, you and me?” He adjusted the piece of fabric he was using in lieu of gloves to handle the papers. “Because I need access to this.”

“You want to get married so you can work on our archive?” Juliette’s voice sounded a bit odd. She’d been muttering about lemon juice a few minutes ago, and even snuck upstairs, returning with a to-go cup of lemon wedges. He’d asked what she was doing but she waved him away.

“No, I want to get married because I’m falling in love with you and you’re gorgeous, but now we
need
to get married. You need me to do this.”

“You’re one of my councilors. You’re going to work on this even if we don’t get married.” She coughed.

“Before I realized it was you, I was going to ask the Grand Master if I could marry you and Devon.”

Juliette wheezed. “Devon?”

He flipped the page. Was this a map? It looked like a map. He loved maps.

“Franco!” Her exclamation didn’t have the force of a few minutes ago. She coughed again.

“What?”

“You seriously wanted to be in a trinity with Devon and me?”

“Of course. He loves you, you love him. The first time I saw you together I knew there was something between the two of you.”

“Devon and I… Devon and I…”

Her voice trailed off, and the hairs on the back of Franco’s neck stood on end. “Juliette?”

Her face was flushed and she was breathing hard.

Franco jumped out of his chair. “Juliette?”

“I don’t…feel good.”

He touched her forehead. “You’re hot.” He leaned her back in the desk chair, listening to her shallow breathing. “You were fine a couple hours ago.”

Juliette opened her eyes, gaze darting across the ceiling. “Hard to. Breathe.” She clawed at the desk, grabbing a sheet of paper and balling it up in her hand.

Franco grabbed his cell phone from his pocket. No reception. There was a phone on the desk. He picked it up, ready to call 911.

Call them and tell them what? That he was in the underground headquarters of a secret society? He needed to get her upstairs to the library.

Picking her up in his arms, Franco ran out of the Grand Master’s office—and had no idea which hallway to take. There were three options and he didn’t remember which way they’d come in.

Heart hammering in his chest, Franco picked the right-hand option and started jogging, yelling as he went. “Help! Can anyone hear me? Help!”

She said they’d be the only people in here, and yelling was probably futile. Whatever was wrong with Juliette had happened fast, and that was never a good sign. By the time he figured out how to get the hell out of here, it might be too late.

He was hoping for a miracle.

“Franco? Juliette!”

Devon nearly ran into Franco as he entered the dark hallway beyond the arch. Juliette was limp in his arms, her face flushed and breath reedy.

“Help me get her out of here.”

Devon didn’t ask any questions. Now wasn’t the time. Handle the crisis at hand then investigate.

He resisted the urge to snatch Juliette from the other man’s arms. If it had been anyone else he would have, but, unexpectedly, he trusted Franco. Maybe it was the grim look of determination on his face. Maybe it was the undeniable connection he’d felt to Franco last night.

“Have you called 911?” Devon smashed the button for the elevator.

“No. I wasn’t sure what to do. She has a phone in her office.” Franco shifted his hold of Juliette enough to shed the robe. When Devon reached to take her, he leaned away, keeping her in his arms.

“Her office?”

Franco leapt into the elevator the instant the door opened. “The Grand Master’s office. I assume you know.”

“I know.
You
know?”

“Yes. I’m going to sit on the small council, too.”

“The what?” Devon had his phone out, 911 dialed. The second the door opened and they were above ground, he was going to hit send. “Wait. You’re going to be one of her councilors?”

“Don’t worry, I told her the three of us should get married.”

What?

He didn’t have time to deal with any of what Franco had just said. The doors opened. Devon hit send.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My wife collapsed and is having trouble breathing. We’re at the Boston Public Library.”

“Hang up,” Juliette whispered.

Devon ended the call without hesitation, ignoring Franco’s protest. “What’s going on, Jules?”

“Poison.” Her eyes were closed, but she raised one hand, showing him the cuts on her fingers. The other hand was clenched around a sheet of paper.

Devon’s vision dimmed and his stomach rolled. He couldn’t lose her.

“Poison? What?” Franco headed for the door. “Call 911 back.”

Devon grabbed him, pushing him toward a table. “Set her down.”

There must have been something in his voice, something that let the other man know that he would not hesitate to kill if needed. Franco laid her on the table.

Devon leaned down so she wouldn’t have to speak above a whisper. “What else do I need to know?”

“Almonds.” In the light of the rare-book room, her skin was flushed as if she had a sunburn, her lips turning blue. Her breathing was ragged.

“I understand.” Devon wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her it would all be okay. He did none of that.

She seemed to relax, as if she trusted him to take care of her. Praying that was true, and praying he could save her, Devon dialed his phone.

“Hello, Alexis? This is Devon Asher. I need your help. Do you have a cyanide-poisoning kit?”

*****

“She knows.”

Devon ignored Franco and dropped into a chair in Michael’s office at Boston General Hospital. He wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore and he was exhausted. Franco was stripped down to his underwear, a blanket over his shoulders. They’d both handed over their clothes and showered as a precaution, in case there were trace amounts of the poison on them. Devon had borrowed a pair of scrubs and run back to his hotel then headed out to investigate. He hated being away from Juliette when she was ill, but he knew her well enough to know she’d want action, not useless waiting.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Shut up.” The words were too quiet for Franco to hear.

“I saw her face. She was heartbroken.”

“I said shut up.”

“No.”

Devon was too tired to stop himself. He exploded out of the chair, pinning Franco against the wall with his forearm across his throat.

“You have no right to question me. I’ve done my duty. My whole life I’ve done my duty. Juliette got to take a stand, to be idealistic. I didn’t.”

Franco was eerily calm, not resisting him in any way. Devon eased back. Franco grabbed his shoulder and flipped their positions, pinning
Devon
against the wall, the calm demeanor a ruse.

“If you loved her, you wouldn’t have used her.”

“Used her?” Devon closed his eyes. “What exactly does she know?”

“She knows you’re a CIA agent and that you’ve been using her for information without her knowledge.”

“Fuck.” This was worse than he’d imagined. Everything was spiraling out of control. “I hoped…I hoped she’d only figured out I was CIA.”

“If our marriage is going to work, you’re going to have to tell the truth.”

Devon opened one eye. “Our marriage?”

“I told her that the three of us should get married.”

Devon eased himself away from the wall, forcing Franco back a step. “I know how Juliette feels about the CIA and what I do. She made it very clear years ago. After last night, there might have been a way for us to reconcile, but now…” He swallowed, forcing his voice to remain level though it wanted to break from pain. “I’m sure you’ll be part of the trinity she eventually assigns herself, but I won’t be.”

“She loves you—she’s loved you for a long time.”

“According to her, it’s not love, it’s brainwashing.”

“Juliette doesn’t seem like the kind of person who can be brainwashed.”

That startled a laugh out of Devon. “No. She’s not.”

“I think that’s what makes her angry, what frightens her. She’s tried to talk herself out of loving you, and she can’t.”

“Franco…don’t. Please.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t give me hope.”

The door opened and Alexis stepped in. Her face was grim. As one, they turned to her.

“You were right, Devon. It’s cyanide poisoning.”

“Fuck,” Franco whispered.

“Will she be okay?”

“Yes. It wasn’t a huge dose and we got to her in time for the hydroxocobalamin to be effective.”

Both men sighed in relief. Juliette would be okay. Devon hadn’t taken a true deep breath since she’d whispered “almonds”, prompting him to inhale and realize she smelled like bitter almonds, the telltale sign of cyanide poison.

“How?” Devon needed answers.

“I’m not sure. I’ve only seen this kind of thing when it’s been inhaled. Usually cyanide poisoning is accidental and happens when there’s been a fire, particularly in a place with a lot of plastic. But you,” she gestured to Franco, “said you were with her. If you aren’t feeling sick, then it wasn’t inhaled, meaning it was either ingested or injected.”

“I brought something for you to test.” Devon took a bag from his pocket and held it out. In it was a gold pen he’d found on Juliette’s desk. “Be careful, it’s sharp, and it looks like there’s blood on it.”

Alexis held up the bag to examine the pen. “A poisoned pen? If it were coated in cyanide and she cut herself on it, that might be enough to transmit it.”

“I saw her sucking on her finger after she cut it, but that can’t be it.” Franco shook his head. “The pen was in the box I gave her.”

Devon bowed his head, giving himself a moment of respite. He reached into his coat. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Franco.

“Whoa! What the fuck?” Franco raised his hands in the universal “don’t shoot” posture. The blanket fell to the ground.

“Devon, is this necessary?” Alexis looked weary.

“Yes.” Devon held his phone in his other hand, ready to call for a cleanup crew. “His grandfather was a member, but never called to the altar. I’m thinking there was a reason for that.”

“Are you going to shoot me? Actually shoot me?”

“The fact that you’re asking makes me think you haven’t been paying attention. I will do
anything
to protect her.”

“You mean protect the Trinity Masters.”

Devon lowered his voice so only the two of them could hear. “Juliette
is
the Trinity Masters.”

“Devon. Stop.” Juliette’s voice was weak, but they reacted as if she’d yelled the command.

Devon’s whole body started to shake with relief when he saw her standing in the doorway. She seemed tiny in the too-large hospital gown that hung from her shoulders. Her skin was no longer flushed, her lips their normal color. If anything, she was pale, the dark circles under her eyes standing out.

“Juliette.”

Their gazes met. He expected to see anger. Expected her to rage and throw things. He’d lied to her. He’d had Sebastian help him get her email passwords so he could use the information she gathered for her humanitarian work to inform the CIA’s activities in the regions where she’d been. He’d been hoping to someday come clean and somehow make it okay once they were married.

Once she couldn’t get away.

He was such an ass.

“I’m sorry.” The words were heavy, conveying years of regret and missteps.

Juliette nodded. The anger he’d expected to see wasn’t there. “I know.” She seemed calm and in control. She seemed like the Grand Master.

Juliette turned to Franco. “Did you know?”

“Can you make him put down the gun?”

“Did you know?” Juliette’s tone didn’t change. She was like a stone—not necessarily unfeeling, but hard and immovable.

Franco seemed to sense the change. He lowered his hands a fraction as his gaze searched her face. “Did I know what?”

“Did you know about the poison?”

“No.”

“Alexis, please test the pen.”

“Of course. It will only take a second.”

When she left the room, the three of them stood in silence. Tension ebbed and flowed between them as if it were a living thing.

“Lower the gun, but don’t put it away.”

Devon dropped his arm to his side.

Franco lowered his hands. “Juliette, I didn’t know.”

“Either you truly
didn’t
know, or you’re a very skilled assassin.”

“Assassin? You don’t really think…I didn’t even know you existed until two weeks ago!”

“The Grand Master always risks assassination. Our secrets are kept but not absolute.” Devon spoke to Franco but he was looking at Juliette. “I spoke to Harrison and he told me about the attempt on his life. There are some who might not accept Juliette as the new Grand Master. They won’t know who she is, but there’s no hiding that she’s a woman.”