Power’s Fall (Trinity Masters: The Spaniard #1)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

V adisk and Dahlia lifted their heads at the sound of Montana’s voice as he entered the kitchen the next morning.

“What are you two up to?”

Dahlia pierced Montana with a look that made Vadisk want to laugh. Their wife was fierce for such a slight person. She was probably tall by most standards—he thought everyone was short—but standing between him and Montana, who were both taller, but also far broader and muscled, she seemed small, almost diminutive.

Her attitude was anything but shrinking. She was fearless and confident. He suspected she would keep both himself and Montana on their toes in this marriage.

“We’re adjusting our itinerary,” she said sternly.

Montana frowned, confusion marring his features. “I thought today was palace day.”

“It is,” she said, tapping her finger at her laptop screen. “It’s the rest of the itinerary that’s problematic.”

Montana glanced over her shoulder and sighed when he realized what she was pointing to. He gave them a rueful grin. “You don’t have to change your plans for me.”

“We shouldn’t have to change them at all,” Dahlia said firmly. “You should have said something when I was setting all of this up.”

She’d already been awake this morning when Vadisk came downstairs, scrolling through the rest of their itinerary. None of them were holding out much hope on an interview with Sinaver, which meant—until they came up with another approach or lead—they would have to continue visiting different parts of Crimea while filming for her channel. The itinerary had been set by the time he was added to this mission, since it had taken months of negotiation for Dahlia to get the rights to visit and film some of the locations on the list.

At the start, Vadisk had been determined to get in, get what they needed, and get the hell out. When he’d first learned of the Trinity Masters’ cover story for the three of them, he’d actually pictured long, boring days trekking all over the countryside and constantly looking over his shoulder.

True, he was definitely looking over his shoulder every time they left the villa, but what he hadn’t expected was to enjoy the time the three of them spent adventuring around. He’d had a genuinely good time hiking the Golitsyn trail, doing the wine tasting at Massandra, and even his small existential crisis on what it meant to be human at Buran-Kaya III.

Last night, he’d done a bit of research on the Vorontsov Palace, today’s destination, mainly so he could contribute to the conversations. He was constantly amazed by Dahlia’s insights and Montana’s intelligence. Especially now that he knew Montana was some sort of computer genius.

By comparison, he felt as if he had very little to add to their observations…of the sea, the mountainside, the wine-making process, and about a thousand other little things that he’d never even freaking heard of.

He was glad he’d done the research because he was looking forward to walking around the museum and the surrounding reserve more than he would have expected. To be honest, history shit usually bored him, but not with his spouses. Somehow, they had a way of bringing things to life in a way that sparked his curiosity and interest. He liked seeing things through Dahlia and Montana’s eyes.

While he didn’t consider himself a stupid person, school was something he’d endured rather than embraced as a child, preferring to be outdoors playing football, he and his mates all huge Dynamo Kyiv fans.

“I’m sorry, Dahlia. As I said last night, I…” Montana rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. That was when Vadisk noticed the dark circles under his husband’s eyes. It appeared Montana hadn’t been able to sleep last night either.

He wasn’t surprised by that. Montana had opened up a vein, allowing too many years of pain to bleed out in front of them. He was touched by Montana’s trust, but Vadisk couldn’t imagine it had been easy for him to do.

Hell, Vadisk had struggled to sleep, disturbed by the shit Montana had been asked to do. As if there wasn’t enough bad crap happening in the world to keep him up at night.

“Montana—” Dahlia started.

“You were uncomfortable telling us about your claustrophobia,” Vadisk replied for him.

Montana nodded. “I was. I really was worried…”

“How we’d feel about you,” Vadisk finished.

“I didn’t let myself hope that the two of you would be as understanding as you were.”

Vadisk turned to Dahlia. “That makes sense, Sonechko .”

Dahlia softened a little when he used the term of endearment he’d given her. Vadisk had never called any woman by a pet name, never felt compelled to. However, the name fit Dahlia perfectly, as she’d brought light into a life he wouldn’t have called dark before he’d met her and Montana.

“I understand that, but still, you could have just said you were claustrophobic!” Dahlia threw her hands up as she pointed to the screen again.

“Yeah, well, if there’s one thing I inherited from my dad, it’s too much pride. He pounded into my head from a young age that I should never reveal weakness. I know it’s a shitty lesson, but it took.”

Dahlia was only slightly appeased. “Mmm-hmm. And how the hell did you think you were going to get through the tour of the decommissioned Soviet sub base?”

Montana lifted one shoulder casually, trying to disarm their wife with his charming smile while dragging the back of his fingers fondly along the side of her arm. “I made sure it was one of the last things on the list. I was hoping we would get the information and leave early before we got to that.”

Dahlia wasn’t amused. “And the underwater museum at Cape Tarkhankut?”

“I was going to feign a headache and stay in the lobby.” Montana’s reply was so quick, Vadisk realized he’d given a great deal of thought to his escape plans regarding their claustrophobia-inducing itinerary.

“And Tsarsky Kurgan?” Dahlia added.

Montana sighed heavily, and Vadisk could see just how much stress their plans had been causing him. “I was hoping that the Greek archway entry wasn’t as long and tight as it appeared in the pictures.”

Vadisk shook his head. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to worry about these tours in addition to all the other things we’re dealing with here.”

Montana dismissed Vadisk’s words with a wave of his hand. “I did it to myself. I should have told you. I just…couldn’t.”

Dahlia reached out, taking Montana’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Well, it’s all gone now.” Turning to her laptop, she deleted every activity that was certain to trigger Montana’s claustrophobia. “We can add in that Glade of Fairy Tales in Yalta that you were so quick to dismiss when I brought it up during one of our video chats, Montana.”

Vadisk groaned, pretending to be annoyed by that addition more than he was. “I think you might be disappointed. Slavic folk tales are twisted and dark as fuck.”

Dahlia laughed as she added it to their itinerary. “I’m counting on it.”

Now it was Montana’s turn to look guilty. “I don’t want the two of you missing out on things because of me. Dahlia, you’ve made a career out of documenting places most people will never get to see. That list shouldn’t be limited because of my stupid?—”

“It’s not stupid,” Vadisk interjected.

“And there are countless other places in Crimea I can film,” Dahlia reassured him. “And if we get somewhere, and I can’t get permission to film, we can still enjoy ourselves.”

“But what about needing to stick to the official itinerary so we don’t draw suspicion?” Montana was clearly determined not to let them change in order to make him comfortable.

“We’re already off because of yesterday, and now that we know our blackmailer might be the Minister of the Interior, it’s safe to say we’ve already drawn suspicion.”

Montana’s sigh was resigned. “Okay.”

“For today, we’ll start with the palace.”

“That’s fine, but what about after Crimea?” Montana asked. “You’re going to continue to travel after we complete this mission, right?”

Dahlia nodded, but slowly and after a brief pause. This was the closest any of them had come to the “what happens next” talk since Vadisk’s asshole assumption he would have to move to the States.

“‘Don’t Follow Me’ is my life. Would you want to come with me?”

Vadisk nodded immediately. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Hell would freeze over before he’d let his wife traipse all over the world alone. Most of the places she traveled were damn dangerous.

Shit.

He hadn’t really considered that aspect of their future. He was nervous enough with her here, anxiously waiting the time when they could get the hell out of Crimea, when he could get her back to safety. Now, he could see this wouldn’t be the end of it at all, given her career.

Montana was slower to reply to her question. “It would depend on my dissertation. I’ve just begun work on it. So for the next year, year and a half, I’ll be focused on that. But…yes, I would like to travel with the two of you.”

“I’d like to keep traveling,” Dahlia said after an awkwardly quiet moment. “For as long as I can. To be honest, I’m not sure how many more years that will be. My night vision is already…failing.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder, her gaze locked on her laptop screen. Vadisk could tell, like Montana, it was difficult for her to talk about the things that caused her pain. Her blindness was just as hard a subject for her as Montana’s claustrophobia was for him.

Vadisk hated seeing both of them so low. This was the beginning of their marriage, and so far,it had been nothing but stress and sadness and bickering since day one.

Well, not today.

Today, they were taking a fucking break from all of that and having some goddamn fun.

“Let’s go,” Vadisk said. “Get dressed and I’ll call for a driver to take us to Alupka. I was doing some research last night, and I think you’re going to get some great footage, Sonechko . I also think there are enough artifacts in the museums to keep a nerd occupied, Montana.”

“Hey,” Montana objected, even though he was smiling widely.

His upbeat tone seemed to have broken the heaviness surrounding them, as Dahlia rose, laughing. “You’re a total nerd, Montana. Might as well embrace it.”

“After that, if there’s time, why don’t we head into Sevastopol and stroll down Primorsky Boulevard. Good shops and restaurants,” Vadisk added. “We can eat dinner there instead of ordering room service again.”

Dahlia nodded enthusiastically. “I think that all sounds wonderful.”

“Me too,” Montana agreed.

Several hours later, they were walking along one of the more secluded paths in the thirty hectares surrounding Vorontsov Palace. Dahlia had filmed countless sites around the park, Montana and Vadisk taking turns with the camera as she talked about various points of interest and gave historical context. After the last shot, she packed up her camera, proclaiming she had more than enough footage to work with, so now it was just them, hanging out.

They’d eaten lunch together in a tea room on the grounds. Well, Dahlia and Montana had eaten together, while Vadisk sat alone at a table near theirs, playing bodyguard.

“When it’s just the three of us, walking along a quiet path like this,” Dahlia started, “I can almost pretend we’re not in Crimea, not in danger.”

Vadisk agreed, even though there were tiny signs that reminded him of exactly where they were. For one, he was walking a few feet behind them, and two, he couldn’t reach out to take their hands the way he wanted to.

“Even if danger finds us, we’re in good hands with our bodyguard.” Montana glanced over his shoulder at Vadisk and gave him a quick wink.

“Keep your guard up anyway,” Vadisk said to Montana. “Because I’m not bulletproof and I have had my ass kicked before.”

Dahlia shook her head. “I refuse to believe that. I mean…who? How? You’re just so,” she spread her arms out like a fisherman telling a tale, “huge!”

Vadisk laughed. “I’ve always been big. I was well over five kilos when I was born.”

Montana whistled. “Is that twelve pounds? Thirteen?”

“Closer to thirteen.”

Dahlia winced. “Your poor mother.” Then she bit her lip nervously, sizing Vadisk up, and he imagined she was wondering and worrying about their future babies.

God. He hoped she wanted babies. He mentally added children to the ever-growing list of shit they hadn’t discussed yet.

They’d spent a great deal of the afternoon sharing little bits and pieces of themselves. Nothing super serious. Just snapshots of their lives. He now knew Dahlia had a younger sister and brother who were also members of the Trinity Masters, she couldn’t stand cooked fruit—apparently it was a texture thing—and she ran five miles a day when she was home. Montana was an avid surfer, he’d been trying to teach himself how to play the saxophone, and he was allergic to strawberries. Right after lunch, he’d gone on a twenty-minute rant about why music sounded better on vinyl.

Vadisk had shared stuff as well, Dahlia’s comment prompting another memory. “My mom said I was born a protector. Swore I came out of the womb with my fists clenched, ready to take down anyone who came near her.”

Dahlia laughed, delighted. “I love that.”

“Sounds like you’ve followed the right career path, then,” Montana added.

“I’m thrilled to know you’ll always have our backs,” Dahlia said, glancing over her shoulder at him. Vadisk liked that he made them feel safe, even if he knew it was close to impossible to ensure their safety here. As long as they were in Crimea, there would be a guillotine hanging over their heads, poised to slam down on them at any moment.

“Always,” he reassured them.

Montana slowed his pace, making it apparent he was sick of looking backward to have this conversation. “We’re alone,” he mouthed.

Vadisk, after a quick look around at their surroundings, relented and stepped next to them.

Montana pushed his hand in the pockets of his lightweight pants. “I notice you failed to tell us who kicked your ass.”

Vadisk grinned. He hadn’t purposely tried to dodge the topic because the beatdown hadn’t been because of anything he’d done. He’d merely been acting on orders. “It was my fleet admiral.”

Dahlia and Montana were clearly shocked. Vadisk had explained the hierarchy of the Masters’ Admiralty to them one evening at Montana’s behest, just in case the three of them decided to remain in Europe, he’d said, and they had to change societies. The fact that that was a possibility, that they were open to it, had humbled him.

Considering the Masters’ Admiralty encompassed countless countries—or territories—while the Trinity Masters only included one, they’d been fascinated by the leadership dynamics. It was easy for them to understand the fleet admiral’s role, comparing it to the Grand Master’s. But after that, there were very few similarities.

The Trinity Masters didn’t have a correlation when it came to the territory admirals, Dahlia and Montana deciding the closest thing was the Grand Master’s group of counselors. And apart from the Warrior Scholars, the Trinity Masters didn’t have any members serving in roles similar to the security officers, knights, or finance ministers.

“Your fleet admiral beat you up?” Dahlia asked in disbelief. “Did you let him? I mean…could you not hit him back because of who he is?”

Vadisk snorted. “If you’d ever seen Eric, you wouldn’t question his ability to take me down. The guy makes me look small. He’s got this nickname—the Viking. And he’s been known to go into berserker rages whenever someone he loves is hurt.”

“Berserker ra— Holy fuck,” Dahlia murmured. “I was picturing an old, wise, and dangerous sort of person.”

“Nope. Fucking massive Dane who’s pretty easygoing, until he’s not.” There was more to the fleet admiral than the smiling, confident man he presented himself as. Vadisk had seen him with Nikolett, been with Nikolett after one of their tension-filled encounters, and that version of Eric was…

Vadisk rolled his shoulders to work out the tension.

“Why did he attack you?” Montana exchanged a glance with Dahlia, and it occurred to Vadisk he was painting a bad picture of their leader. The problem was, Vadisk’s allegiance was probably a bit skewed. It was Nikolett who’d brought him into the society, taken him under her wing, and trusted him with her life. Guilt bit at him as he thought of her. Given the fucking hell Nikolett had been through in the last six months, leaving her had killed Vadisk, and he could have killed the fleet admiral for yanking away her primary bodyguard.

Then again, Eric didn’t know what Nikolett had been through recently.

Either way, it stood to reason that her tumultuous feelings for the fleet admiral had rubbed off on him, leaving him with a bit of a chip on his shoulder when it came to the way Eric treated Nikolett.

“I tried to stop him from killing a serial killer before we could question her,” Vadisk replied. “To be fair, the woman had killed someone Eric considered a sister, so he hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind.”

“Why did you try to stop him?” Montana asked. “I mean, if she killed someone. If she was a serial killer…”

“Because Nik asked me to.”

Montana and Dahlia seemed to be waiting for him to say more, and exchanged another glance, but he didn’t have anything else to add. His admiral had asked him to stop Eric, so he had.

Montana raked a hand through his hair. “The Warrior Scholars have never been asked to stand against the Grand Master. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”

“What sort of things have you been asked to do for our society?” Dahlia asked Montana. “Anything dangerous?”

“We helped stop a bomber from blowing up the Boston Harbor,” Montana said.

Dahlia’s eyes widened. “Shut up.”

Montana chuckled. “That was probably the most dangerous mission, except for…”

“Except for?” Dahlia prompted.

“One of my roommates, Tate, helped set up a surprise wedding for a trinity.”

Vadisk frowned. “That doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”

“You’d have to know this trinity. One of the partners was the guy who tried to blow up the Harbor. And he was the sanest of the three of them.”

Dahlia laughed, clearly thinking Montana was joking, but Vadisk didn’t think he was.

“Must be something in the water in America because I worked with one of your members during a rescue mission,” Vadisk recalled. “Woman was seriously some sort of super-villain. I thought we were all going to die. Selene, I think her name was.”

Montana started laughing. “She was the bride in the surprise wedding.”

Vadisk’s eyes widened. “No shit. The bomber, Luca, and Selene got married?”

“Yeah, to a guy named Oscar.”

“I know Oscar.” Vadisk grinned. “We went in to rescue him and Luca.”

“Apparently, Oscar’s the batshit crazy one,” Montana said.

“Agree to disagree on that. I’ve met the guy. And Selene…” Vadisk shuddered, then reconsidered his previous comment. “That surprise wedding was a dangerous mission. If we decide to reside in America, we wouldn’t live anywhere near them, would we?” Because if so, Vadisk had just found his line in the sand when it came to which side of the ocean they’d be residing on.

Montana snorted. “No. America is a big place. We’ll make sure to give them a wide berth.”

Vadisk nodded. “Good.”

“I guess there are still a lot of things we need to decide about our future.” Dahlia stepped away from them, bending down to smell one of the brightly colored flowers lining the path.

“As well as things we don’t know about each other,” Montana added.

Vadisk was tempted to reach out to place his hand on Montana’s shoulder. “Maybe so, but last night felt like a good start.” He wanted him to understand how much it meant that he’d trusted the two of them to share such a painful part of his past.

Montana gave him a grateful smile as Dahlia rejoined them.

She looked around, as if confirming what Vadisk already knew. No one was near them on the path.

“So why don’t we start now?” she suggested. “With something easy.”

“Like?” Montana asked.

Dahlia wiggled her eyebrows. “Usually at the beginning of new relationships, couples share their romance histories. And while I’m interested in that, particularly Vadisk’s history with…” She was looking at Vadisk, and appeared to be weighing her next words. She shook her head, smiling. “I’m more curious about your sexual preferences.”

Montana barked out a loud laugh.

Vadisk chuckled. “Going straight for the jugular.”

“You aren’t the only one who feels outnumbered in this relationship, Vadisk.” She pointed at the two of them, then herself. “Two against one, I believe you said.”

Vadisk recalled placing himself in the role of being the one against the two of them without considering Dahlia was in the same boat. “You’re right. Do you have concerns about that?”

“Are you sorry you weren’t placed with a wife?” Montana asked before she could answer Vadisk’s question.

Dahlia shook her head. “No, I’m not concerned about being odd woman out. I mean, I am bi and I’ve had affairs with women, but I’m very happy with our trinity. Just as I would have been fine with one that included a husband and a wife.”

Montana looked at Vadisk. “I’ll admit, I was relieved when I realized you were bi too. Or… I mean, I haven’t misread that, have I?”

“You haven’t misread,” Vadisk said, clearing his throat. It was difficult enough to be around these two without getting hard when they were talking about innocuous stuff. Every fiber of his being was aching to touch them, kiss them.

Talking about sex was sending his mind to places it shouldn’t be going. Regardless, he didn’t have it in him to change the subject because he wanted to know these people. With each passing day in their presence, his curiosity grew, and he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d heard every single one of their stories, learned about their dreams, their hopes, their fears. But more than that—or perhaps more surprising—he wanted to share the same with them.

Vadisk was a fairly private person, his circle of friends small. He wasn’t sure what to attribute that to. His upbringing had been run-of-the-mill. A loving mother and strict father who worked hard to provide for him. A happy childhood. No trauma that impacted his ability to trust others.

He simply didn’t feel the need for a wide circle of acquaintances, more comfortable with a tight-knit group of close friends. Although, that friend group had changed over the years, from the school friends he’d grown up with to the soldiers he’d served with in the military to his current group, fellow security officers and members of the MPF. As he aged and changed, so had his circle.

As he looked at his spouses, he realized his group now included two new friends because Vadisk wanted so much from them. Wanted them to be his lovers, his husband and wife, and yes, his best friends.

“So I guess I’m not the odd guy out. When it comes to the bedroom, we’re all on equal footing,” Dahlia mused.

It took everything Vadisk had not to reach out and pull her into his arms. She was his. They were both his, and he’d yet to kiss them. It was the worst form of torture imaginable.

“I think maybe we should change the subject,” he said, adjusting his pants and trying to will away the emerging hard-on.

“I second that,” Montana added, clueing Vadisk in that he was having the same trouble.

“Okay,” Dahlia agreed, “but I’m only tabling this discussion until we’re alone—preferably in bed—and we can delve more deeply into our past experiences. Because I want to know it all.”

Vadisk grinned at how closely Dahlia’s words matched his thoughts.

They continued walking, Vadisk falling back when the path led them to one of the more populated areas in the park. Dahlia and Montana embarked on a discussion of the lion sculptures near the southern terraces, comparing them to similar statues in the Boston Public Library. Montana launched into a story about why the Boston lions weren’t polished, but Vadisk’s attention wavered as he thought back on the morning. Dahlia was right. At times like this, it was easy to pretend they were just three people out enjoying their honeymoon.

Dahlia and Montana’s easy banter, relaxed postures, and carefree expressions were a far cry from the two people in the kitchen this morning.

Mission completed, he thought to himself, recalling his desire to give them one good, stress-free day.

Now, if only the other mission could be as easily resolved.

Vadisk locked the front door to the villa after they entered. After their tour of the palace, they traveled to Sevastopol where they meandered along Primorsky Boulevard, window-shopping and enjoying a coffee in one of the local cafés. Rather than dine in a restaurant, Dahlia had insisted they order food to take out, as she refused to dine with Vadisk sitting at another table.

Montana carried their boxed-up meals to the dining table, grabbing them utensils as well.

As they ate, they discussed their day for a few minutes before letting the bad stuff back in.

“So what’s the plan if Sinaver refuses to see us?” Dahlia asked, clearly worried.

Vadisk wished he had an answer for her. So far, Sinaver was their best—and only—lead. “Let’s give it a couple of days. We’ll continue working our way through the new itinerary. If we haven’t heard anything from him in two days, we’ll come up with a plan for how to proceed.”

“In other words, you can’t think of anything either,” Montana said, admitting he was hitting the same brick wall.

Vadisk grimaced. “Perhaps Nik will discover something. I know she and the Ottoman admiral are still tugging threads on their ends.”

They continued to eat in silence, Vadisk trying to come up with their next move. In the end, his worrying was for naught because Dahlia received a response to her request twenty minutes later.

Checking her phone as they finished up dinner, she glanced up at him and Montana apprehensively.

“We’re in,” she said. “Sinaver is sending a car for us tomorrow.”

It was good news for their investigation, the meeting coming much sooner than any of them dared to hope.

However, Vadisk felt every bit of the same anxiety that laced Montana’s muttered, “Fuck.”