Hidden Devotion (Trinity Masters #5)(46)

“It says something along the lines of ‘decode this and bring the answers to Boston’.”

“Meaning my grandfather was supposed to find and read the letter.”

“Yes.”

Franco shook his head. “Then why wouldn’t he have opened the box?”

“And why would there be a poisoned pen inside?” Devon asked.

“That’s what we’re going to figure out.” Juliette stood. “The gala is in two days.”

“We should wait until you’re better.” Devon didn’t like the idea of her facing down the assembled Trinity Masters while still recovering.

“We can’t wait. You know that.”

“Can I have the letter?” Franco looked at Devon—more specifically, at the gun.

Juliette nodded and Devon lowered the gun as Alexis returned.

“The pen tested positive. I know you’re going to want it back to study it, but it’s too dangerous.” Alexis looked grim. “I’ll handle disposal. Devon, Franco, if you feel any shortness of breath, you need to head immediately to the emergency room.”

“Thank you, Alexis,” Devon said.

“That cyanide was weak—if it had been full strength you could have been in serious trouble. Most likely the reason you got sick is because you sucked on your finger when you cut it. Do you want me to call Harrison?” Alexis picked up Juliette’s wrist as she spoke, checking her pulse.

“No. I can handle this.”

Alexis nodded, but she looked worried. “You have to rest. You might feel okay right now, but that’s probably adrenaline. I have a private room set up for you. When you’re done here, come to my office and I’ll take you to a room where no one will bother you.”

“I’m going to go home.”

“No, you’re not. You’re at least going to spend the night in the hospital. You were poisoned.”

Juliette looked poised to protest then seemed to deflate. “Okay. Thanks, Alexis.”

Once Alexis left, Juliette gave Franco the letter before she, too, turned to leave.

“Juliette, wait.”

She paused, turned back to him, and Devon got a horrible sense of deja vu.

“I need time, Devon. Just need time.”

Then she was gone, leaving Devon standing with a gun dangling from his hand, Franco frowning down at the crumpled paper.

Franco looked up. “What are we going to do?”

“We? I just held a gun on you.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t shoot me.”

“Usually I’m a fan of ask-questions-later, except when it comes to shooting people.”

“Hard to torture information out of someone when they’re dead.”

“True.”

“That was supposed to be a joke.”

Devon shrugged, but he was biting back a smile.

“Fucking CIA.” Franco frowned at the letter. “I need lemons. Where would I find lemons?”

“Come on. I’ll help you.”

“Can I have some pants first?”

Devon laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Everything about his life was serious and dramatic. Someone like Franco, who could take even the direst situation and add a note of sometimes unintentional comedy, was wonderful.

“First pants. Then lemons.”

*****

The reality of it didn’t hit her until late that night. Juliette jerked awake, clawing at her throat, the memory of the poison-induced strangulation enough to have her crying out.

Arms came around her, comforting and cradling her.

“Devon?”

“I’m here, Jules.”

“Franco?”

“Shh, you’re safe, querida.”

The hospital bed wasn’t big enough for them to join her, but they held her hands, stroked her arms. Protected on either side, Juliette fell back to sleep.





Chapter Thirteen




It was too risky for Juliette to go back to the house on Winthrop Square, since the other legacies were arriving in advance of the gala. Devon upgraded his room to a suite and took her to his hotel once Alexis okayed her to leave the hospital on Friday afternoon. Devon made sure she was comfortable and left once she was happily chowing down on room service. By the time he came back, she was once more asleep.

Franco showed up, suitcase in hand, a few hours later. He was taking the other bedroom in the suite. They spent the day working, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Progress was frustratingly slow, but Devon was glad he wasn’t trying to do this alone. Franco had taken on the task of checking through the mountains of paperwork in the Grand Master’s office for clues. He hadn’t come up with anything, at least not yet, but they were eliminating possibilities. As the day went on, Devon was increasingly sure that this hadn’t been a circuitous attempt on Juliette’s life.

He was glad he had something to do. She’d been sick, but it rattled him that Juliette hadn’t exploded in anger when she saw him. He was dreading the conversation they were going to have when she woke up.

Near midnight, Franco rose and stretched. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow I’m going to call my father. Maybe he’ll remember something about the box.”

“Fair enough.” Devon rubbed the back of his neck and closed his laptop.