Chapter 3

Thirty minutes later…

"What's going on?" Colter asked as he rushed into the library. He hated this estate and tried to avoid visiting it for any reason. In the ten years he'd been with Bridger, he'd only walked through the front door of this sprawling mansion four times. None of the visits had been pleasant.

He didn't like Bridger coming here either. Every time his partner visited his grandfather, he was out of sorts for days. The old man was a fucking manipulative asshole.

Bridger turned from the window he'd been facing and ran a hand down his face. He looked like shit. His hair was a mess from combing his fingers through it. His normally tanned cheeks were pale as though he had a fever.

Slowing his pace, Colter stepped closer until he reached his partner. He cupped his cheek and gripped his neck firmly, a show of support for whatever the fuck had transpired here.

When Bridger didn't respond, Colter continued, "You said the lawyer was here? I assume Benjamin wanted to tweak his will for the millionth time. I don't know why that would upset you. You don't give a fuck about that man's money."

The odd sardonic chuckle that escaped Bridger's mouth made chills climb up Colter's spine. "He bought me a woman."

Colter narrowed his gaze, trying to make sense of those words. "He what?"

"You heard me."

"You mean like a stripper or a lap dancer?" Colter searched his partner's gaze.

"I wish."

Colter lifted both brows. Though the two of them were in a committed relationship and had been for ten years, they were well aware neither of them was gay. They liked women. They just also liked men. After meeting in graduate school, clicking, and opening a consulting firm together, they'd seamlessly made a life together that hadn't included any women.

Bridger drew in a deep breath. "Though he had a seemingly lucid conversation with his lawyer, as soon as the man left, the old geezer dropped this bomb in my lap. He literally purchased a human on the dark web."

Colter blinked. "You're serious."

Bridger nodded. He was turning gray now.

"Where is she?"

"Apparently, she was delivered here late last night, and she's waiting for me in the pool house."

Colter stopped breathing. He stared in disbelief. "Did you go look?"

"Fuck no. I waited for you to get here."

Colter ran a hand over his head. "Jesus," he breathed out. "Surely, she's not still there. Why wouldn't she just take off?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, let's go." Colter nodded over his shoulder, feeling confident they would not find a woman in the pool house. How ludicrous. Either she had never existed, and the old man had finally lost his last marble, or she'd run the first chance she'd gotten.

Colter led the way, marching through the mansion and out the back door with Bridger on his heels. He ignored the cook as he passed her in the kitchen. So did Bridger.

The pool was not directly behind the mansion. It was at the bottom of a sloped backyard. Colter took the steps two at a time, nearly jogging to the deck before rounding the pool to get to the house.

The "pool house" was not small. Most families didn't have homes as luxurious as that fucking pool house.

The entrance was all glass, including the door, and Colter didn't knock or hesitate. He opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.

For a moment, he stood in the foyer of the single-story home, glancing around. His heart was racing, but when he saw no signs of life, he began to calm.

However, as soon as Bridger shut the door, a shuffling noise made them both glance toward the hallway. Fuck.

Bridger rushed past Colter at a fast clip, aiming directly for the only closed door at the end of the hallway. It wasn't locked, and Bridger yanked it open without a word or warning.

He took one step into the room and stopped dead so fast that Colter ran into the back of him and had to grab his shoulders to steady himself. And then, all the blood drained from his head.

Seconds passed. Colter had no idea how many. An eternity. Finally, he slid a palm to Bridger's lower back and stepped to his side. Licking his dry lips, he found his voice before Bridger. "Shit."

The woman flinched subtly, but she didn't move.

She was on her knees in the middle of the room in what he recognized as a specific position—a slave's position—butt leaning on her heels, knees spread wide, hands on her thighs, palms up. Her head was bowed low, her nearly black hair in a long braid down her back.

She was completely naked.

She was also chained to the leg of the heavy bed by a collar around her neck.

Bridger moved first, rushing past her to yank the sheet off the bed and drape it around her shoulders.

Colter followed in his wake, nodding toward the bed as he bent to lift the leg to release the chain. The bed was far too heavy for the woman to have released herself.

Bridger tugged the leash out from under the bed before rushing back to the woman. "Jesus," he murmured. "That collar is steel or something. Where's the fucking key?"

Colter squatted down in front of her, not touching her. "We're going to help you. Can you tell me your name?"

She swallowed. "Daffodil, Sir. Are you my Master?"

Colter flinched. "Master? Definitely not."

"I belong to Mr. Bridger Arnoult."

Bridger stumbled backward before righting himself and setting a hand on Colter's shoulder. He gripped hard. "I'm Bridger, but I'm not your Master."

She trembled slightly but said nothing.

Colter glanced at the chain and then at the attached bathroom, hoping it had been long enough for her to at least reach the sink and the toilet. "Who brought you here, Daffodil?"

"I don't know, Sir. He said he was my handler."

Bridger made eye contact with Colter. "How long have you been here?"

"Since late last night, Master."

Bridger's breath hitched. "Please don't call me Master. Bridger is fine."

She had yet to lift her gaze and lowered it further at the reprimand.

Colter swayed a bit. "Have you been here alone since then?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Have you eaten anything?" He glanced around, seeing no evidence of food.

"No, Sir."

"Were you able to reach the bathroom and get a drink?"

"Yes, Sir."

Bridger sighed. "We're going to get you help, Daffodil."

"Help?" she asked, her voice thready.

"Yes. I'm calling the police." He rose to his feet as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"No," she shouted more forcefully than Colter would have thought possible. She also lifted her gaze to look directly at Bridger. As if realizing her error, she immediately lowered her face again. "Please, Master. Please don't call the police. I'll be good. I promise. I'm well trained. I can serve you in any way you please. Let me prove myself."

"Daffodil, we can't do that, honey," Colter responded. "You were obviously brought here against your will. That's illegal. Let us call the police and get you some help."

Bridger lifted his phone, but he kept his gaze on Daffodil.

She suddenly leaned forward, placing her hands on the floor in front of her and rocking back and forth. She started sobbing. "Please, Master. I'm begging you. Please don't call the police."

Colter glanced at Bridger, brow furrowed. "Okay, honey. For now. Let's get you off the floor, find you some clothes, and figure out how to get that collar off you."

Bridger slowly tucked the phone back in his suit pants, but he was frowning and shooting daggers at Colter with his eyes. "What the fuck?" he mouthed.

Colter shrugged, eyes wide. He had no fucking idea what they were going to do, but every time they mentioned the police, this frightened woman panicked. They should at least ask her some more questions before making the call.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you…" she whispered, repeating it over and over. "I'll be good. I promise."

A knot formed in Colter's throat. They were in over their heads here.