Chapter 5

Colter hurried back to the living room, frustrated. "There's not a stitch of clothing in this house. Nor is there any food." He paced and glanced out the front. No one was out there, and no one was paying attention to the fact that he and Bridger had rushed through the kitchen, out the back of the mansion, and down to this pool house.

He had to assume only two people knew there was a woman in this house—Bridger's fucked-up-beyond-belief grandfather and whoever the handler was.

Colter was still shaking inside, but he needed to keep his shit together. They needed to get Daffodil off this fucking property, if for no other reason than the fact that Colter couldn't breathe while they were anywhere near the estate.

He couldn't think either. He needed oxygen. He turned back to Bridger. "You're going to have to hold her. Let's get out of here." He headed for the kitchen area, opened the cabinet under the sink, and found a trash bag. After stuffing the collar and the chain into the bag, he turned to find Bridger standing by the door.

"We have two cars here," Bridger said.

"We're leaving yours. We'll send someone to get it tomorrow. It won't be you." He gave his best friend, partner, and lover a pointed stare. "You are not returning to this property for any reason ever again. Am I clear?"

Bridger nodded. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Colter was feeling unbelievably fucking dominant tonight. He'd never dominated his partner to this extent outside of a planned scene at Roses and Thorns. He had no idea what had come over him except that one of them had needed to make a decision and put a plan into action, and that hadn't been Bridger, so Colter had stepped up. Bridger was too close to the source of this problem. His own fucked-up grandfather had been the one to purchase a human being.

Colter also had no idea why he did what he did next. He stepped right into Bridger's space, sandwiching Daffodil between them, and gripped his lover's chin before repeating. "Am I clear?"

Bridger's eyes widened farther. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. I mean it, Bridger. Do not even fucking think of coming here again for any reason. If that asshole summons you, you call me immediately. Your ass does not darken the door. Not for that old geezer, not for his lawyer, and not even if his cook calls you. Never again."

Bridger nodded and repeated more firmly, "Yes, Sir."

If Colter wasn't mistaken, he could read relief in Bridger's gaze. Good. If Colter taking charge and making demands kept Bridger from being subjected to even one more moment of his grandfather's insanity, Colter would gladly issue a dozen commands just like that one, especially if his long-time lover was going to look at him with grateful eyes and lick his lips so suggestively.

When was the last time they'd had sex? Had they even had sex this week? Colter shuddered. They'd fallen into a rut and let their physical relationship take a back seat. That was about to change, starting now.

Colter loved this man with his entire being. They were so fucking seamless and perfect together. They'd known it from the moment they'd first met, and they'd rarely had a disagreement since that day.

As Colter continued to hold Bridger's chin, he prayed whatever one-hundred-eighty-degree turn they were about to take with this woman between them wouldn't shake up their own unflappable relationship.

Shit was about to get real, and neither of them were prepared for it. This woman needed them. Colter didn't have a fucking clue why, but they weren't going to let her down. He knew Bridger agreed.

The first thing they needed to do when they got to their penthouse would be to convince her to put some damn clothes on. She didn't seem to even notice she was naked. She didn't seem to care either. He was pretty sure she had no idea how fucking stunning she was.

As he released Bridger, he lowered a hand to her head again and stroked over her hair. She was clean. Wherever she'd been, she'd had a shower or a bath before she'd been sold. In fact, she was well groomed. Her nails, her hair, even her skin.

He gritted his teeth as he acknowledged that her pussy was completely bare. And fuck, but her damn nipples. He'd never be able to unsee those precious pink buds in his entire life.

He glanced back at Bridger as he set his hand on the door. He'd been in love with the man for a long time, but he wasn't dead or immune to other gorgeous humans, male or female.

"What if someone sees us?" Bridger asked as Colter opened the door.

"Fuck 'em." He stepped outside, held the door for Bridger, and closed it behind them.

Daffodil whimpered and tucked her face against Bridger's chest.

Colter wished he had a jacket on. He'd arrived home before Bridger and had already changed into jeans and a Henley when he'd gotten the call. Bridger, on the other hand, had been with a client. He wore a suit, minus the jacket, which was undoubtedly in his car.

As Colter led them up the stairs and then around the side of the main house toward the circle drive where he'd parked behind Bridger, he kept his gaze forward. He used his peripheral vision to pay attention to his surroundings but didn't notice anyone watching them.

That didn't mean no one was watching from inside the house, but again, fuck 'em.

"Are your keys in your pocket?" Colter asked Bridger as they reached his black Mercedes

"Yes. Why? I thought…"

Colter reached into Bridger's right pocket, where he knew his partner kept his keys, extracted them, and brought them to the passenger door. They just needed to be close enough for the lock to disengage so Colter could open the door.

He quickly snagged Bridger's suitcoat from where he'd draped it over the seat, tossed the keys on the seat, and shut the door.

Without a word, he led them to his SUV next, grateful this had been the car he'd chosen when he'd run down to the garage. He opened the rear passenger door wide. "Sit in the center. Hold on to her. I'll drive carefully."

Bridger slid in, keeping Daffodil in his arms. "So bossy," he muttered.

Colter smirked as he dropped the bag with the chain and collar on the floor before kneeling on the seat and leaning over to drape the suit coat over Daffodil. She was small. She couldn't weigh more than one-ten and wasn't much over five feet. And yet, she was trusting these two strange men twice her size to take her. What choice did she have?

Colter jogged around to the driver's side, climbed in, and started up the engine. It wasn't until he'd pulled down the circle drive and onto the road that he finally took a deep breath. Fuck, but that estate is stifling.

Colter glanced in the rearview mirror a thousand times.

Eventually, Bridger said, "She's asleep."

"Good. Lord knows when she last slept. I doubt she slept last night."

"We need to feed her," Bridger added.

"We will. First thing. You okay?" He met his partner's gaze in the mirror.

"Not even close."

Colter gave him a wan smile. "Fair enough."

"What the fuck are we doing?" Bridger whispered.

"Not a clue, but my gut tells me we have to get her to a safe place. Then we'll ask questions."

"Are we breaking any laws?" Bridger asked. Neither of them was the sort to skirt the law. They didn't speed, they didn't do drugs, they didn't drive drunk, and they didn't evade taxes. They certainly didn't purchase women on the dark web and keep them as sex slaves.

"I don't think so. We'll have to pull Nathaniel into this mess when we get it sorted and see what he thinks."

"Do you think her name is Daffodil?"

"Not a chance."

"Do you think she was a hooker?"

"No." Colter's gut didn't suggest that.

"Me neither."

Colter came to a light and held Bridger's gaze. "We'll figure this out," he said firmly.

"Thank God I have you," Bridger responded, not looking away.

Colter smiled broader. "Forever. Never doubt that."

Bridger's body relaxed. "By the way, not sure if I told you, but I have baggage."

Colter chuckled, trying not to make too much noise. It was a running joke between them. Every time Benjamin Arnoult stuck his nose into their lives, Bridger would say that same exact thing. It didn't happen often, but when Benjamin summoned him, it was never pretty.

Neither Colter nor Bridger had much of a past that affected their lives. Neither of them had been in serious relationships prior to this one. They hadn't gotten anyone pregnant or pissed anyone off. They hadn't had debt or financial problems or any other skeletons. Except Benjamin Arnoult. That fucker managed to create waves as often as he could.

It wasn't Bridger's fault his only living relative happened to be an eccentric piece of work, and Colter never blamed him for having to deal with the old fart. He wasn't mad at him tonight either, though he did wish Bridger would have called him on his way to the estate and given him a heads-up.

It wouldn't have changed anything, though. They'd still be in this position right now. This time, Benjamin had really shaken things up, and Colter vowed to himself this would be the last time. Not just because he was tired of dealing with the old man's bullshit, but he was also tired of watching Bridger mope around for two days after an incident.

This time, Bridger would be affected for far more than two days. He groaned. "Whoever brought her to the house, this handler she spoke of, knew she belonged to me. He gave her my name."

Colter winced. "Yes. We'll deal with that, but for now, let's assume he wouldn't dare do anything with that information. After all, he's a criminal of the worst sort. Why would he implicate you?"

Bridger nodded, his gaze on the woman resting in his arms. "She's…" He didn't finish that sentence.

Colter couldn't blame him. Where would he even begin? She's gorgeous? She's fucked-up? She has hold of both of us by the balls?

Colter pulled into the underground parking garage and rounded to their assigned spots. He'd never been more grateful that they had a designated elevator that only went to the penthouse. Small blessings. No one would see them entering with a naked woman in their arms.

Except for the security guard monitoring the cameras…

After Colter parked, he spun around to look at Bridger. "I'm going to talk to Billings in the security office to distract him. Give me thirty seconds, and then take her upstairs."

Bridger nodded. "God, your brain is working far better than mine. I wouldn't have thought of that."

Colter smiled before he reached over and squeezed Bridger's hand. "We're a team. Hang tight." He jumped down from the SUV and strolled over to the security office, thankful it was located in this garage and on this level.

Billings spun around in his chair when Colter opened the door. He was a large man with a killer smile. "Hey, Mr. Latimer." He rose and held out a hand. "Anything I can do for you?"

Colter leaned against the frame of the door. "Just thought I'd stop by and check in with you before I head up for the night. How's the job going?"

Billings gave him his usual huge smile. "It's going well. Cushy job, honestly. There are a lot more cameras to monitor since you and Bridger moved in, but there's never any crime in this building or even the garage, so I feel blessed."

Colter watched Bridger in the monitor behind Billings as he hurried toward the elevator and got inside. "Well, we're blessed to have you here. I feel safer knowing someone is keeping an eye on things."

Billing shrugged. "No big deal. Teenagers who live in the building goof around in the garage sometimes. That's about it."

Colter forced a chuckle. "Guess we were all teenagers at one point. I remember those days." He gave a fake shudder.

"How's Mr. Arnoult?"

"He's doing well."

"Good, good. I saw him leave earlier. Guess you beat him back home."

"Oh, he returned with me. He's already upstairs by now. We'll send someone to get his car tomorrow."

"Oh, good, good."

"You have a nice night, Billings."

"Will do, Mr. Latimer."

"Colter," Colter reminded him.

Billings chuckled. "Sure thing…Mr. Latimer."

Colter waved and took off for the elevator.

The damn thing couldn't move fast enough, and when he stepped off, he found the great room empty. So he hurried toward the hallway leading to the master bedroom, their office, a guest room, and a workout room.

He headed directly for the master bedroom on instinct.

Bridger had set Daffodil on their bed. She was awake, and she scrambled to her knees, once again letting the damn sheet fall off her, leaving her completely naked.

"I shouldn't be on the furniture," she insisted.

Colter joined Bridger and set a hand on the small of his back. "Honey, you can be on any furniture you want. New rules."

She jerked her attention to him. "Master J said?—"

"Master J is no longer your Master, is he?"

She licked her full pink lips. "No, Sir."

"He's not here either, and you'll never see him again," Colter promised. Over my dead body.

"You won't call the police?"

"Is there a connection between the police and Master J?" Bridger asked.

She pursed her lips and dropped her gaze, once again assuming that fucking slave pose, knees wide, pussy exposed, tits high, palms up on her thighs.

Colter leaned forward, trying desperately not to look at her stunning body. "Look at me, Daffodil."

She struggled with that order, and he knew it was because, on the one hand, she'd been trained not to look her Master in the eyes. On the other hand, she'd been taught to obey her Master. As far as she was concerned, these two men were her Masters.

She was trembling as she finally lifted her gaze.

"I don't know what you've been through, honey, but I can surmise it was hell on earth for the last sixteen months. You're free now. You're safe. We're going to help you. You will call us by our names, Colter and Bridger."

Her bottom lip trembled. "You won't call the police?"

This was obviously her primary concern, so Colter decided to address it again. "No, honey. Not without your permission. You have my word."

Her shoulders relaxed, and tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured. "I'll be good. I can?—"

Colter interrupted. "I'm sure there are a lot of things you can do, but in this home, you're our guest. You won't be doing anything except remembering who you were before you were taken and sold into slavery."

She shifted her attention to Bridger, who nodded in agreement. "He's right, baby. Now, let's find you something to wear."

She swallowed. "I'm not allowed to wear clothes."

"Who doesn't allow you to wear clothes?" Colter asked, hoping that if he played his cards right, he could get her to see things through a new lens.

"Master J."

"Is Master J here?"

"No, Sir."

"Is Master J still your Master?" Colter asked.

She hesitated. "No, Sir."

"Who are you supposed to obey now?"

"Master Arnoult." She shifted her gaze to Bridger.

Colter gripped Bridger's back with his palm.

Bridger got the message. "In this house, the rule is that all three of us need to be dressed unless we're alone in the bathroom."

Colter nearly choked. That wasn't going to fly between the sheets, but he said nothing.

She blinked a few times. This arrangement was unexpected to her, and it confused her greatly. "I haven't had clothes on for over a year, Sir," she whispered. "They might feel itchy."

Colter spun around and headed for one of the dressers, where he quickly snagged a soft white cotton T-shirt. He returned with it. "I bet this won't feel itchy, honey. Arms up." He held his breath as her breasts rose. She could be a pin-up model. Whoever sold her certainly dealt in high-end women, which meant she'd been sold for a lot of fucking money.

Colter wasn't the only one who breathed a barely audible sigh of relief as he lowered the shirt over her head. Bridger did, too.

Bridger nodded. "That's better. We'll order you some clothes first thing tomorrow, baby."

She looked down at herself for several seconds before suddenly dropping onto her bottom, tugging the sheet over her knees, and pulling her legs up to wrap her arms around her shins. She set her chin on her knees. "OhmyGod," she murmured. She started rocking forward and backward, holding herself in a ball, her gaze down.

Colter prayed something was clicking in her head. He sat gingerly next to her. "You're safe now," he reiterated. "You're safe in this house with us."

She lifted her face. Her eyes were clearer. "It's so soft," she murmured.

"What? The shirt?"

She nodded, more tears falling. "I'm not your slave?"

"No, baby," Bridger said, sitting on her other side. "You'll never be someone's slave again."

Colter agreed though he had no fucking idea how they were going to keep that promise. Something about her tugged at his soul. If they had to hide her in this penthouse for forty years to ensure she was safe, they would do so.

"Let's get you something to eat," Bridger suggested.

She lifted her tear-stained face. "I can cook for you."

Bridger shook his head. "You won't be cooking, Daffodil. Hell, we don't even cook. We have a—" He jerked his attention to Colter.

Colter winced. "Fuck." He jumped up. "I'll call Marie and tell her not to come tomorrow. I'll give her a week off."

As he rushed from the room to ensure their housekeeper didn't come tomorrow, he heard Bridger shout, "Make sure you still pay her."

Colter smirked. Of course, he would fucking pay her.