Free Hidden Devotion by Lila Dubois

story is that Pedro was the illegitimate son of Calixto Garcia.”
    “Why is that an unbelievable story? Wasn’t General Garcia a rather famous womanizer?”
    Francisco shrugged one shoulder. “True. That is not the most unbelievable story.”
    “Oh?” Juliette kept her tone casual and inquisitive, but her heart was pounding.
    Francisco opened his mouth, but then shook his head, studying the museum display instead. The silence lengthened to the point of uncomfortable, and Juliette had to fight the urge to grab Francisco and shake him until information fell out.
    The thunderous knock on the museum’s front door was so unexpected that Juliette let out a yelp.
    Francisco was just as startled, jerking sideways into the display, which luckily didn’t break.
    “What was that?” he asked.
    “There’s someone at the door.”
    “I should get that.” He stumbled away, nearly tripping over his own feet.
    Juliette took a few deep breaths, centering herself and prepping a new approach. These “crazy stories” told by Francisco’s grandfather Luis may be tales of the Trinity Masters. To anyone outside the organization they probably would sound unbelievable. She needed to know more about Luis, since he’d been a member, but never called to the altar. There were too many unanswered questions for her liking.
    Juliette was staring into middle space, sorting out her thoughts and questions, when the sound of a familiar voice jerked her attention back to the present. It almost sounded like…
    Sucking in a breath, Juliette walked quickly towards the door Francisco had used, the voices getting louder as she approached the entrance to the museum. She rounded a corner and stopped in her tracks.
    “Dammit, Devon.”

Chapter Six

    Francisco resisted the urge to slam the door in this guy’s face and boot the gorgeous blonde out on her ass. He was starting to feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole—nothing quite made sense.
    “Do you work here?” the tall brown-haired man asked. Like Juliette, the guy looked put together and preppy, his attire—pressed khakis and a logoed dark-blue polo shirt—practically screaming New England.
    Franco wanted to hole up in his office—alone—with the photos for a few days. To spend a proper amount of time studying them. Since the blonde had brought him the pictures, it would be rude for him to rush her out of here, but this guy was just an annoyance keeping him from working on this new puzzle.
    “The museum isn’t open.” Francisco inched the door closed. “Come back tomorrow.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed and he very deliberately put one foot over the threshold, toe of his shoe against the bottom of the door. “I’m looking for someone.”
    “They’re not here, because we’re closed.” Francisco vaguely wondered where his cell phone was in case he needed to call the cops. Since he lived upstairs, and the museum was more informative than value-heavy artifact-based, the security was minimal. There may be a panic button on the system keypad, but he couldn’t bank on it.
    “Who are you?” the man demanded.
    Francisco blinked at the question. “Shouldn’t I be asking who you are?”
    “Dammit, Devon.” Juliette’s words were quiet but spoken with fervor from somewhere behind him.
    The man shoved the door open, knocking Francisco back, and stepped inside. His gaze was focused on Juliette.
    The urge to protect rose hot and sharp, filling the space behind Franco’s breastbone with heat and sending adrenaline racing through his limbs. He put a hand on the man’s chest, stopping his advance.
    “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Franco’s voice changed with his anger, and for a moment he heard traces of his own father’s tone in the words. It was far from a bad thing—no one fucked with Henry Garcia Hernandez.
    The newcomer’s gaze shifted away from Juliette, and the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms tensed and bunched.
    Franco hadn’t been in a fight since