Chapter 4

Bridger ran his hand through his hair repeatedly, trying to breathe. What the fuck had his grandfather done? He'd never known the old man to deal in human trafficking. He wanted to turn around, run back to Benjamin's room, and strangle him.

That wasn't possible right now, however, because this woman needed him. Was she even an adult? "Daffodil, how old are you?"

"Twenty-two, Master."

He winced before squatting down next to Colter. "I'm not a Master, Daffodil. I'm just a man. I had nothing to do with this. I didn't know you were here."

She started crying softly, rocking back and forth on her hands and knees. The sheet had fallen to the floor, and her breasts swayed back and forth.

The truth was the woman was stunning. Drop dead gorgeous. How had she ended up in this position? Was she a prostitute or a druggie?

"No one is going to hurt you, honey," Colter said. He lifted a hand as if to stroke her back but left it hovering in the air above her.

Bridger couldn't blame him. He was afraid to touch her, too. "Can you look at me?"

She flinched but continued to sway.

Bridger wasn't ignorant about BDSM. He and Colter belonged to a club called Roses and Thorns, though they hadn't been in a while. Nevertheless, he recognized the obvious slave protocol in this woman. She'd been trained not to look at him. However, he doubted her training had been consensual.

Bridger was a large man. Six-two. He knew he was intimidating. Hell, so was Colter. He was six-four. The two of them together weren't making this woman feel safe.

He dropped down onto his ass, lifted the sheet off the floor, and wrapped it around her body. He was shocked to notice her skin was flawless. Pale white. Her breasts were fucking perfection, high and tight, with small pink nipples. If he wasn't mistaken, her pussy was shaved bare.

Her dark hair undoubtedly would reach her butt if it were down. The braid was swaying alongside her. Her fingers were gripping the hardwood floor, the nails filed perfectly. He had the sense she'd been groomed for this meeting.

And then sold.

"Show me those pretty green eyes again, Daffodil. I want to see them." Maybe that would entice her.

Sniffling, she slid back into the perfect slave position, the same one she'd been in when they'd entered. The damn sheet fell away again. In fact, she seemed to shrug it off and relaxed her shoulders slightly when it was no longer touching her.

Jesus.

Fuck.

Colter set a hand on Bridger's knee and squeezed tight. His gaze was also glued to the vision before them. They could see her better now.

She was a masterpiece. A work of art.

She pulled her shoulders back, causing her tits to rise. With her knees once again spread open, he verified she was shaved completely bare. She also had a tattoo on her inner thigh. A rose?

Bridger swallowed. For some reason, he didn't like the tattoo. It was incongruent, and it marred her otherwise flawless beauty. She didn't even have freckles. A few tiny brown moles dotted her body in random places, but they only added to her allure and made her seem more real somehow.

She held her breath, probably to control the tremors and tears.

"Eyes, baby. Show them to me." Bridger flinched as soon as that endearment left his lips. He had no idea why he'd called her baby. Colter stiffened, too. Though hell, he'd called her honey several times.

The moment she tipped her head back and met his gaze, Bridger sucked in a breath and froze. Jesus. Her perfection doubled. The most stunning sea-green eyes met his. Her dark lashes were wet. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wore no makeup, so mascara didn"t track down her face. She didn't need it. Her lips were full and pink, with no gloss or lipstick.

Bridger smiled at her, hoping it would reassure her he was not her Master. He was not some fucking asshole who purchased women. "I did not buy you, Daffodil."

She swallowed. "You are not my Master?" She sniffled.

He shook his head. "No one is your Master. No one will ever be your Master. It's not legal." Why was he promising her such things? He knew nothing about her. They needed to call the police and an ambulance. He had no idea if she was hurt, but she was certainly emotionally damaged.

"Where did you come from, Daffodil?" Colter asked.

"I don't know, Sir."

"You don't need to call me Sir, honey," he said gently.

She pursed her lips. They clearly weren't going to break her of that habit any time soon.

How the hell does she not know where she came from?

"Please don't send me back, Sir." She jerked her attention from Colter back to Bridger. "Master. Please."

"Okay, baby. No one is going to send you back anywhere. I promise."

She blew out a breath. "I'll be good. I promise. I can clean, cook, and, uh, service you any way you'd like." Her eyes were wider, though she quickly jerked her gaze back down.

One thing was certain; she would not be cleaning, cooking, or servicing them in any fucking way. Fuck.

"Who brought you here?" he reiterated. They needed information.

"The handler," she whispered. "I didn't know him."

"Where did he bring you from?"

"The auction."

Bridger winced again. "You were sold at an auction?"

She shivered a moment and then righted herself back into the position she'd been trained to assume. Her nipples were hard points. Even though this situation was beyond fucked up, Bridger's cock was hard. How the fuck could it not be with this stunning goddess spread out naked in front of him, every one of her assets visible.

Don't be a dick.

"It wasn't really an auction. I was sold beforehand. It was more of a presentation."

"How many people were there?" Colter asked. Bridger could hear the strain in his voice, but he was schooling it as well as he could.

"I don't know, Sir. I was blindfolded. I think a few dozen?"

"Was it here in Denver?" Bridger asked.

She jerked her gaze up, shocking him. Eyes wide, she asked, "We're in Denver?"

He frowned. "Yes. The outskirts."

"I lived in Denver."

"When?"

She lowered her gaze again, brows furrowed as though she weren't sure. "I don't know for sure. I think it's been sixteen months."

Bridger gritted his teeth. "What were you doing in Denver sixteen months ago?" He didn't want to ask flat-out if she was a prostitute, but she did not give off that vibe. Not at all. She seemed oddly innocent. Was that part of her training?

"I was a waitress, and… I was a waitress." She left something out. Shit.

"Where were you working, baby?" he asked. He really wanted to cover her, but she didn't seem willing to accept the sheet. This situation was so very fucked up.

"At a restaurant," she murmured, obviously unwilling to share the location.

Colter drew in a deep breath. "Were you taken against your will, honey?"

She hesitated. "Yes," she whispered.

"Sixteen months ago?" Colter clarified.

"Yes."

Bridger snagged the sheet from the floor again. "We really need to call the police, Daffodil," he said softly. What the hell other option did they have?

She flinched again and met his gaze, her eyes imploring. "Please, please, please don't, Master. If you don't want me…" She pulled her shoulders back again and tried to steady herself. "Give me a chance to serve you, Master. Please."

Bridger looked at Colter.

Colter was a bit pale, his brows furrowed. He stared at Daffodil. "Honey, laws were broken—about a thousand of them. Bridger and I don't want to make things worse. We can't just keep you. It's not right. How about we take you to the hospital? You need a doctor."

She shook her head, panic resuming. "No, please, Sir." She looked back at Bridger. "If you don't find me attractive, I'll stay out of your way. I promise I'm trained to take care of your every need. I won't eat much. You won't even know I'm here."

"This is not where we live, Daffodil."

"Oh. Do you…" she glanced back and forth between them, "…live together?"

"Yes, honey. We're a couple," Colter confirmed. "We live about twenty minutes from here in the city," he reiterated.

She looked back and forth again. "Why…" She licked her lips. "Someone…" She stopped herself, pursed her lips, and lowered her gaze again.

Colter sighed. "You're wondering why someone would buy you and give you to a gay couple, aren't you?"

She didn't move.

Colter spoke again. "The man who purchased you is not in his right mind, but it would seem he thought if he presented you to Bridger, he could convince him to switch to women."

She shivered.

Colter glanced at Bridger and back at Daffodil. "Not that it's anyone's business, but Bridger and I are not gay. We're bisexual. Therefore, we are not immune to your extremely gorgeous body. Would you please let us wrap you up in the sheet until we can find some clothes for you to wear? And could we get off the floor and move to the sofa?"

Bridger greatly appreciated his partner at this moment. His tone was slightly playful. The man could probably talk a suicide victim off a wall.

And holy fuck, but Daffodil might have graced them with a small smile before pursing her lips again.

Colter rose to his feet and held out a hand before Daffodil. "Please, honey. Let's get off the floor."

The woman rose gracefully to her feet in a motion she'd likely practiced hundreds of times. Had she been in captivity, being trained as a sex slave for sixteen months? The idea made him want to vomit.

The chain clinked behind her as she rose. It was heavy and thick. Bridger grabbed the length of it and held it up to keep it from tugging on her neck. He wanted this damn thing off her immediately.

Bridger wrapped the sheet around her yet again, holding the front together to cover her. He reached for her collar, hesitating. "May I examine this to figure out how to get it off?"

"Yes, Master."

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to reprimand her again right now. She was calling him Master because it was ingrained.

She didn't move an inch as he tucked his fingers under the edge of the collar and felt around it. It was thick and metal, and yet her skin was not as raw as he would expect. "How long have you worn this?"

"Only since I got here last night, Master."

"Do you know how the, uh, handler put it on?"

"No, Master." She seemed irrationally unconcerned.

"Let's move to the living room couch, okay?"

"Yes, Master. If it pleases you."

When she struggled to step forward because her legs were tangled in the sheet, Colter swooped down and swept her off the floor. He grabbed the length of chain from Bridger, carried her out of the bedroom, and carefully deposited her in the corner of the sectional.

Daffodil drew her knees up and pulled herself into a trembling ball. "I'm not allowed on the furniture," she murmured, more to herself.

"That's bullshit," Colter responded. "Now you are." He took a step back. "Do you think there's food in this fridge?" he asked Bridger as he turned toward the kitchenette.

"No idea." Bridger sat next to her, leaving several inches between them. "We're going to help you, baby."

"Please don't call the police," she begged again.

"Okay. For now. You have my word. We won't call without your permission." Why was he promising her such ludicrous things?

"Thank you, Master."

"How about we make a deal? I won't call the police as long as you stop calling me Master?"

She flinched. "I'll try, Sir."

He groaned. "Or Sir. My name is Bridger. My partner's name is Colter."

"Yes, S?—"

"Found the key," Colter exclaimed. He held it up as he crossed the room.

Daffodil sat very still as Colter worked on the collar. A few seconds later, the damn thing popped free, and Colter set it and the dangling chain on the coffee table.

Daffodil lifted a hand to rub her red skin. "Thank you, Sir."

Colter set a hand on her upper back. "Can you lean forward for me, honey? Let me make sure it didn't cut you."

She did as she was told.

Colter stroked her skin and then tipped her head back to look at her throat.

Bridger watched, an absurd jealousy flaring up. Not that he cared that Colter was taking care of her—he was glad. Colter was the more solid of the two when it came to stressful situations. Bridger simply felt the urge to touch her skin. Was it as soft as it looked?

Bridger glanced at the collar. It was impossible to fathom having something like that wrapped around his neck like an animal. Without thinking, he reached forward, thinking to pick it up, wanting to test the weight of it.

"Don't touch that," Colter demanded without glancing at his partner.

Bridger sucked in a breath and turned his attention back to the fucking sexy blond man who'd been his life for ten years. His heart rate picked up as he stared at Colter.

Colter finished examining Daffodil's neck and ran a hand protectively over the top of her head. He looked at Bridger over the top of her. His look was smoldering. He drew in a breath through his nostrils.

Irrational arousal hung in the air. It wasn't all because of the gorgeous naked woman, either. It was from the undertones of Colter's command.

The two of them were not strangers to BDSM. They dabbled. At times, they dominated each other. It was undeniable that Colter could be more dominant than Bridger and with more frequency. It was equally undeniable that Bridger's cock got hard when his partner took charge.

Colter had gradually taken charge of this situation in the last ten minutes, and frankly, Bridger was grateful and relieved. He was incredibly disturbed by the fact that his grandfather had apparently purchased a human from the dark web. What the actual fuck?

Bridger had no clue what to do. Did they go against their word and call the police like reasonable human beings? Or did they take this woman home with them and pry her for more information?

The idea was ludicrous. Take her home? Jesus. No. Was it even legal? Would they be contributing to a crime?

Colter was still nailing Bridger to the couch with his intensity. "Here's what we're going to do. I don't want to stay here another minute, so we're going to find something for Daffodil to wear and get her the fuck out of here. We'll take her home with us and reevaluate there."

Bridger gave a brief nod. This was the most fucked-up situation of his life, and right now, he would gladly slide down onto his knees to show Colter his gratitude. He didn't even care if this strange woman watched.

Colter stepped closer to Bridger, crowding against him. He pressed one knee between Bridger's, set a hand on the back of the couch, tipped Bridger's head back with a grip on his chin, and met his gaze with a lifted brow.

Bridger swallowed hard. It had been a long time since he'd felt this level of dominance from Colter. They'd grown complacent in recent years, living life. They worked long hours, divided up the household chores, and often dropped into bed late at night, exhausted.

It had been months since they'd visited Roses and Thorns. When they did, they often role-played, and yes, it was usually Colter who did the dominating at the club, but sometimes, they switched things up.

The intensity radiating off Colter at this moment was welcome and fucking hot. He was waiting. That lifted brow was high and unwavering. He'd made a decision, and now he was waiting for agreement.

Bridger licked his suddenly dry lips. "Yes, Sir." He shuddered the moment the words left his mouth. The decision to submit to Colter had been instinctive and fluid, but he'd also set a tone.

"Good." Colter leaned forward and kissed Bridger on the lips, his gaze never wavering.

When Colter finally stepped back, he picked up the collar and connected leash and returned to the kitchen.

Bridger turned his gaze toward Daffodil.

She was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. As if suddenly realizing she was breaking about ten ingrained stupid rules, she jerked her gaze down. "Sorry, Master…"

Two seconds later, her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Please don't make me go to the police." She slid to the floor, dropping the sheet again as if it meant nothing to her. She was seemingly unaffected by her nudity.

She knelt in front of Bridger so fast he didn't even have time to process what she was in a panic about, but then he remembered telling her he wouldn't take her to the police if she would stop calling him Master. It had been a stupid thing to say.

Daffodil rocked back and forth on her knees in front of him. "Please, please, please," she begged.

Colter was behind her in a flash. He set his hands on her shoulders to stop the swaying.

Bridger leaned forward to lift her chin with one finger. "No one is calling the police, baby. You have my word. I shouldn't have made that demand. It wasn't feasible. You're not in trouble."

She bit her lip, eyes wide. They were the most stunning shade of green and mesmerizing. A man could get lost in them. Two men could get lost in them.

Colter grabbed the sheet yet again. He wrapped it around her, lifted her off the floor, and turned her sideways. Surprising Bridger, Colter settled her in his lap. "She's trembling like a leaf. Hold her. Let me find some damn clothes."

Daffodil shook violently in Bridger's embrace. It was impossible not to attempt to soothe her. She was living in hell, and Bridger didn't even know what her hell was made up of. He held her tightly, rocking her gently while Colter stomped down the hallway.

Bridger stroked her head and tucked it under his chin. "I've got you, baby. Take a deep breath. You're okay. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you."

"He'll find me," she murmured.

Bridger stiffened. "Who?"

"Master J."

"Do you know the rest of his name, baby?"

She shook her head.

Well, fuck. J was not enough information. "Was he the one who sold you?"

"Yes."

"Did he kidnap you?"

She hesitated. "No. The other bad man did. The police officer."

Bridger stopped breathing. He leaned Daffodil back and met her gaze. "A police officer abducted you?"

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she nodded.

No wonder she didn't want him to call the police. Fucking fuck. He tucked her head against his chest again, rubbing her back. "We will not call the police, okay?"

She sniffled.

Bridger had never seen a more broken human being in his life. What the hell were they going to do with her?