Cross & Crown
Page 11

“That’s a lot more fun to watch when it’s not me you’re doing it to,” Nick told Kelly, his voice warm with pride and possibly a little lust.
Kelly smirked at him.
Nick grabbed Julian by his elbow and hefted him off the ground, then jerked his arms behind him and shoved him against the wall of the nearest building. He patted him down from head to toe, taking special care around his wrists.
Kelly wound up holding an armful of weaponry and other . . .
implements. Then Nick slapped a pair of handcuffs on Julian and hissed in his ear. “Welcome to Boston.”
Chapter 5
elly sat in the backseat with Julian, watching him Klike a hawk. Nick could see them in his rearview mirror as he guided the car toward the marina. Any other col ar, and he’d have taken him right back inside to the precinct, but Nick had dealt with Julian Cross before. He wasn’t the type you paraded into a police department without expecting trouble—and probably the CIA—to follow close behind.
“I thought you were some sort of camp counselor,” Julian finally said to Kelly. “Work with troubled kids and all that.”
Kelly pursed his lips. “Yeah. It’s called Camp Asskicker.
I’ll give you a ‘you tried’ badge next time I see you.”
Julian snorted and actually smiled before meeting Nick’s eyes in the mirror. “The handcuffs aren’t really necessary, Detective.”
“Humor me,” Nick said. “You’re lucky you’re not in a cell.
Why are you in Boston? Who’s your mark?”
“I don’t have a mark. I’m retired, didn’t Grady tell you?”
“Seeing is believing, babe. And I’ve seen you at not one but two crime scenes in the past two days. So I’ll ask you again, why are you in Boston?”
Julian sighed, and his eyes darted to JD. “I’d rather speak in private, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Fine,” Nick growled.
They pulled into the marina parking lot and Nick swiped his security card to open the gates. He could feel the tension pouring off everyone in the car, including himself. It was days like this he sort of wished he’d pulled anchor on his yacht and just sailed into the Atlantic when he’d gotten home.
They got several double takes and glares from Nick’s neighbors as he led Julian, still handcuffed, toward his boat slip. The Fiddler’s Green was the largest vessel in the marina, and it sat on the very end of the very last dock. They had to walk past basically every other boat in the marina. Nick didn’t care, though. Whenever any of these fuckers had a problem, they came to Detective O’Flaherty to fix it. They could deal with dangerous international criminals being led by in handcuffs every couple of years.
They boarded the yacht, and Nick shoved Julian toward one of the sofas in the salon. “You here to talk?”
Julian nodded. “I still owe you for your previous assistance, Detective. I intend to keep this civil.”
“Attacking them in an alleyway, that’s civil?” Kelly asked.
“I believe I was the one who was attacked,” Julian corrected. “You’ll notice I didn’t take a single swing at you. I was waiting until the detective was away from his partner to approach him.”
Nick stared at him for several more seconds, then handed Kelly the keys to the handcuffs. “Let him loose. I’ll be right back.”
Kelly nodded silently, and Julian stood up to give him access to the handcuffs. Nick gestured for JD to follow him toward the lower deck. They both had to duck going down the steps. It was second nature for Nick, but JD bumped his head and cursed quietly, rubbing the spot as he followed Nick to the VIP cabin.
Nick gestured toward the bed and the bathroom. “Make yourself at home, okay? But stay here until one of us comes to get you.”
“Right,” JD said with a nervous nod. “Is he the one trying to kill me? Are you sure it’s okay to let him go?”
“No,” Nick answered. “And no. But we’ll trust him until he proves me wrong.”
JD met his eyes, and it was obvious from the look on his face that he caught Nick’s meaning. “Just like you’re trusting me. Right?”
“Exactly,” Nick said. “Stay here.”
He left JD, closing the door behind him, and headed back up to join Julian and Kelly in the salon. They were sitting opposite each other, both of them unblinking, both of them smirking slightly.
Nick put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath to get control of his temper. “Okay,” he said finally. “Julian Cross, this is Kelly Abbott. He kicked your ass once and he’ll do it again.”
“Again. I wasn’t fighting back,” Julian reminded. He looked Kelly up and down. “Although he does seem quite formidable for his stature.”
“Whatever,” Nick said, knowing that nothing Julian could say would ruffle Kelly’s feathers. He sat in the chair beside Kelly and leaned both elbows on his knees, waiting for Julian to begin talking.
“Do you know who you have in that cabin downstairs?”
Julian finally asked.
“No. Do you?”
“No, unfortunately.”
Disappointment spiked hard before Nick could get control of it. He had been resting a lot of hope on Julian being able to shed some light on this. “Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “So what do you know?”
Julian clucked his tongue. “I know what they’re after.”
Nick and Kelly waited, staring at Julian as he grinned at them.
“Well, what are you waiting for here, dude, dramatic music?” Kelly finally blurted. “What the hell are they after?”
Julian looked a little annoyed that they hadn’t enjoyed the theatrics. He sat back and pulled his coat away, showing the inside to Nick before he reached in and extracted a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully, then turned it so they could see the photocopied object. “The crown jewels of Ireland.”
“Crown jewels of Ireland?” Kelly said. “Is that real? That doesn’t sound real.”
Nick lowered his head, rubbing his face with both hands.
“The crown jewels of Ireland disappeared in the early 1900s.
Why are they stealing documents from the Revolutionary War if that’s what they’re after?”
“Wait, is this real?” Kelly asked again.
Nick nodded. “They were pieces made for the Order of St. Patrick in seventeen . . . something. I don’t remember.
They disappeared in 1908. After they were stolen, the papers started cal ing them the Irish Crown Jewels.”
“Jesus.” Kelly gaped at Nick. “Is there any obscure piece of history that you don’t know off the top of your head? Seriously!”
“Actually, it was 1907,” Julian said. “But I had to look up the information, so I’m impressed with your knowledge, Detective.”
Nick rolled his fingers through the air. “Get to the important part.”
“The order was created in 1783. You’ll notice the proximity to the end of your country’s Revolution.”
Nick closed his eyes and nodded impatiently. He was still waiting for any of this to connect to anything they’d found.
“The jewels, however, were not made until 1831 to replace the original rather plain ones worn by the Order.”
“How about you skip to the end, huh?” Nick demanded.
Julian glared for a moment, then he shook himself and nodded. “Fine. There is a theory that the payroll supposedly stolen from the Continentals at the beginning of the American Revolution was actually not a payroll at al , but rather a small trove of Masonic belongings, including one golden cross.”
“Masons,” Nick said, gritting his teeth. “You’re coming at us with Masons?”
“No.”
“Wait, what does this cross have to do with the Irish family jewels?” Kelly asked.
“Crown jewels,” Nick grunted.
“If you would let me finish before you get your knickers in a twist, this would be easier.”
Nick held up both hands and sat with a huff, gesturing for Julian to go on.
“The Masons were actually an offshoot of a much older society called the Rosicrucians,” Julian continued. Nick felt Kelly’s eyes on him, and he glanced at his lover questioningly.
Julian continued, oblivious to their silent communication.
“They inspired the Masonic Order of the Golden and Rosy Cross. It’s part of the Scottish Rites, extremely secretive stuff. Many believe there was an actual golden and rosy cross created by the Rosicrucians in the early part of the seventeenth century that was handed down into Masonic hands.”
“And people believe it was part of the Continental treasure?” Nick asked.
“Some, yes.”
“What’s so important about this cross?” Kelly asked.
“Besides being really old?”
“It was quite large, purported to have been wrapped in hundreds of layers of gold foil, and encrusted in rare pink diamonds. It would literally be priceless.”
Nick found himself nodding. He could understand even the rumor of a treasure like that inspiring a certain type of individual. “Okay. I follow. But what does that have to do with the Irish Crown Jewels? Why are they after those instead of this cross?”
“The main piece in the Irish collection was the Diamond Star of the Grand Master,” Julian said. He laid his paper out and pointed to one of the pieces. “Four square inches of pure white diamond, with a ruby cross and an emerald trefoil in the forefront. Itself worth millions in today’s market, but nothing compared to the value of the golden and rosy cross, if it exists.”
“Right. But the Irish Crown Jewels were stolen a hundred years ago, and the Continental treasure and this pink cross disappeared over a hundred years before that. So I say again, where’s the connection?” Nick asked.
Julian tapped the photo of the Irish Crown Jewels. “This is a map.”
“The brooch?” Kelly asked.
“Star. Technically.”
“Yeah, well I say ‘star’ and it gets all confusing.”
Julian scoffed. “Are you trying to say you’re not confused already?”
“This is a map to the missing Continental treasure?” Nick asked, tapping the grainy picture.
“I mean are we talking about the Big Dipper or are we talking about jewelry?” Kelly asked. “It’s a fucking brooch.”
“Your entire Recon team must be insufferable,” Julian muttered to Nick.
Nick just nodded. “Okay, so the star thingy is a map.”
“A star map!” Kelly said, grinning widely at Nick. “You were right, interstellar librarians.”
“What in the bloody hell . . . no,” Julian growled. “No interstellar . . . what? No. Whatever you want to call this piece of jewelry, people think it can lead to the Continental treasure, and with it, the actual golden and rosy cross.”
“That’s great, but the star is gone too,” Nick pointed out.
“Not entirely,” Julian countered. “By all accounts, it’s here.
In Boston.”
“What accounts?” Nick demanded.
“I don’t know, I’m only being fed information I can use to track it.”
“By?”
“I don’t know,” Julian snarled.
“So you’re hunting this treasure for someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Julian merely stared at Nick with black eyes that gave away nothing. His jaw was tight. Nick didn’t know him well enough to read him.
“Fine, you’re retired, you need a payday, whatever,” Kelly said with a wave of his hand. “Who hired you?”
“I keep telling you, I don’t know. And if I did, they’d be dead.”
“These are people willing to track down and fuck with an ex-CIA hit man for a rumor about a treasure. I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’ from you,” Nick snapped.
“That’s all I have!” Julian practically shouted.
“Okay, okay. Where is the star thing?” Kelly asked.
“I don’t know. The records that led us here have been lost or stolen. That’s why I was following the men at the bookstore.
I had hoped they’d gleaned some information I had yet to come across. And when I heard someone had witnessed the robbery, that’s when I decided to contact you.”
“Next time, how about just . . . saying hi,” Nick huffed.
“Maybe a nice text message. I’ll give you my number.”
“I’ll remember that, Detective,” Julian said between gritted teeth. He put both hands out like he was trying to keep everyone calm. “I am telling you all I have. I am here, in your city, asking for your help.”
Nick narrowed his eyes.
Julian inhaled shakily. “Begging. I’m begging for it.”
That brought Nick up short, his next question forgotten as he stared into Julian’s black eyes.
“Why the fuck are you doing all this?” Kelly asked him again.
Julian lowered his gaze, struggling with his reply. “Let’s just say I had no choice in the matter.”
A sudden dread came over Nick and he leaned closer.
“Cameron?”
Julian didn’t move.
“Who is Cameron?” Kelly asked.
“My . . .” Julian shook his head, pursing his lips.
“His boyfriend,” Nick provided. “Civilian. Very civilian.”
“He’s not . . .” Julian nearly choked on the words he couldn’t get out.