Chapter 1

Chapter One

F ranco wrapped his arms around the other man in an emotional embrace. "I missed you!"

"I missed you."

Behind Franco, his husband sighed loudly, while his wife asked, "Does he like Colum better than us?"

Franco ignored his spouses, pulling back to clap Colum on the back. The Masters' Admiralty archivist was one of his favorite people on the planet.

"How are you?" It came out as "How're'ya?" All one word with Colum's Irish accent. Then again, since they were in Dublin, Franco was the one with the accent.

"I'm good. Excited about this."

Colum grinned, though as always, there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. It was only recently that Colum had opened up to Franco about his grief and guilt over his sister Josephine's death, and Franco wished like hell he could do something more to help the Irishman.

"I like you better," Franco assured his spouses as he turned to them, while keeping one arm over Colum's shoulders. "I'm having sex with you two."

"And if we weren't having sex?" Devon's brow rose.

"I'd like him better." Franco tipped his head to Colum. "I only like you for your dick."

Colum choked on some spit and started sputtering. Devon sighed heavily, though the corner of his lips twitched, and the way his gaze raked down Franco promised some sexy retribution later.

"Don't kill my archivist," a deep voice said.

Juliette stiffened even as a small smile curved her lips. She wiped off the smile before turning to the fleet admiral, who was approaching them, his bodyguard at his side.

"Ah, this is always great craic ," Colum said, looking between the fleet admiral and Juliette.

"It is," Franco agreed. "My wife is hot when she's bossy and scary."

Colum snorted.

Eric Ericsson's long legs ate up the space between them, his steps echoing against the walls of the Long Room in the Trinity College Library.

With Juliette's back turned toward Franco, he was treated to a view of her backside. The dress she wore was looser than her normal style, so it didn't cup her butt, but Franco knew that ass very well, so he used his imagination. "She's hot all the time," Franco amended, mostly to himself. "Especially now."

He spoke without thinking, and if he'd been standing beside anyone but Colum, the comment probably would have passed without raising questions.

But Colum was curious by nature. A good quality in a person charged with cataloging information and keeping secrets.

"Especially now?" Colum asked.

"Uh… Oh look, they're doing that thing they do." Franco clapped his hand on Colum's shoulder and pulled the other man forward until they joined the loose circle that had formed. A meeting before a meeting.

Juliette, Devon, Eric, and Regina—the head of Eric's Spartan Guard—were gathered near a display of Oscar Wilde's handwritten letters.

Eric and Juliette stood on opposite sides of the ring, two titans facing off.

"Fleet Admiral." Juliette inclined her head.

"Grand Master." He mirrored the gesture.

Eric actually looked like a titan. He was head and shoulders taller than Juliette, even with the added height from her heels, broad shouldered, and heavily muscled. The rumor was that in the dark period after his wives died, he'd been a mercenary. Franco had a little trouble seeing it, as the Eric he knew and saw was quick to smile and laugh, clever and powerful, but not overtly dangerous.

Then again, he'd heard the story of head ripping from someone who'd been there, so he knew it was true, not apocryphal. Eric had ripped a man's head off with his bare hands. Franco had asked Juliette's sister-in-law, Alexis—a doctor—how much force that would take, but everyone had yelled at him not to ask stuff like that while they were eating, so he never got an answer.

It was the kind of thing he might have asked Colum, who enjoyed finding answers to odd questions. Except the headless man had been responsible for Josephine's death. While the man hadn't been the one to actually kill Colum's sister, he'd given the order.

Franco looked over to see that Colum's gaze was pinched, face lined by grief as he looked down the elongated central aisle of the famous Long Room. This was where they'd found Josephine's head—in a basket right here in the Trinity Library.

Shit. Franco should have insisted they meet at the Boston Public Library rather than allowing Colum to host it here. The problem was, Boston wasn't neutral territory, and Dublin was. Though Colum was the archivist for the Masters' Admiralty, technically he was neutral.

Still, maybe there was somewhere else on Trinity grounds where they could have this meeting…

"Hey, guys," Franco started, "maybe we should go somewhere?—"

Colum slapped a hand over Franco's mouth. "Quiet now. I want to hear this."

The haunted look had left his face, so Franco nodded, and Colum dropped his hand.

"I'm adding one more to my side," Eric said. "The Hungary admiral." Eric's eyelid twitched as he said it, and Regina closed her eyes for a moment before looking at the ceiling and sighing.

"No," Juliette countered. "The numbers were already in your favor because of Colum."

"I'm neutral," Colum protested.

Juliette looked at him, one brow raised. "Technically, but aren't you essentially Eric's adopted brother?"

"Er…" Colum shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Technically, neutral." Juliette faced Eric. "Practically, you obey Eric."

Eric snorted. "You must have a very different relationship with your siblings, if you think he'll do what I say because he's my little brother."

Devon smothered his amused laugh. Franco didn't bother. Juliette had a better relationship with her own brother now than she'd had when she first became Grand Master, but she felt no obligation to follow Harrison's lead or obey an order he gave.

"Fair point. We'll count Colum as neutral. That still leaves you with eight to my seven."

"Would it help if I told you one of the people coming currently hates me?"

Franco thought Eric meant that to be a joke, but there was something grim under the words.

"Mildly. Which one hates you?" Juliette asked.

"You'll be able to tell."

Now Regina snorted.

"Did we ever decide what to call this?" Colum asked. "This meeting?"

"Trinity Council," Juliette said.

"Masters Council," Eric countered. "We both have ‘Master' in our names. Masters' Admiralty. Trinity Masters."

"We're both built on trinities." Juliette raised one hand. "It's not my fault you chose ‘Masters' Admiralty' as a name when Trinity Masters makes more sense."

"That wasn't always our name," Colum said. "That's recent, post Admiral Lord Nelson. Before that, it was?—"

"Masters Council," Eric said, cutting off Colum with a sharp glance in his direction.

Franco slowly faced Colum, eyes wide and round. He needed to know what the Masters' Admiralty had originally been called. Not wanted to know. Needed to know.

"Colum, don't tell him," Eric said quickly.

"Franco, please find out," Juliette said with a smile.

"Ah feck," Colum muttered, avoiding Franco's gaze.

"Fleet Admiral, they're asking if they should come over," Regina said, checking the screen of her watch.

Eric looked at Juliette. "Last chance to back out."

Juliette turned to Devon. "Call in our people."

"Colum, we need another chair," Regina said, eyeing the two library tables that had been pushed together to form a conference table with fifteen chairs around it.

"Leave it with me." Colum scampered off to retrieve a sixteenth.

Franco debated following him and shaking the information out of his friend, but if there was one thing that could distract him from a secret, it was a book, and this was one of the most famous libraries in the world. Franco turned to the stacks as if pulled by a magnet.

Normally, there were display cases running down the center of the Long Room's main aisle. The tourists who came to see the library first went through the museum rooms that housed the Book of Kells and were then funneled through the Long Room. But Trinity College Dublin was a university first, and Colum had them close the Long Room early today for an "academic event." Some of the central aisle display cases had been rolled between the stacks, clearing space for the tables.

The afternoon sun poured in through the tall windows, and the room smelled like old paper and failing glue. Franco loved that smell. He drifted toward the bookstacks, which normally were roped off to stop tourists from browsing the collection of old, often one-of-a-kind tomes. He tipped his head to read spines, hands tucked in his pockets to help avoid the temptation to touch.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to start playing with the books."

Franco turned to his wife, who'd followed him between the stacks. He held out an arm and she came to him, tucking herself against his side. Franco wrapped an arm around her, resting his splayed hand over her belly.

Juliette made a happy noise, but then turned so her back was to the aisle and she was facing the window. The massive bookcases in the Long Room stuck out perpendicularly from the exterior walls, meaning the two of them weren't exactly hidden from the aisle.

And Juliette wasn't ready to announce her pregnancy yet.

They'd made it through the first trimester this time, and it finally looked like they had a pregnancy that would last long enough to become an actual baby. They'd had a hard time getting pregnant, and she'd suffered two miscarriages. Fertility issues had eaten at Juliette, and the guilt of thinking maybe one of the beatings she'd endured last year was at fault had nearly killed Devon. All that added to her stress, which in turn made everything harder. Franco had held them together, his love enough to tether both Juliette and Devon, even as his own heart was breaking for her.

Franco slid one hand between them, molding her dress to the sweet bump. It wouldn't be long before she couldn't hide it. The only reason she was able to now was that being pregnant had made her breasts huge, so the straight-cut dress was sized to fit her seriously impressive rack, making it loose everywhere else.

"Franco."

"Hmm?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring at my tits."

"They're just so big," he breathed. "Remember that time you almost smothered me with them? Perfect way to die."

"Franco!" But Juliette was laughing helplessly.

"I bet Colum would let us have sex in here, after the meeting."

"Is having sex while surrounded by really old books a secret fantasy you haven't told us about?"

"I don't think it's a secret," Devon said in a low voice as he joined them. "Remember the time we fucked in the rare books room and two members of the trinity we'd called to the altar almost walked in on us?"

"Yes, but these books are older than the ones we have," Franco breathed, eyeing Juliette as he planned where he'd put his mouth first. Obviously her tits, but did he start with the right or the left?

"We're about to have a tense, dangerous meeting," Juliette reminded him.

"I know. I said after," Franco protested.

Devon's phone chimed. "Our people are here. Try to keep it in your pants, Franco."

"But old books…" He dropped his hand from Juliette's belly.

She was smiling as she tugged on her dress, making sure it didn't cling to the telltale bump, and turned to leave the stacks.

Colum had added a chair and put out place cards. One was just a sticky note rather than a fancy placard. As Franco passed it, he glanced over.

Nikolett.

The library doors opened, and footsteps echoed softly the way they should in a place like this. Two groups appeared at the end of the aisle. The first contingent was theirs—members of the Trinity Masters.

Rose and Sebastian were in the lead. Rose was Juliette's former betrothed and current counselor, and Sebastian was Juliette's best friend and another of her counselors. Both of them knew where the bodies were buried. With Rose, that wasn't metaphorical.

Behind them were Marek and Owen.

Marek was here because he'd grown up in the Masters' Admiralty, though he'd never been a member. He could provide context for—and possibly pick up on subtleties hidden in—things said by the Masters' Admiralty delegation. He was also Rose's husband, and though no one had said it out loud, he was also here to hold her back if shit went sideways. The instant Rose reached for an earring, he'd grab her.

Owen wasn't someone Franco knew well, but the FBI agent was co-leader of the Masters Protection Force, the inter-society task force formed years ago in response to a joint threat. In many ways, the creation of the MPF had been the precursor to this meeting.

Instead of taking their seats, the Trinity Masters delegation gathered behind Juliette, a silent show of force.

It was dramatic and looked cool as hell.

Had they planned that? Franco needed to compliment whoever's idea that was.

Behind them came the Masters' Admiralty delegation.

Sophia and her husband Arthur were in front. Franco knew Sophia well because she'd stepped in as interim fleet admiral when Eric went AWOL hunting Josephine's killer.

Arthur was the admiral of England, and his prosthetic arm looked state of the art. Unlike the Trinity Masters, which was one large society, the Masters' Admiralty was nine territories, with names and borders that only made sense if you looked at very old maps. Eric, as the fleet admiral, was in charge of all of them, but the territories operated essentially autonomously.

Behind him were two more admirals. Franco knew them, thanks to the pre-meeting intelligence briefing Marek had given everyone.

Antonio was the admiral of Rome, which encompassed modern-day Italy and everything that bordered the Adriatic and Ionian seas. He was also Sophia's brother.

Hande was the Ottoman admiral, her territory mostly modern-day Turkey but also the coastline of the Black Sea, giving her small pieces of Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine, and even Russia.

Behind them were the final two members of the meeting.

Percy was a knight in England's territory, and Owen's co-chair on the MPF. Franco couldn't express how much he loved that the men and women who held the knight positions in England took on the names of the Knights of the Round Table. Arthur had been Tristan when he was a knight, before he became admiral.

The last person to enter was a woman who hadn't been mentioned in Marek's briefing.

Marek was whispering something in Juliette's ear, so Franco leaned toward Colum.

"That's Nikolett, admiral of Hungary?" Though she hadn't been discussed since she wasn't on the original list, Marek had gone over the leadership information for each territory, with pictures. The blonde woman was lovely, but memorable for the sharp intelligence in her gaze, not the placement of her features.

"Sure enough."

"And she and Eric…"

"I don't think I'm supposed to know that, and I know I wasn't meant to tell you," Colum said in a near-frantic whisper.

According to Colum, Eric and Nikolett had a thing . Apparently, when Eric had been in a blind berserker rage after finding the person who'd killed Josephine, Nikolett's touch had been the only thing that could bring him back from the edge. Colum also thought something had happened more recently because when they talked last month, Colum had said Eric was being a "fecking muppet."

Given the way Eric watched Nikolett, while she ignored him, Franco agreed that there was something going on there.

The Masters' Admiralty contingent gathered awkwardly around the table, not exactly presenting a united front. Score one for team Trinity Masters.

"I think you have to say something," Franco whispered to Colum.

"Ah, feck."

"You're the host."

"But I hate people."

Franco clapped him on the shoulder. "I know you do."

Colum took a deep breath, looked around, and said, "Well, sits down, why don't 'cha."

Okay, not exactly the dramatic or elegant intro Franco had been hoping for, but it worked.

Eric smiled at Colum, shaking his head as he circled around to hold out Hande's chair. Arthur held Sophia's. With Hande seated, Eric moved to hold Nikolett's chair, but she and Regina pulled out their own chairs.

Marek and Devon did the gentlemanly thing for Rose and Juliette, then took their seats.

Franco was seated toward the middle, beside Colum. Directly across from Colum was an empty space that divided Nikolett from Owen. The symbolism was clear—Colum sat in the true neutral position on this side of the table, with no one else able to occupy that space on the other side.

But, if this meeting went well…

Regina sat to Eric's right, her chair half turned so she could see the library entrance and could jump up from the table without scooting out her chair. The Masters' Admiralty was providing security for this meeting, the rest of the fleet admiral's Spartan Guard outside posing as tourists and students.

The likelihood that they'd be attacked was minimal. But not zero. The grim reality was that they were never truly safe.

Franco looked at his pregnant wife and his stomach tightened.

Colum sighed, then leaned in, looking left then right. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Trinity Council."

Eric sighed heavily, and Juliette smiled.

"Trinity Council?" Hande said with a raised brow. "You plan to make this a regular occurrence?"

"It's possible," Juliette said. "And I believe congratulations are in order, Admiral?"

Hande sat back. "Yes, I just got married."

Eric pointed at Marek. "Your grandmother is a problem."

Marek's grandmother, Jane Dell, was, from what Franco could figure out, the basis for James Bond, and though technically retired, still incredibly well connected and well informed. Marek was her favorite grandchild, which meant she fed him a steady diet of information about what was happening "across the pond."

Marek was entirely unruffled. "Are you planning to tell her that?"

"No, she's terrifying." Eric looked completely serious.

At that, Marek smiled.

Eric sat back. "You want to start us, Grand Master?"

"No, by all means, please go first, Fleet Admiral," Juliette said graciously.

Eric cleared his throat, his gaze briefly touching everyone at the table. Except Nikolett.

Oh yeah, they had a thing .

"The purpose of this meeting is twofold. First, we're here to strengthen the relationship between the Masters' Admiralty and the Trinity Masters. Second, Juliette and I decided it's time to go on the offensive."

Percy and Owen exchanged a look.

"And who are we being offensive at?" Hande asked, the grammar not quite right, but the question was still clear.

"For the past several years," Juliette said, "both societies have essentially been under siege, thanks to an ongoing series of attacks and threats."

Franco had to look down. The memory of almost losing Juliette and Devon was still fresh, though it had been nearly a year since they were kidnapped. Sometimes at night, he still woke up and had to touch them to make sure they were there.

And sometimes Juliette was the one who woke up. And when that happened, she woke up screaming.

Thankfully, it had been mostly quiet since then, and they'd been able to send out the Warrior Scholars to take care of the few issues that had cropped up. Most of the past year had been spent recruiting, calling people to the altar, and combing their records to make sure there weren't any more nasty surprises hiding in their past.

That last one was something Franco and Colum had discussed. Again, if this meeting went well…

"There are some outstanding enemies who haven't been fully dealt with," Eric added.

"And a few potential enemies we could work together to eliminate before they become a threat." Juliette's tone was cold and resolute. Franco wasn't sure if she'd have agreed to do something this aggressive before she'd been kidnapped and tortured.

"You're suggesting we murder people who might be a problem?" Antonio's tone was neutral. Franco had no idea if he was horrified or impressed.

"Eliminating a threat doesn't have to involve murder," Juliette said.

"We already have the Masters Protection Force." Eric gestured to Percy and Owen. "But instead of calling them in after everything has gone to shit, we're going to give them targets and let them do what they do best."

"Sounds like you have it all planned," Nikolett said. "Is this meeting just for show? So you can spread the blame if something goes wrong?" She gestured to everyone sitting around the table.

A muscle in Eric's jaw flexed. "Nikolett."

"Yes, Fleet Admiral?"

Eric sat back, gripping the arms of the chair so hard, Franco worried he'd snap them off.

"You're here," Juliette said, when Eric didn't speak, "to help us add to the list of current or potential enemies, as well as prioritize who and what we send the MPF after first."

Nikolett ripped her attention off Eric and looked at Juliette. After a minute, Nikolett nodded, sitting back in her chair.

"Also, this council will serve as a forum for any issues involving members of both societies." Juliette quickly explained a recent corporate acquisition bidding war that unknowingly involved companies owned by members on both sides of the Atlantic. Some light corporate espionage had almost outed both trinities, and Juliette had reached out to Sophia to broker a private meeting between affected parties.

"Thank you again to Sophia for your help," Juliette concluded, and Sophia inclined her head.

Eric leaned forward, forearms braced on the edge of the table. "So, where do we want to start?"

There was a beat of silence. No one wanted to speak first.

Franco cleared his throat. "We have a sort of new but also old problem. New because we just found out about it. It's not a fun multibook plotline problem, more of a standalone thing, but we'd need help from the Masters' Admiralty to figure it out."

Franco looked briefly at Juliette, who nodded for him to continue.

"One of our members just passed away. He was the last one alive of his trinity. They were married for fifty years." Franco had to stop and swallow. He hoped someday someone would be able to say that about himself, Juliette, and Devon. "The trinity had no children, so the estate passed to his great-nephew. When his nephew was sorting through the estate, he found blackmail letters and pictures."

Eric was frowning, watching him intently, while others looked at him with mild interest or curiosity.

"The photos were taken forty-five years ago at a resort on the Black Sea."

"Forty-five years?" Arthur's brows rose. "The man paid blackmail for forty-five years?"

"Yes. We had a forensic accountant go through his finances and recent payments were made to a Swiss bank account, but before that, we think he was mailing traveler's checks."

"The photos are of the trinity in an intimate moment?" Sophia guessed.

"Yes. Our member was a highly ranked officer in the military," Juliette said. "The photos show him with his wives, and his wives together. Not that anyone knew he was married to both of them."

"Adultery is taken seriously within the U.S. armed forces. And homosexuality?" Devon shook his head. "Attitudes may have improved somewhat, but there are other members of his family who are current active members of the military. It wasn't just his reputation at stake."

"So he paid to protect himself and his descendants," Eric said.

Hande's expression was suspiciously calm. "Do you know where on the Black Sea?" Her question was too casual to actually be casual.

"It was a resort in Crimea," Devon said.

Hande grimaced.

Eric pointed at Hande. "What's with the face?"

"There's an issue in my territory that seems…similar," she said slowly.

"Your territory." Nikolett took a deep breath. "Crimea, and the rest of the Ukrainian and Romanian coastline, should be part of Hungary."

"They're not." Hande smiled at Nikolett.

Nikolett smiled back.

Colum scooted his chair closer to Franco's and away from Hande. Around the table, other people tensed, that heavy silence of anticipation blanketing all of them.

"Explain," Eric demanded. "Not your border dispute. Hande's thing."

"Fifty years ago," Hande said slowly, "a member of the Ottoman territory bought a resort on the water in Crimea. There were other resorts in the area, and most of the visitors were wealthy Russians. Not that there should have been wealthy Russians at the time. But our members' resort was a little different. It catered to members of our society."

"It was poly-friendly?" Owen asked, taking notes on a small tablet.

"Yes. Only members of our society, or those with similar tastes, were allowed to stay there. Usually guests sailed from Istanbul, the cruise part of the appeal of the trip. They'd dock at the resort, stay for a week, then sail home."

Hande sighed. "It took some time for my predecessor to find out that almost every trinity that visited there received blackmail pictures once they returned home."

"How many people are we talking about?" Antonio asked.

"Nearly forty trinities over the course of several years. There may have been more."

Antonio said something in Italian that definitely had to be a curse.

"I assume people stopped going there?" Eric was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes. Once he knew about it, the admiral at the time forbade anyone else from going, and the owner closed the resort, then several years later sold the property."

"Did the janissaries at the time figure out who the blackmailer was?" Owen asked.

"No," Hande said. "A failure by my territory, but without actually going there to investigate, it was difficult."

"And they've all been paying this whole time?" Percy asked.

"No. After the coup in Turkey, no one paid. That was a…difficult time for our members. If the letters with the demands did get through, they were ignored."

There was a beat of silence before Eric said, "Colum, summary."

Colum sat forward, staring into middle space. "A woman from Ottoman opens a resort in Crimea designed for trinities. The guests are mostly from Ottoman, but other like-minded people visit, including an American trinity. Someone, most likely a staff member at the resort, takes pictures of the trinities, and uses those to blackmail guests once they get home. It takes a couple years for everyone to confess to the Ottoman admiral what's going on. The owner shuts down the resort, but before they can go in and find the blackmailer, Kenan Evren leads a coup in Turkey, and blackmail is the least of anyone's problems.

"Most likely the blackmailer figures out that his Turkish victims aren't viable payers anymore, but he still has the Americans. He or she continues to blackmail the Americans, meaning that either the blackmailer was young at the time they took the photos, enabling him to keep up the blackmail for forty-five years, or the blackmail scheme was inherited by someone who wasn't actually there for the initial photographing."

Franco nodded in appreciation of Colum's summary of the situation, sprinkled with logical conclusions such as the blackmailer being a staff member at the resort.

"There's more," Hande said grimly.

"Of course there is." Eric scrubbed his face with one hand.

"It happened again. Recently."

"Fuck."

Franco wasn't sure who said it first because multiple people muttered the curse at the same time.

"The resort—remodeled, updated, and under a different name—has been reopened. Three members of my territory, all Turkish citizens, went to the resort recently and when they returned, received a blackmail letter. They elected not to pay because they are powerful. Safe enough because of that. Plus, they could claim the photo was manipulated."

"So the blackmailer, either first or second generation, is still at the resort and looking for trinities." Sophia spoke slowly, clearly thinking it through.

"There's more," Hande said again.

Eric folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them. That elicited a small chuckle from almost everyone that faded quickly when Hande spoke.

"When they didn't pay, the blackmailer sent the demand to me."

It took a minute for the ramifications to process, but once they did, there was a collective inhale.

"The blackmailer knows about the Masters' Admiralty," Colum said solemnly. "Knows not just that the society exists but about the structure and leadership. They knew their victims were members of the Ottoman territory, as well as who the Ottoman admiral is and how to contact her." Colum gestured at Hande.

"We're working on it," Hande said quickly. "But none of my current security officers speak fluent Russian."

"It sounds like this is a good first task," Juliette said before Hande could counter. "But maybe not for the full MPF. Our member, the victim's great-nephew, wants to be a part of any investigation," Juliette cut in.

"Does he speak Russian?" Nikolett countered.

"No."

Nikolett frowned. "Sending an American into Crimea right now is a bad idea."

A few people stiffened, but Franco just smiled at his wife, who furrowed her brow in mock confusion. "Is it? Why? Please explain it to me. Possibly using small words."

Nikolett's gaze narrowed.

"Our man can go in on an academic visa," Devon said. "There are sites in Crimea that relate to his field of study."

"You want to send an academic to investigate?" Antonio asked in disbelief.

Arthur laughed softly, surprising everyone. "I'll tell James you said that. And Karl."

Antonio winced. "Please forget I said that."

Franco wondered who James and Karl were. He would ask Colum about it later.

"He's not unprepared for something like this. The academic we want to send in is retired Lieutenant Commander Montana Kingston, formerly of the USS Monterey , a Florida-class sub," Devon said in a flat voice.

Eric and Sophia exchanged a glance.

"There's no such thing as a Florida-class submarine," Sophia said slowly.

Devon just smiled. If his former employer knew he'd just casually name-dropped the top-secret submarine Montana had served on, Devon's ass would be in Guantanamo Bay.

"Bloody hell." Arthur tapped the fingers of his prosthetic hand on the table.

"So your man is skilled and dangerous." Eric sat back.

"He's a member of our strike team," Devon agreed.

They actually called the group of former military badasses turned nerds the Warrior Scholars, but when compared to something like the "Spartan Guard," the name didn't sound all that cool or dangerous. "Strike team" was a better way to describe them in this situation.

The Warrior Scholars were all attending graduate school in Boston and lived in a shared house owned by the Trinity Masters. When Juliette needed something taken care of, the Warrior Scholars were who she sent.

When Montana came to them with evidence of what his great-uncle had been going through for half his life, he'd looked ready to either cry or murder someone. Montana wanted revenge for his family.

"We already have plans in place to send in both Montana and one other person to investigate," Juliette said through a smile that showed a lot of teeth. "Dahlia McKean."

"Dahlia," Eric murmured softly.

Colum shot a concerned glance in Eric's direction before catching Franco's stare.

"Tell you later," Colum mouthed.

"Tell me now."

"Dahlia was the name of one of Eric's wives who died."

"Ah." Franco's heart hurt for the fleet admiral. Losing one spouse would be hard enough, but losing both?

Unfortunately, Franco had experience with that level of devastation when Devon and Juliette had been kidnapped. Prior to his spouses being taken, Franco had witnessed Devon being shot in the chest. He'd spent weeks fearing he'd lost them both and it had nearly destroyed him.

"Dahlia McKean…why do I know that name?" Percy muttered.

"She makes travel videos that are almost like mini documentaries. Has her own very popular channel. She's famous for going places most people either can't or won't, and documenting her experiences," Juliette responded.

"‘Don't Follow Me'," Percy said, smiling a little as he said the name of her channel. "I love her stuff."

"She's arranged to visit Crimea, at our request," Juliette said. "That way Montana isn't going in totally alone, plus, Dahlia speaks fluent Russian. Her mother was a diplomat."

Eric looked at Juliette. "You were planning to go in and investigate without ever mentioning it to me?"

"Yet here we are, sharing information in good faith. And it seems to me that if I hadn't said anything, you, Eric, wouldn't know that you have a very serious problem. This blackmailer knows too much about your society."

"You're right." Eric shot Hande a look. "Okay, the Crimean blackmailer is the first official opp of the Trinity Council."

Ha! He'd said Trinity Council. It did make more sense than Masters Council.

" The Crimean Blackmailer would be a good title for a book," Colum murmured.

"Espionage or mystery?" Franco asked.

Colum hummed, then said, "Murder mystery."

"Agreed."

Percy cleared his throat. "Do you still want the MPF in charge?"

Eric nodded. "Yes. Assign one of our MPF people to go with them."

"Them?" Percy looked from Eric to Juliette. "Both Americans?"

Eric sighed. "The Trinity Masters is several steps ahead of us, planning-wise, so we go with it and don't reinvent the wheel. Hande, get all your information on the blackmail to Owen and Percy."

"Yes, Fleet Admiral. And Sidika Arslan, one of my security officers, is a member of the MPF."

"Does she speak Russian?"

Hande grimaced. "No, Fleet Admiral."

Eric looked at Nikolett.

"Vadisk is a member of the MPF and one of my security officers. He speaks Ukrainian fluently, and his Russian is good."

Eric's gaze lingered on Nikolett for a moment, before switching to Juliette. It looked like he had to tear his attention away from Nikolett, his head turning even as his eyes stayed locked on her until the last second.

"Grand Master, does that work for you?" Eric asked.

"Yes, we send in a team of three. A trinity." Juliette blinked, something clearly having just occurred to her.

After a second of consideration, Franco knew what she was going to say next.

"There was a time," Juliette said slowly, "when each of my newly formed trinities was given a task."

Eric's brows rose.

"Our marriages are a little different," Juliette went on. "Our trinities meet, and then have a month before they come back to get married. Sometimes, I give them a task to complete during that time. Those trinities are some of the strongest in our society."

Nikolett sucked in an audible breath.

"Are you proposing we arrange a marriage?" Eric asked.

"I think it's worth considering. We're sending a trinity. And this would be an opportunity to test the other thing we talked about, Fleet Admiral."

Franco could feel Colum looking at him, so he slanted the other man a glance that promised he'd fill him in later, since it seemed like Juliette and Eric weren't ready to make it public.

"No," Nikolett said, sounding alarmed. "Vadisk is mine."

Eric ignored the Hungary admiral, still looking at Juliette. "What would we tell them when we arrange the marriage?"

"We tell them that, once their task is done, they choose where they'll live." Juliette was picking each word with care.

Eric grinned and sat back, arms folded. "We arrange a marriage, give the new trinity a task, and when they're done, they decide where they live and which society they're members of going forward."

"Eric, no!" Nikolett slashed a hand through the air. "It would be two against one, and Vadisk will be forced to switch to the Trinity Masters."

"Not necessarily," Juliette said.

Nikolett was watching Eric. "Vadisk is not yours to marry off."

Eric's jaw clenched. "I'm the fleet admiral."

"Fine. Vadisk is already promised." Nikolett raised her chin. "To two other people in my territory. I just hadn't told you yet."

"I have veto rights over all marriages," Eric said in a low, warning voice. "So if you weren't lying, which you are, then I veto Vadisk's marriage."

Nikolett bared her teeth. "I need Vadisk."

"Admiral." Eric's voice was like the rumble of thunder.

Nikolett's jaw clenched, but she inclined her head once and then sat back in her chair. Franco and Colum exchanged a glance, and then Franco looked to his spouses, who were watching the Masters' Admiralty power struggle the way cats watch birds.

The tension broke when Juliette rose to her feet. "Let's call Vadisk, Montana, and Dahlia and congratulate them on their upcoming nuptials. Then give them their assignment."