van was driving slowly enough that the people inside could jump out to take action.
Owen’s attention went back to the flagstones.
“The church,” Claudette said. “They might be in prayer.”
“The I team will take the church,” Percival said. “Team L, you’re support.”
“Understood,” Kristin said. The locksmith van picked up speed.
Owen stared hard at the flagstones. “Stop.”
The van jerked to a stop, the front wheels a foot away from the edge of the flagstones.
“Team L, back up. Team I, stay where you are.” Owen turned to Vadisk. “Can you get on the roof?” Owen pointed to the shed.
Rodrigo raised an eyebrow, but when Vadisk nodded, he made a stirrup with his hands and boosted the Hungarian security officer up.
“I want you to shoot the stone courtyard. Three in from midpoint, the darker gray one. It’s raised slightly.”
“No,” Percival countered. “A shot will warn them.”
“It’s too late for that,” Owen said. “Either we’re too late or…”
Vadisk shouldered the beanbag gun, sighted, and fired. The “pop” of the gun was audible for only a second before an explosion rocked the night.
“Fuck!” someone shouted.
“Booby-trapped,” Owen snarled. “The fucking place is booby-trapped with land mines.”
“Retreat,” Percival snapped. “Retrace your exact steps.”
Owen didn’t take a deep breath until he was back in the van with a grim-looking Jennika.
“They knew we were coming,” she said.
Owen nodded and reached for his phone. He needed to call the Grand Master.
Someone had told the Bellator Dei they were coming. It hadn’t been him or anyone in Trinity Masters. Unless...No.
The Grand Master trusted him. Petro, the now dead Mastermind probably had people within the Masters’ Admiralty still devoted to his cause. They could have warned the Bellator Dei about the upcoming raid.
He’d get with Percy—could he trust Percy?—and talk about the possibility of there being a traitor within the MPF ranks on the Masters’ Admiralty side. But he already knew what Percy would say. The same thing that had first occurred to Owen.
A traitor within the Masters’ Admiralty was possible, but it wasn’t the most probable. The obvious suspect, the person with known loyalty to the Bellator Dei and knowledge of their operation, was Luca.
Luca Campisi had warned the Bellator Dei they were coming. They’d abandoned the headquarters and rigged the place with land mines and probably a few other nasty surprises.
The Trinity Masters’ newest member was a traitor.
Chapter Sixteen
Selene stood by the window, dry-erase marker in hand, laughing at the list she’d compiled on the hotel window. Oscar and Luca were sprawled out on the couch, shirtless, barefoot, both wearing the sweatpants provided by the helicopter pilot, rather than bothering with real clothing.
The three of them had been sequestered in the hotel suite for three days, living on room service, wine, and sex—not necessarily in that order.
None of them had expected to be in Boston for so long, but the Grand Master wanted her counselor, Devon, present, along with Norah Douglas, a Trinity Masters’ member and brilliant hacker and dark web specialist, when they released the bomb designs.
There was some groundwork to lay prior to releasing the plans to make sure there were eyes and ears on all the stores of neptunium so they could follow the trail and discover any lunatic assholes who thought building a city-killer bomb would be a good idea.
It was taking time to get everything in place, but Selene wasn’t complaining. She was having the best time of her life and she wasn’t anxious for the real world to intrude on that.
“Not happening.” She drew a line through a couple Kama Sutra positions that involved her being upside down and supporting herself with her hands. The sex was too good, so there was a good chance she’d lose focus and crash to the floor if they tried those. Besides, she preferred kinky.
Oscar growled in disapproval, but didn’t argue.
Selene tapped one finger against her lips. “So what should we attempt next?” she asked. “Fem Dom or some new role play?”
They’d begun an actual list of sexual positions and fantasies they all wanted to try when it became apparent they were going to be together for the foreseeable future. They’d taken “practicing ménages” to the next level.
Oscar chuckled and shook his head. He’d made fun of the list ever since Selene found the dry-erase marker and started writing things down on the hotel window. Mercifully they were on a top floor, so no one on the street far below could read what she was writing.
Of course, she noticed Oscar’s teasing didn’t stop him from adding his own suggestions.