Martin hadn’t been this nervous in months. Not since the last time he’d seen his father, which made perfect sense. The strange thing was that it wasn’t the prospect of seeing his father that had him so on edge, but rather what Jack would do on seeing him. His stride matched Jack’s only because he hurried to keep up, the other man on a mission to cause as much pain to Martin’s father as possible.

Jack was positive that the elder Fitzgerald was behind Danny’s disappearance, though Martin wasn’t so sure. Taking Danny wouldn’t do anything except piss Jack off and bring attention to the other man that he likely didn’t want. He’d been extremely low-key since his last jab at them. Martin knew he was gearing up for something big, his father never knew when to quit, but doing it this way just wasn’t his style. Not that Jack was listening to reason right then.

Banging on the front door to the Fitzgerald mansion opened it almost instantly. Tomas stood on the other side, dressed impeccably in his uniform and eyes downcast as he greeted respectfully, “May I help you, Sirs?”

“FBI. Get Fitzgerald. Now!” Jack snarled.

Tomas risked a quick glimpse and Martin saw his eyes widen on recognizing him. He nodded and strode away, towards the study.

Martin tried again, soft-spoken as he said, “I don’t think he did it, Jack. It’s too obvious for him. He wouldn’t risk everything just to make you angry.”

Jack growled, “Martin, don’t talk to me right now. I’ll just say something I’ll regret.”

Hurt, Martin stiffened and crossed his arms over his chest, stepping a short distance away.

Victor’s voice carried to them with a snide tone as he greeted from the stairs, “And to what do I owe this displeasure?”

Martin looked over to where his father walked calmly down the stairs, as though he were perfectly at ease with Jack barging in at nearly midnight on a Tuesday. Something inside tightened and he had to fight the urge to drop to his knees. Simultaneously angry at himself and feeling sick, Martin took a step back, partially behind Jack’s bulk.

“If you’ve decided you’re sick of him, I don’t give refunds for used goods,” Victor continued smoothly.

Martin flushed with shame at his father’s dismissive glance, his own gaze dropping to study the tile.

Jack ordered harshly, “Give me your schedule for the day and know I intend to check each and every alibi.”

“Is this about your slave?”

Martin’s head jerked up at that, just in time to see Jack grab his father by the throat and shove him against the wall. He rushed over and tried to pull Jack off as the agent demanded, “What did you do with him? Where’s Danny?”

Victor pulled at Jack’s hand, gasping, “I don’t know! I noticed he wasn’t here and assumed something was wrong and you’d cast me as the villain! I have no idea where your slave is!”

Something in his eyes seemed to calm Jack down, at least marginally, because he let go and stepped back. “Schedule!”

Victor rattled off locations and meetings and people one after the other, which Martin quickly wrote them all down. Jack kept his eyes on Victor the entire time, probably trying to assess just how much of it was truth.

Finishing, Victor informed them, “As much as I’ve enjoyed this little chat, I want you to leave now. And don’t think I won’t call Van Buren tomorrow and report your conduct here tonight.”

“Knock yourself out,” Jack replied, stalking away.

Martin looked at his father trying to think of something, anything, to say and coming up empty. There was so much clamoring to get out that his throat closed on all of it.

“Martin! Get your ass in gear or stay, I don’t care which, but make up your mind.”

Shock kicked Martin in the gut at the cold decree, mingling with the hurt already present.

Victor sneered a bit as he said, “I would hurry with that decision, Martin, he’s already gone. Unless you’d like to come home?”

Martin ran out of the house, followed by his father’s mocking laughter. He’d only just jumped into the passenger’s side when Jack hit the gas. The momentum shoved Martin back into the cushions and slammed the door shut.

“We don’t fucking have time to waste here, Martin,” Jack said, voice hard. “If you’re not going to help, at least don’t fucking slow me down.”

Swallowing against a throat now tight with tears, Martin pulled on his seatbelt and turned towards the door. It was like living with a different man altogether; a cold man far too like his father for comfort. Since they’d realized that Danny was missing instead of just late, Jack had been driven, but once they’d checked all the hospitals, morgues, escaped slave pens, slave dealers, and jails, once all the obvious had been eliminated and only a deliberate kidnapping could be the result, this new Jack had emerged.

For the last five hours, Martin had been treated to a Jack who didn’t really care what he thought and certainly didn’t show him any respect. Really, one of the looks he’d flashed at Martin on thinking of Victor Fitzgerald had been pure loathing. He still wasn’t sure if it had been aimed at him, or his absent father. Martin understood how upset Jack was, knew that the man was reeling from the loss of his lover, not just his slave. He would just have to remain understanding and not hold anything Jack said against him later. These were exigent circumstances, after all.

It was a forty minute drive back to the city and another twenty to get to the office. Martin trailed behind Jack on the walk through the garage and carefully stayed out of reach in the elevator.

Once they got into the office, Jack called out, “What do we have?”

Viv answered, “Not much. We traced Danny’s steps for the day and everyone remembers seeing him until his three o’clock at the barbershop. He never made it there.”

Martin looked at the whiteboard, flinching at the picture of a smiling Danny taped to the top. Of course they would work it like a missing person’s case, as though Danny weren’t one of them. They had to remain objective, since Jack obviously wasn’t.

Jack cursed and then said, “So he was gone for a whole two hours before we even thought he was missing.”

Sam nodded as she replied gently, “Looks that way. What did Fitzgerald have to say?”

“Martin’s got his schedule for the day, not that it makes a difference,” Jack answered. “He didn’t do it. The trip was a complete waste of time.”

Viv countered, “You ruled him out. That’s not nothing.”

Jack shrugged off her words. “Any other similar cases?”

“We’re just looking into that now,” Sam told him.

Scowling, Jack demanded, “What have you been doing for the last two hours?”

Viv snapped, “Being thorough! Back off, Jack, or you’re off the case altogether.”

Jack took a breath and apologized, “That was out of line, I’m sorry. Okay. So. No witnesses to the abduction. It happened in broad daylight. He’s a slave, but had his card on him. He’s a well-off slave. As independent as a slave can be, up to carrying a firearm. Shit! Martin, make sure that any gunshot wounds or deaths that have come in don’t match his weapon.”

Martin nodded and silently took the opportunity to get away from Jack. He caught Viv’s curious glance by accident and managed a faint, hopefully reassuring smile before hightailing it to a computer. It was going to be a long night without making things worse by running to Viv because he was…a little nervous around Jack.

* * * *

Mac yawned and rubbed at his eyes, looking at his watch to discover that yes, he had again stayed past when he’d promised Danny. He debated calling the apartment to let him know that he was on the way and then decided against it. It was almost two in the morning, so Danny would be asleep. He had a big day the next day, taking his college placement exam. Mac had extracted a promise from him that he would just relax tonight and let his brain rest. It had taken some bribing, upgrading their season tickets to the Yankees, but Danny had agreed.

He’d aced the GED test a few months earlier, despite the lack of a formal education and Mac swelled with pride when he thought about just how damn smart the younger man was. Even though there was no rush, and he’d made sure that the slave had understood that, Danny was bound and determined to be a fully functioning member of the team as soon as he could.

“Aren’t you gone yet?”

Mac grinned at Stella’s pointed query and stood. “I’m going, I’m going. Danny probably passed out on the sofa waiting up for me.”

“Tell him we’re all rooting for him,” she ordered, smiling.

Picking up his briefcase, Mac nodded. “I will. Not that he doesn’t already know it.”

They walked together to the elevator where he said, “Sorry about the night shift.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it. If we short-handed, we’re short-handed.”

“Still. I could always…”

“Mac. Go.”

He huffed in amusement at her command and saluted as he walked onto the elevator. “Call if you need me.”

“We won’t,” she promised with another grin as the doors closed.

It took too long to get home. Not only was he tired from the insanely busy double shift, but he’d been fidgety all night. There’d been a nagging sensation in his gut of something not quite right and it had made an already long night far more so. Mac found himself rubbing constantly at his eyes on the drive home, unable to think of anything except herding Danny into bed and collapsing into it beside him.

Mac couldn’t believe how good the last several months had been and smiled as he thought about it. Danny had healed from his attempted suicide very quickly, thank God. It had been a week before Mac had felt comfortable letting Danny up and about, but then, the slave hadn’t been all that anxious to be up and about anyhow, perfectly content to remain chained to the bed. Mac had used a good portion of his vacation time to rebuild their foundation of trust and the time still made him feel as though nothing on earth could be more perfect.

Life had, of course, gotten back to normal the moment they’d gone back to work. Danny had split his time between Sheldon, Aiden, and Flack while studying his ass off for the GED and the college placement exams simultaneously. Mac had worried about burnout, but Stella had counseled him to patience and being watchful, not smothering. As much as it had pained him, there’d been no problems other than a couple of unexpected naps in the lab and Danny had blossomed under the showing of trust.

Mac blinked in surprise on finding himself parking in the garage. He barely remembered the trip there and shook his head, glad he hadn’t gotten into an accident on the way. Snagging his briefcase, Mac climbed out of the SUV and hit the alarm button before walking to the elevator. This close to home, his feet dragged and he could barely see straight. Sliding his key into the lock, he was pleased to find that it was, indeed, locked; something Danny still had trouble remembering to do sometimes.

Dropping his case near the door, Mac automatically locked it again and frowned on finding the apartment in darkness. Danny generally left on the kitchen and bathroom lights when he knew Mac would be late.

At least he’s not asleep on the sofa, Mac thought in vague amusement.

He walked quietly into the bedroom and curved towards the bathroom to take care of business there first. Stripping to nothing, he tossed his clothes in the hamper and scrubbed a tired hand through his hair as he turned off the light and stumbled into the bedroom. Mac carefully tugged back the covers and climbed into the bed with a yawn. He rolled over towards Danny’s side…and found it empty.

Startled, Mac reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. He pushed upright and saw that the other side of the bed was completely undisturbed. Alarm flared through him and he shouted, “Danny? Danny are you here?” while jumping out of bed, fueled by adrenaline.

There was no answer, not that he’d expected one, given how silent the apartment had been on his arrival. He turned on all the lights anyhow and searched, since there was the vaguest chance Danny might be there, but unconscious due to some kind of physical injury.

Mac’s stomach twisted violently when he didn’t find any sign that Danny had even made it home; his keys and the book bag he always carried around was missing. Sternly telling himself not to panic, even though he was, Mac grabbed his cell phone and called Danny’s cell. It went straight to voicemail…

“Yo. It’s Danny. You know what to do. And no, Mac, I’m not studying.”

“Danny, it’s Mac. Call me the second you get this,” Mac ordered, even though he knew it was a futile message.

Stella. He had to call Stella because even Mac knew that he was floundering in a combination of panic and exhaustion.

“No rest for the wicked Bonasera speaking and what the hell are you doing not asleep yet?” she greeted humorously.

Mac stated, “Danny’s gone. He’s not here. I don’t think he even made it home, because his things are missing, too.”

Instantly alert, Stella ordered, “Don’t move from there. I’ll grab Flack and we’ll be there with a team asap.”

“Okay. I’ll…be here,” Mac answered helplessly.

In his empty apartment.

Mac took a stab at pulling himself together and grabbed clothes, putting them on so he’d at least be dressed when people arrived. He wandered the rooms aimlessly for a few minutes, unable to stand still, and then muttered, “Screw it.”

He started canvassing their neighbors, banging on doors loud enough for multiple doors to open. Stella and Flack found him at door number three when they got there, getting the same answer as from the other two on his floor; no one had seen Danny at all that night.

Stella gripped his shoulder and promised, “We’ll find him, Mac. Aiden’s already searching all the regular places.”

“Right. Hospital, morgue, jails, slave pens,” Mac agreed, stomach twisting further at the thought of Danny in a slave pen.

Don asked, “Where’d you last see or talk to him?” while Stella guided him back to his apartment.

Mac didn’t even have to think as he answered, “The lab. We’d, ah, had some time together in my office and then he left to come home. Tomorrow, today’s the test.”

“Did he call you?” Don questioned.

Mac shook his head and then realized that he hadn’t checked his voicemail and cursed. Pulling it out, he found there was a voicemail and listened to it.

“Hey Mac. Just wanted to say you’re gonna get an extra special surprise if you make it home on time tonight. And if ya don’t, well, that’ll learn you about bein’ late so much. Love you. See you later. And…thanks for everything. I don’t say that near often enough.”

Mac’s eyes closed in pain at the warm, easy tone, but he forced them open and told them, “Just a regular message. There’s no sign of duress. He left it at five-oh-seven.”

Don wrote that down and asked, “How many open cases you got right now?”

“Just two,” Mac replied. “Relatively low importance.”

Because they were all important, it was just that some didn’t require around the clock attention.

Nodding, Flack told him, “I’m going to put out an APB with special circs and you are going to get some sleep.”

Mac opened his mouth to protest, but the cop held up a hand to stop the words.

“You’re running on fumes, Mac, you need at least a few hours of sleep to be any good to anyone,” Don continued. “Did you even notice that your shirt’s on inside-out and you don’t have any shoes on?”

Startled, Mac looked down at himself to discover that not only was his shirt on inside-out, but it was Danny’s and backwards to boot. Rubbing hot, gritty eyes, Mac ordered, “Call me when you find something. I don’t care how low my fumes are.”

Flack gripped his shoulder and squeezed it. “I will. Get some sleep and let Stella and me do for you, for once.’

He nodded since there wasn’t really any other choice, and followed them to the door, locking it behind them. Leaning on it for a moment, Mac sighed deeply, feeling ill in a way he hadn’t since Danny’s attempted suicide. He pushed off the door and stumbled to the sofa, knowing there was no way he could sleep in an empty bed.

Danny’s sweatshirt lay on the coffee table, so Mac pulled it on over the t-shirt and curled up with the blanket that still smelled of his lover, Danny spent so much time on the sofa with it. Mac had even teased him once about it being his security blanket and then discovered just how secure Danny really was, being on the receiving end of the younger man’s newfound confidence.

Even though Mac was sure he wouldn’t sleep, he did.

* * * *

Jack rested his head in his hands as he sat at the small conference room table, trying not to think about what could be happening to Danny. It had been a full four days since his kidnapping and nothing. There was absolutely no sign of him or who’d taken him. He knew better than anyone that the longer it took, the less likely they would find him. His other half. The heart of him. Jack couldn’t remember when it had happened, the slave had just snuck into him when he wasn’t looking with his humor and caring and support.

What’ll I do without him? he thought, agonized.

“Jack?”

Pissed that Martin would interrupt him when he’d deliberately gone out of his way not to be found, Jack glared at the other man and snapped, “What?”

Martin swallowed and stammered, “Y-y-you should come back to the office now.”

Standing, Jack strode over to him and shoved the Concubine against the wall. “I’m trying to get a few minutes to myself! Is that so Gods damned hard to understand? What’s your problem, huh, Martin?”

“I, I didn’t mean, I just, I was just…”

Jack snarled wordlessly at him and then demanded, “You want to take Danny’s place, Martin, is that it? Is that why you’re always hanging on me? Do you know what he’d do right now? He’d turn around and I would Claim him right here and now against this wall. Should I do that with you, Martin? Think that would help? Might calm me down, you never know. Always did when Danny did it.”

Martin fought him, but Jack knew what he was doing; he’d been in the military and the Concubine had only had a few self-defense courses. The other landed a couple of lucky hits, a flailing elbow clipping Jack on the cheek to bruise instantly. Jack won, though, pinning Martin face-first against the wall with his shirt torn off and pants down. The fight had triggered more than his rage at being harried and defied and helpless; he was hard as he ground against the bare hip.

Gripping Martin hard along the cleft of his ass, Jack hissed, “Think you can do better than Danny?”

“Jack! Get the fuck off him right now before I shoot you somewhere vital,” Viv shouted.

Between one blink and the next, Jack’s rage fled and he stumbled away from Martin. He felt sick as he watched the shaking man pull up his boxers and pants. Then he felt sicker when the Concubine turned and he saw the bruises that he’d inflicted on the slender torso. Hand to his stomach, Jack said harshly, “Jesus, Martin, I am so sorry,” reaching for him with his other hand only to have Martin flinch away from him.

Viv collected Martin and escorted him protectively out of the room while Jack collapsed into the nearest chair. If Viv hadn’t stopped him, he’d’ve done something unforgivable. There was no excuse for his behavior. None.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Viv demanded, moments later.

Swallowing down the nausea, Jack whispered, “I don’t know. Viv, I could have…I was going to…”

“Rape him,” she supplied, relentless. “Your Concubine, Jack. You were going to rape your Concubine.”

The flat statement caused him to rush for the nearest barrel and throw up what little was in his stomach. When his stomach stopped heaving, he spat a few times to try and get rid of the taste. Sitting on the floor, he looked up at the pissed woman and sighed wearily. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, physically. You’ve got some serious groveling to do otherwise, though, and in my opinion, he shouldn’t take you back,” she stated, dark eyes flashing. “You’ve been a cold bastard to him from the start of this, don’t think I didn’t notice. Just because he won’t fight back doesn’t mean you have the right to attack him like you’ve been doing.”

All of which Jack knew.

“And right now we don’t have time for you to try and get back in his good graces.”

Alerted by the words, he asked, “What happened?”

“Another Danny Taylor got taken last night,” Viv informed him.

Startled, though he shouldn’t be since it wasn’t a truly unusual name, Jack climbed to his feet and asked, “Another slave?”

She nodded and preceded him out of the conference room. “Belongs to a Detective Mac Taylor in Manhattan. It’s another instance of a slave on his own, too. Looks like Taylor sent him home when it was going to be a long night because he had a college entrance exam to take today.”

“A slave going to school?” Jack repeated, surprised. It wasn’t unheard of, though a bit unusual.

“You remember Gelnich going down for custodial interference a few months back?” Viv prompted.

Jack’s eyebrows lifted and he guessed, “These were them?”

“Among others,” she confirmed as they entered the bullpen. “Nearest Taylor figures, the grab took place between four in the afternoon and two a.m. this morning, which was when he got home to discover his slave had never made it there. The locals canvassed the apartment building and no one’d seen the slave, who’s a pretty popular guy, from all accounts. Sits for the neighbors’ kids, helps out the super, all of that.”

Jack’s gaze locked onto Martin, who sat at Sam’s desk in a new shirt. One of Danny’s t-shirts, it looked like, the material snug against his slightly broader shoulders. Martin kept his eyes on the floor, but Sam glared enough at him for Jack to sigh and turn back to Viv. “Let’s go interview Taylor.”

She nodded and then gave him a pointed look as she said, “I’ll be down at the car.”

Right. Commence groveling, he thought with a sigh. Walking over to Sam’s desk, he met the blond woman’s fierce gaze and asked, “Can we have a few minutes, Sam.”

It almost seemed like she was going to say no, but then she nodded and told Martin, “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

Martin flushed but mumbled, “Thanks.”

Jack waited until she was gone before saying, “I am so sorry, Martin. For everything. Viv’s right. I’ve been a cold bastard to you since Danny got taken and you did nothing to deserve it. It’s all on me and I understand if you don’t want to forgive me. What happened, what almost happened in that room…I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

Martin finally looked at him, when those last whispered words trailed off. He bit his lip and then said, “You’re under a lot of stress right now and, and I know you would have stopped before it had actually happened.”

Hot shame burst over Jack at those soft words, at the trust in them, because he knew that he wouldn’t have stopped. He’d been too far gone and if Viv hadn’t found them when she had, Jack would have raped Martin. Throat tight, Jack managed to ask, “Can I, can I hold you? Just for a minute. Please?”

Martin’s gaze turned wary at that, but he nodded slowly.

Jack slowly reached out, making no sudden movements, and stepped close enough to wrap his arms around Martin. The Concubine remained stiff in his arms for a long minute, but Jack stayed still, lips pressed to the soft hair. His patience paid off when Martin slowly relaxed against him, hands resting lightly on Jack’s hips.

Sighing, Jack said quietly, “Nothing like that will ever happen again, Martin, I swear it. I will give you full obeisance for what happened once there’s time and spend the rest of my life making up for it. You’re safe with me.”

Martin slid his arms around Jack’s waist and moved closer until they were flush together, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder as he whispered, “You really scared me, Jack.”

Wanting nothing more than to hold Martin until that fear went away, Jack squeezed him tight for a few seconds and then let go with another, heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

Martin gave him a faint smile as he briefly cupped Jack’s face and replied, “I know.”

“I have to go,” Jack said regretfully. “Viv’s waiting.”

Nodding, Martin ordered, “Find him, Jack. We both need him.”

Jack captured Martin’s hand and kissed the palm before striding towards the elevator, mind and body roiling with tension and emotion. At this point, he had to face the fact that they might not get Danny back. This new kidnapped slave could have been taken because their Danny was dead. He didn’t have the heart to tell Martin that, though, not so soon.

Stepping onto the elevator, Jack took a deep breath and released it, getting himself under control. He’d done so his whole life before Danny, he could do it now. By the time he got to the sedan where Viv waited, Jack had regained his composure. He met her gaze square on and preempted, “I’m fine. Let’s go to work.”

“Good,” she replied, opening her door.

He got into the driver’s seat and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Manhattan CSI,” she answered, buckling up.

Jack did the same and turned on the engine. He pulled out of the parking spot and left the garage without any trouble, joining the rush hour traffic with his usual aggression. It took longer than he would have liked to get there, but there was also nothing he could do about it. At least Viv had decided not to give him grief over the situation with Martin. Not that she wouldn’t at some point, because she would, as he so richly deserved. He knew that she was mentally preparing for the interview, though, same as him.

It was a busy place and it took a couple of tries to get someone to tell them where Detective Taylor’s office was located. Jack’s first impression of the man was military; the rigid posture, the lack of expression, and the straightforward way he met Jack’s gaze all combined.  A quick glance around the office confirmed his guess, spotting pictures of the man’s unit on a wall shelf.

“Special Agents Jack Malone and Vivian Johnson,” Jack introduced, taking the man’s hand. It was a strong grip, but not overly crushing. “We’re here about your missing slave.”

Taylor’s eyebrows lifted in apparent surprise and he commented, “I didn’t realize that slaves were considered people by the FBI.”

Lips twisting in aggravation, Jack replied, “They aren’t. My slave was taken four days ago. His name is Danny Taylor.”

Outright surprise flashed across the man’s face. “So there’s a pattern. We’ll have to run any other disappearances of the same name. Could be a serial…”

“Detective Taylor,” Vivian interrupted. “If we could talk to you about the timeline of your slave’s disappearance?”

“We don’t have time to waste,” Taylor countered, walking from the room. “If you want to interview me, you’ll have to do it on the move. Stella!”

A tall, long-haired beauty changed directions at the call of her name. She met them halfway, giving Jack and Viv a curious look before telling Taylor, “Nothing new. Aiden’s still running the prints and Flack’s got unis searching the neighborhood.”

“Another slave named Danny Taylor was taken four days ago,” Taylor informed her.

Jack questioned, “What prints are being run?”

Taylor explained, “We found Danny’s cell phone under a dumpster outside his favorite pizza place. It was scratched up, like he’d dropped it in a fight, and there were two prints not his on it. Aiden’s running them through all the databases.”

It was a hell of a lot more than they had. It looked like Taylor’s slave was a better fighter; or maybe he was just more paranoid and alert.

Stella said, “I’ll go run for other missing Danny Taylors,” and left before anyone could say anything.

Taylor called after her, “Expand it to anyone multiple named kidnappings!”

She waved back at them, but kept walking.

Jack tried to retake control of the interview by saying, “Our people are already on that.”

“Two sets of eyes are better than one,” Taylor replied, shrugging. “Come on. I want to see how the search is going. I don’t have use of the unis much longer. Slaves aren’t a priority for official resources, unfortunately.”

Jack met Viv’s amused gaze as they trailed after the detective and grimaced at her. He hated dealing with law enforcement types across the board. They always thought they knew better about how to handle things. Although from the high tech toys they passed down the hall, behind the lab glass, Jack had to admit that the facilities here were better than their own.

They met up with a tall, blue-eyed, brown haired man outside the building who held out an evidence bag with a sneaker in it and greeted tersely, “Found this a block from the pizza joint.”

Taylor’s jaw flexed as he took the clear bag and looked it over. “Blood on the canvas.”

“Might not be his,” the cop replied.

Taylor pinned the man with a sharp gaze and asked, “Nothing else?”

“Couple of tire peels a few feet away, like the guy burned rubber to get away. We’re questioning the locals and I’ll go back in the afternoon at the same time as Danny would’ve been there yesterday. I’ll take a couple of unis to find possible witnesses.”

“The tire prints…” Taylor began.

The cop interrupted, “Hawkes is on it, Mac. It’s under control.”

Taylor grimaced and finally introduced, “Detective Don Flack, these are Special Agents Jack Malone and Vivian Johnson. Malone’s slave, also named Danny Taylor, went missing four days ago.”

Flack blinked at them in surprise, even as he moved to shake hands. “So…what? We got some psycho who likes the name, or what?”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe he’s got a thing for slaves. Maybe he’s into Janus. At this point, it’s still all speculation,” Taylor answered tiredly.

“Mac! Mac, we got a match!” a female voice shouted.

Looking behind them, Jack found a dark-haired woman waving a sheet of paper as she ran to them. She skidded to a halt, breathing hard, and shoved the paper at Taylor.

Taylor read it and ordered Flack, “Get a team. We’re going to pay a visit to Ms. Hennassey.”

Flack’s face hardened and he snarled, “Bitch! I’m on it.”

Turning to Jack and Viv, Taylor said, “This might not have anything to do with your man after all. The print on Danny’s cell belongs to the woman who was Gelnich’s assistant. At one point, she threatened to liberate Danny with or without his cooperation.”

“Could she have overpowered him?” Jack asked skeptically.

Taylor shrugged. “Danny wouldn’t fight a woman, especially one he knows and likes. And besides, if she had a gun, it wouldn’t matter.”

True enough, Jack thought. Out loud, he said, “I think we’d like to tag along anyhow, if that’s okay?”

Taylor nodded. “Of course.”

Just in case, neither said, even though it was in the air.

*  *  *  * 

Danny groaned as the throbbing in his head woke him. He stayed still as he tried to catalogue what else hurt and came up with his ankle from where the door had slammed on it, and his wrist from falling on it during the blitz attack. He’d almost managed to get loose, too, but the bastard had been Big, capital B, and then the needle shoved into his throat, filling him with the Gods knew what.

“You okay?” a soft voice asked.

Opening his eyes proved to be a mistake as even the faint light cut into him like a knife. Definitely a concussion, he thought, remembering his thorough first aid course the previous month. He squinted in the voice’s general direction and found a guy about his age sitting a few feet away. Dark hair, slender, no shirt and a bruised cheek.

Not the jackoff who’d taken him.

Slowly pushing upright with his good hand, Danny answered, “Peachy. Who’re you?”

“Danny,” the other man replied. “I wrapped up your ankle and head the best I could, but shirts don’t make the best bandages.”

Danny scooted back a little so he could lean against the wall of their cell. And it was a cell; maybe ten by eight, concrete floor, metal walls, no windows, one door. Closing his eyes again, Danny said, “I’m Danny, too. How long you been here?”

“I don’t know. A few day, I think? The guy who took me only showed up once a day to bring me food and empty the bucket.”

Forcing himself to think, knowing that he had to in order to get them out of there, Danny questioned, “Big guy, muscles like a semi?”

“That’s the one. Look, you should get some more sleep while you can. Heal up as much as possible before whatever’s going to happen, happens.”

Cracking a lid at his cellmate, Danny observed, “You don’t look really freaked about this.”

“I’m more pissed than anything else,” the other Danny answered, grimacing. “I know better. I’m trained for this kind of thing.”

The expensive looking Chain on the man’s neck belied that statement. Danny prompted, “Trained?”

“I used to be FBI. Still am, sort of, since my Master leads a missing persons unit.”

Danny snorted, the irony not escaping him.

The other slave echoed, “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t think of that.”

“Now that we’ve established we’re both gullible morons, what’ve you done to try and get out of here?” Danny asked, closing his eye again.

“Nothing to do,” the other answered. “Door’s unmovable, no windows, walls are thick. I mean, I tried to break open the door and shouted until I lost my voice almost, but nothing. Although now there’s two of us, we should be able to overpower him, even if he is built like Conan.”

Danny frowned and asked, “O’Brian?”

“The Destroyer. You know, of the comics and books fame?”

Danny opened his eyes at that and asked, “You’re a nerd, aren’t you?”

Grinning a little, the other man answered, “Maybe a little. You?”

Danny shook his head and said, “Never had time for stuff like that. I’ve been a slave most of my life and, uh, my Master at the time didn’t really, you know, go for that kinda thing. And I was into sports, before that.”

The door opened unexpectedly, spilling light to cut into Danny’s brain so that he gasped and covered his face. He vaguely heard a few clatters and then the door shut again.

“Danny? Hey, you okay?” the other asked softly, lightly touching his shoulder.

Danny groaned, but nodded carefully. “I’ll be fine. Some help I was there, huh?”

A gentle hand rubbed his shoulder as the slave replied, “You’re still injured. There’ll be another chance. He left food, think you can eat?”

“Doubt it,” Danny answered.

“Okay, here. Lay down, rest your head on my thigh.”

Not a bad idea, he thought hazily. He stretched out and rested his head on the other slave’s lap, relaxing enough that sleep tugged at him. With the comforting motion of the other Danny’s hand through his hair, only a few minutes passed before he drifted into a real sleep.

*  *  *  *

Mac stared impassively at the young woman who sat calmly at the table in the FBI interrogation room. As much as it had galled him to admit, using their authority would be faster than trying to break Shari himself. She hadn’t changed since the last time he’d seen her, still exuding righteousness as though it belonged to her and her alone. If being dragged down to the FBI building from her office had scared her, it didn’t show.

Malone sat across from her and introduced pleasantly, “I’m Special Agent Jack Malone, Ms. Hennassey. I’m sorry to drag you all the way down here on what’s probably just a wild goose chase. You want something to drink? We got soda, water, coffee?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Shari answered, gaze flickering to where Mac stood against the wall. “What kind of wild goose chase involves cooperation between the NYPD and the FBI?”

She was smart, Mac had to give her that.

Jack smiled and answered, “We’ve lost a couple of slaves, I’m afraid, and your name came up due to some past…miscommunications with Detective Taylor.”

“He’s always been quick to judge,” Shari agreed.

Leaning back in his chair, Jack asked, “Would you mind telling me your whereabouts yesterday, starting after two in the afternoon?”

Drawing herself up primly, hands folding together, Shari replied, “I was giving a class at the Slave Welfare school building. You can ask anyone. I’ve taken over for Professor Gelnich since his unfortunate retirement.”

“And after that?”

“I was there until about six in the evening, then I had a dinner-date with a Kevin Shultz until approximately ten last night. After that I went home, which my doorman can confirm, and stayed there until I left this morning for my classes.”

Jack wrote it all down and asked, “Can I get Mr. Shultz’s number?”

“Of course. 212-555-3687.”

Jack closed his small notebook and stood. “That should do it. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Hennassey.”

Mac wanted to protest, but held back, waiting to see what else Malone would do.

She stood as well and walked towards the door with, “It was my pleasure, Agent Malone. I hope you find Danny, since Detective Taylor was so careless as to lose him.”

Without warning, Jack’s hand snapped out and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her backwards to slam her facedown on the table. Pinning her there, Jack whispered something into her ear and then shoved her at the door. Now her composure was definitely shaken and she swayed on the way to the door, hurrying out of it.

“That’s it?” Mac demanded angrily, pushing off the wall. “You’re not even going to hold her? I let you take her because I thought you’d do something to crack her!”

Cool, dark eyes met his as Malone replied, “I did. She’s not lying. She’s got nothing to do with this, whatever this is.”

“You can’t be sure! Her fingerprint…”

“Was on your slave’s cell phone, yes, but how long has he had it? Did he have it when they were still friends? How do you know she hasn’t seen him recently and he just didn’t tell you so as not to upset you? She’s not in on it, Taylor.”

Mac wanted to yell and argue, but heard the truth in the agent’s voice. He took a breath and then released it slowly. “So what do you suggest now?”

“Call your people. See if that blood on the sneaker belongs to your slave or someone else. Check and see if Flack found anything in his afternoon canvas,” Malone ordered. “I’m going to see what’s come up about the double name thing. I’ll meet you out in the office.”

Glaring at the man’s back, Mac pulled out his cell and called Stella. A tension headache, aggravated by the amount of caffeine he’d had so far that day, pounded behind his eyes as he waited for her to pick up.

“How’d it go?” Stella asked.

Mac’s fist clenched around the phone as he answered, “It didn’t. She’s not in on it. What’s the status of the blood evidence?”

“It’s Danny and an unknown source. We got lucky, Mac.”

If by lucky, she meant knowing for sure that Danny had been injured somehow, then yes, they were very lucky. Mac tamped down the thought and concentrated on the fact that they had a place to start.

“We also got some trace that Aiden’s making sense of from the bottom of the sneakers, in the grooves,” she continued. “A mix of dirt and something else we haven’t identified yet.”

A sliver of relief went through him at the announcement. The more difficult it was to ID, the rarer it would be and the less chance it would be widespread, narrowing their field a good portion. Taking another breath, he said, “Good.”

“Hawkes found that the tire prints came from an all-season radial used primarily for four wheel drive vehicles. He’s narrowing it down further now.”

“Keep on it, Stella, I’m going to check in with Don and see how that’s going.”

Mac hung up before she could respond and dialed Flack’s number.

Don answered his phone with a growled, “Nothing yet, Mac, give me some time already!”

Snorting, Mac told him, “Nice to talk to you too, Don.”

“Sorry. Look, I’ll call you if anything hits, but it’s lookin’ like a bust so far,” Flack said.

Mac rubbed his eyes and answered, “All right. Call me when you find something,” before disconnecting. When, not if, was how he had to think about it. Anything with less certainty would give him a screaming fit that he just could not afford.

Leaving the interrogation room, Mac headed for the office where he found Malone and Johnson talking with a tall, blond woman and a brown-haired, slender man. They all stood in front of a whiteboard with pictures on it, one of which showed his Danny with a pained expression. Mac recognized it as the day they’d had to testify against Professor Gelnich. There were seven other pictures taped up, though, so he asked, “Who are all these people?”

The blond agent answered, “That’s our Danny. These two are Tina Welshes, those two are Frank Martinezes, these two are Maia Clarkses. All missing for six days before being found murdered on the seventh.”

It felt like the floor had dropped out from under him and if Johnson hadn’t grabbed him, Mac might have fallen.

“Easy there, come on, sit down over here,” the black woman soothed, leading him to a chair. “Sam, get him some water.”

Sam rushed over with a bottle of water, which Mac took, and apologized, “I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that, I’m sorry.”

Mac drank down half the bottle, just so he could have time to organize his thoughts. When he finally set it down, he said, “No need to apologize. I’m just running on fumes, that’s all. So. This has happened before, multiple times. Why didn’t anyone put together the pattern?”

She answered, “They’re all slaves. Half of the owners didn’t even notice they were missing until they turned up dead. The other half were regretful, but had no real attachment to the slaves in question. No one cared to investigate until now.”

“Which is what the killer is still counting on,” Malone interjected. “He got sloppy, thinking that no one will care about these two, either. He left behind evidence. Didn’t plan as well, taking slaves who are prized. He also didn’t think they would fight back, which your Danny did.”

Sam added, “The good news is that the seven days doesn’t start until the second victim gets taken, so we have time.”

Mac forced himself to ask, “What about signs of trauma? And how were they killed?”

“No visible signs of assault from the autopsy photos, but they were all cremated so there aren’t any bodies to exhume. They were all killed with a single stab wound to the heart,” Vivian told him, petting Mac’s shoulder.

Mac requested, “I’d like the autopsy photos to go to my own ME to look at. He’s very good at recreating things.”

“What did your people say?” Malone asked, even as he nodded at Sam, who walked away.

“Extra trace from the sneakers, so far unidentifiable, two blood types of which only one is Danny’s, some kind of four-wheel drive vehicle was involved, which they’re narrowing down now, and no sign of any witnesses so far.”

Malone’s lips pursed and he commented, “Your people move fast.”

“They’re the best,” Mac stated simply.

“J-Jack?”

Mac looked over at the young man who had as yet said nothing. The stammer surprised him into looking closer at the previously silent agent and then realized that he didn’t carry either badge or gun and so wasn’t one. But he didn’t wear a Chain, either, which didn’t leave any obvious conclusions as to his identity.

Malone turned towards the younger man and asked, “Yes, Martin?”

Martin met Malone’s gaze only briefly before sliding away again as he said, “I was thinking about, um, the double name thing.”

“What about it, Martin?” Johnson questioned gently.

Mac’s head hurt even more trying to figure out the interpersonal dynamics playing out in front of him. Clearly, Martin was part of the team, but he seemed wary of Jack, his body language uncomfortable and partially turned away from the agent. Not to mention the protective, encouraging tone Johnson had taken with him. The bruise on Malone’s cheek suddenly took on new meaning in Mac’s eyes and he could only be glad that whatever had gone down, it wasn’t affecting their professionalism.

Directing his answer to the black woman, Martin explained, “I went through a religious period in my early twenties. It was one of the few things my father couldn’t deny me, not if he didn’t want to anger my mother, who’s very pious. Anyhow, there’s a little known God in the pantheon called Janus. He was signified by a statue with two heads facing in opposite directions. Not faces, but actual heads, back to back. Two different entities sharing the same space, in a way.”

Mac’s brain kicked in, even as the young man continued. He’d even rattled off Janus’ name shortly after meeting Malone, though he hadn’t seriously considered the God to be a serious factor at the time.

“He’s kind of a…well, he signifies new beginnings and the middle ground, like between war and peace, civility and barbarity, things like that. And while he doesn’t encourage violence as such, his temple doors always stood open during wars and closed once peace had been reached. It’s possible, if we’ve got some kind of religious nut doing this, that he’s sacrificing to his God by taking two people of the same name. I mean, look at the people on the board. Their names are the only thing even close to having common ground. They’re at opposite ends of the spectrum.”

Mac looked at the board and saw what Martin meant. The two Maias were not only different races, but the white girl had tattoos and piecings while the black woman dressed in as conservative slave clothes as possible. The two Tinas were both white, but according to their stats, the masters were rival businessmen; what were the odds on that? And one Frank looked like a nerd of some kind while the other could give construction workers a run for their money.

Malone nodded slowly and said, “I think you’ve got something, Martin. Good catch. Hey, Viv. Take a look at any priests who are currently without a temple. Ones that have been kicked out or left under a cloud in the last…when did the first two show up? Eleven months ago.”

“I’m on it,” she replied, walking to another desk.

Looking at Martin, the agent said, “Any affiliations she should look for?”

Martin shook his head, shifting almost causally away when Malone stepped a little closer. “No, Janus is pretty solitary. There’s not even an equivalent in the Grecian pantheon and usually there’s some spillover to that effect.”

“And now we’re at the point I hate the most,” Malone commented.

Mac knew what he was talking about. All the leads they had were being actively worked by other people, so there was nothing left to be done.

Malone asked, “Martin, could you bring Detective Taylor to get something to eat?”

The only reason Mac didn’t protest was because he was curious as to the back story of the team helping him find Danny. He needed to know if tensions would interfere or if what had happened was minor enough not to matter.

Blue eyes so like Danny’s, also shy and yet bright, met Mac’s and Martin agreed, “I can take you down to the cafeteria.”

“Don’t forget to eat something yourself, Martin,” Malone admonished, even as he sounded uncertain somehow.

Martin nodded, but didn’t look at him as he walked towards the elevators.

Mac followed, even more intrigued.

*  *  *  *

The detective didn’t make Martin uncomfortable, exactly, but his intent gaze was disconcerting, to say the least. Pale blue eyes set in a handsome face, a solid body, an air of authority very similar to Jack…all of it served to keep Martin on the alert. Something was on the other man’s mind, other than his missing slave, that much was obvious. Martin wasn’t sure how to bring it up, or even if he should.

When they ended at a booth in the back corner of the mostly empty cafeteria, Martin wasn’t surprised that the other man slid into the side against the wall. He was probably ex-military, like Jack. Picking at his salad, not hungry in the least, Martin drank some of the soda instead.

“You should eat,” Detective Taylor urged quietly. “You look like you need the fuel.”

Martin half-smiled and said, “I’m fine, thank you Detective.”

Smiling back, the other man corrected, “It’s Mac. And you don’t look fine. Of course, that salad doesn’t look all that appealing either. Hold on.”

Martin watched, nonplussed, as the cop stood up and got back in line. When he came back, he dropped several very fattening snack foods on the table. Amused, Martin looked up at the other man and observed, “Everyone thinks I’m too skinny.”

“You are,” Mac confirmed. “Those will help your energy a little, too. Though you should get some fruit later just to keep yourself going.”

Picking up one of the cupcakes, Martin pulled off the paper and suggested hesitantly, “You can ask me whatever it is that you want to ask me.”

“Did you give Malone his shiner and if so, why?”

The blunt question caused Martin to stop with the cupcake halfway to his mouth. He set it back down and looked at the table as he thought about how to answer.

“Scratch that one for now,” Mac said. “Who are you, Martin? You’re not an agent, but you’re on the team?”

That one, he could answer. Looking over at those blue eyes, he explained, “I’m Jack’s Concubine. He found me several months ago when I’d been taken from my father. I didn’t want to return to my father, so I went with Jack instead. He took me in when I needed someone, loved and cared for me. So did Danny. I was…not the most balanced person at the time.”

Mac made a nonjudgmental noise and questioned, “Sounds like a rough time.”

“I was fine, once I was at Jack’s,” Martin said hastily. “Really, this isn’t Jack at his best. He’s very upset about losing Danny. I think he even thought that maybe Danny was already dead.”

Mac sipped at his coffee before asking, “So you went right from your father’s house, to Jack’s?”

“I did,” Martin confirmed. Back on safer territory, he took a bite from the cupcake, sugar bursting over his tongue in a pleasant way.

“Did you not want to be on your own?”

The question took Martin by surprise. Frowning slightly, he countered, “Why would I want to be? Jack and Danny love me. I love them.”

“And yet, you’re scared of Malone right now. He did something that caused you to fight him, you gave him that bruise.”

The statement caused a flush to creep over Martin’s face. “Jack wasn’t himself. And, he didn’t do anything, not really. I’m not scared of him, Detective, truly. Just…right now’s not a good time for him. I’m…giving him some space, I guess the phrase is.”

Mac leaned forward to gently put his hand on Martin’s as he said, “You’re scared of him. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand that, but you have options. You’re a Concubine, Martin, not a slave. There are so many people out there who would cherish you, given half the chance. They would never lay rough hands on you.”

Martin’s eyebrows rose and he half-accused, “Yourself included?”

“Myself included, if Danny weren’t so fragile,” Mac replied, smiling. “But then, maybe you might help with that. He could take care of you. Danny’s always happiest when helping other people and there isn’t much he can do for me. I’m too old and set in my ways. What about the Guild? Or a Temple? You know that you can go to any of them and they’ll give you a place to stay until you figure out what you want to do.”

Martin blinked at him in surprise, not having known that. Did Jack? Had he kept it from Martin for some reason?

“And I guess you didn’t know,” Mac murmured.

Shaking his head, Martin took another sip of the soda to settle his stomach. He shouldn’t have eaten sugar when it was empty.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

And looking into the other man’s steady gaze, so different and so much the same as Jack’s, Martin found that he did want to talk about it. That he needed to talk about it. The whole, horrible affair poured out of him, words tumbling over themselves as he practically vomited up the experience of everything since Danny had gone missing. The fear and uncertainty. The thoughts that Jack didn’t love him, that he loved only Danny. The awful, near-rape in the conference room that had almost broken him into a hundred pieces.

By the time he wound down, his hands shook and his voice was hoarse and he couldn’t look at the detective any longer. He was mortified about revealing so much and shamed at having cast Jack in such a bad light.

“Martin, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Martin did so and found no censure or disgust staring back at him.

Mac continued gently, “No matter how this turns out, I want you to have my card. In case Malone loses it again and you need somewhere to go. You can stay with us or I can bring you to a Temple, whichever you prefer.”

A familiar tread across the cafeteria caused Martin to jerk his hand out from under Mac’s. He flushed again, unable to even look at Jack when the other man stopped at their table.

“Malone,” Mac greeted coolly.

Jack’s voice was positively menacing as he replied, “Taylor. We’ve got something, if you can tear yourself away from my Concubine.”

Martin’s stomach roiled at the anger underlying Jack’s voice.

Mac stood and replied, “You might want to ask yourself why your Concubine needs to talk to a virtual stranger. Martin? Are you all right, or do you want to come with me now?”

Nearly groaning at what would be a red flag to a bull for Jack, Martin briefly met the detective’s gaze and answered, “I’m fine, thank you, Mac.”

He watched, astounded, as the cop stared down Jack before leaving them.

Once Mac was gone, Jack said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Wondering if the other man would ever stop saying that, Martin told him, “It’s all right. I just, I didn’t mean to tell him so much, I just, I guess I couldn’t stop talking.”

Jack sighed heavily, but only replied, “And if I’d given you what you needed, you wouldn’t have to feel that way.”

That hound-dog expression Jack was so very good at surfaced, immediately making Martin want to gather the other into his arms and soothe him. He settled on taking Jack’s hand and lacing their fingers together as he stood and said, “We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” Jack agreed, squeezing briefly. “In the meantime, we really do have something, so we should go upstairs. Did you eat?  Here, let me get those so you can finish them. Junk food? You never eat junk food. Danny has to practically force feed it to you.”

“Mac thought the instant energy was a good idea,” Martin half-apologized, feeling as though he’d betrayed them by eating it.

Jack’s sigh had a rueful air to it and he said, “Don’t apologize for eating, Martin. God, I already feel like a bastard.”

“I wasn’t trying to…” Martin broke off when he caught the twinkle in the other man’s eyes. Rolling his eyes, he scolded, “It’s not nice to tease.”

Chuckling, Jack tugged him across the cafeteria, not letting go of his hand as he replied, “Just trying to lighten things up a little.”

Martin smiled and let himself be guided towards the elevator. When they got back to the office, he expected Jack to release him, but that didn’t happen. Jack leaned against Sam’s desk and tugged Martin to rest against him, wrapping his arm around Martin’s waist. It was the most physical affection the other man had ever shown in the office and startled him, even as it made him smile and lean more fully against Jack.

A tall woman with long, curly brown hair was going over something with Mac near the board and then the detective said, “The DNA my team recovered from the sneaker belongs to a man named Ron Diarmind who escaped from a mental facility upstate. He’d been sentenced there in lieu of slavery and a workcamp, not deemed competent to stand trial. There’s some question about whether or not he had help escaping. The doctors there don’t believe he has the capacity to plan, but he is violently loyal to those he follows.”

“So he could be the point man, grabbing the slaves at someone else’s bequest,” Viv commented.

Mac nodded and continued, “The trace belongs to a fairly uncommon form of incense.”

Jack asked sharply, “Uncommon enough to trace?”

Another nod as Mac finished, “Aiden’s working on that now. And the tire treads led to either Land Rovers or Range Rovers, older ones.”

“So we’ve got a religious nut with at least one devoted acolyte and one of them owns an older Rover,” Sam summarized.

The newcomer quirked a grin at Sam and said, “It might not sound like a lot, but we’ve put out a quiet APB on Diarmind with instructions to contact both our departments in the event of a sighting. No one’s going to arrest him without calling us first.”

Martin had the brief thought that if they had resources like this for every case, they might get a lot more people back. The Federal resources were bigger in most areas, but there was also a lot of oversight and the technology was sadly lacking for missing people. It just wasn’t in the budget for a world that mostly thought Fate was already decided. If you went missing, you were supposed to go missing, and why anger the Gods by trying to get the victim back?

Jack rubbed Martin’s hip before standing up and walking over to Mac and the woman. “Thanks for all your help. You’ve sped things up a lot.”

Mac shrugged and told him, “Thank me when we get them back.”

Martin would not only thank him, once they got Danny back safe, but make a donation to the Temple of his choice.

* * * *

Danny stroked his fingers through the soft blondish hair of his new companion, hopefully soothing him in his sleep so the injuries didn’t hurt as much. He’d thought for sure that he would die alone and in a lot of pain. Most slaves that got taken wound up like that. He’d seen enough of the reports to know that for a fact. Danny still couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. He knew better than to let his guard down like he had, but the man had supposedly been injured and he’d also been trained to help people.

No more going into alleys to help people unless someone’s with me, he vowed, even knowing it was a futile promise.

Gazing down at the other Danny, he couldn’t help but smile at the little-boy-lost the other seemed behind his glasses. The last day of rest and food had proved beneficial to the injuries. The ankle’s swelling had decreased, as had the dizziness, and Danny had promised there was no residual nausea at all. All of which told him the other man was on the mend, fortunately.

Danny felt…connected somehow, beyond their name. Maybe it was just a strange kind of Stockholm Syndrome and he’d bonded to the other slave because of their shared situation. Maybe he was just weak and needed someone to take care of, like he did for Jack and Martin.

He sighed thinking of his two Masters, missing them intensely. Knowing Jack as he did, Danny could only fear for them as the older man’s anger and helplessness increased. If he didn’t do anything stupid, it would be a miracle and Danny wasn’t prone to believing in miracles. Not when it came to the many idiocies of man. No, Jack would probably mouth off to Martin and poor Martin wouldn’t know how to handle it.

His thoughts meandered from there to how he’d last ‘handled’ Jack, the morning before he’d been kidnapped. Danny had woken to the feel of his Master’s cock inside him and already moving in slow, small increments. As soon as he’d woken completely, Martin had smiled and whispered, “Happy Anniversary,” before pushing back, onto Danny’s shaft. The two of them had ridden him in their own ways for a long time, working in concert to keep him from coming for what had felt like hours.

“Feels good, thanks,” Danny slurred.

A bit startled to discover his other hand sliding over Danny’s chest, he kept up the caresses and then leaned down to kiss the other slave’s forehead. “Don’t worry. We’re going to be fine. Jack and Martin and your Mac will find us.”

The other Danny sighed deeply and turned onto his side, facing Danny’s groin. Between the near contact and thoughts of Martin and Jack, Danny groaned softly while his dick hardened. As if in response to that, the other man nuzzled at his cock through the pants. Danny gasped at the blatant touch, his hips pushing up so that the other Danny mouthed the fabric, sucking on him.

Reaching down further, he gripped between Danny’s legs and rubbed him, finding the dick hard beneath the pants. This prompted stronger sucking and a kind of feedback loop where Danny rubbed harder and his namesake sucked harder in response until they both came. Panting, Danny took a few minutes to clear his head, his fingers laced into the spiky hair, holding the other’s head against him.

Swallowing convulsively, wide-eyed behind his glasses and now very awake, Danny whispered, “What did we do?”

Danny moved to straddle the other man pinning his wrists to the concrete. He undulated over the other and whispered back, “Comforted each other.”

“No, I can’t…Danny, this isn’t right, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Ignoring the protest, Danny bent and took the other man’s mouth in a strong, hungry kiss. For all he knew, they were going to die at any moment. It took a few minutes for Danny to come around, but he did, opening his mouth with a groan of need as his legs spread. Sliding down the lightly muscled body, he kissed the bare chest, lingering over the nipples until they were hard and then continuing down.

It wasn’t long before they were both nude and he had Danny’s cock in his mouth, employing all his considerable skills to bring him off. He’d never sucked off anyone other than Jack and Martin; finding his rhythm on a new dick proved a challenge that he happily accepted. Not for long, though, since he had a driving need to get inside the other man.

The blond was so far gone that it was easy to roll him onto his stomach and go after his ass. His tongue licked along the cleft and then pushed inside, slicking him up the only way he could. Danny kept at it until the other man shuddered under him and begged, “Please, oh Gods, please, please fuck me!”

Stroking himself a few times, Danny spread the pre-come all over his shaft and head to help as much as possible. He pulled the shaking body onto hands and knees and slowly pushed inside the willing hole. Lust addled his mind, but he remained in control, hands tightly gripping Danny’s hips to hold him in place when the other tried to shove back on him. He bottomed out and stayed there, moving his dick around inside without actually fucking in and out.

Then the urge couldn’t be restrained and he began moving. He took it easy at first, but it wasn’t long until Danny slammed into the other man, fucking hard and fast. The other cried out multiple times, a sound that combined pleasure and sorrow in some fashion that almost broke through his lust. Almost. Reaching underneath, he started stroking in counterpoint to the fucking, determined that only pleasure should sound in their cell.

It wasn’t until after he’d struck the prostate several times in a row that the other man let out a cry of pure need and release. His body clamped down on Danny’s, breaking his rhythm and nearly drawing out his orgasm. Shoving the other down flat, Danny humped savagely into the utterly pliant man and finally came, riding him until the last of his seed was spent.

Shuddering and panting, Danny lay collapsed on his fellow captive and hugged tight to him. For a long time he simply stayed put, enjoying the full-body contact. The door opened unexpectedly and Danny pulled clumsily and fast from the other’s hole, wincing at the faint gasp of pain. It was their kidnapper come with a tray of food. The big man sniffed the air and then smirked, but didn’t say anything before leaving.

He found no blood on his dick, so Danny pulled the tray over to where the other slave still sprawled over the concrete. Nudging him, Danny said, “We need to eat and stay strong. Come on. We’ll be able to get the drop on him next time for sure.”

A few minutes passed before the other man dragged himself into a sitting position and joined him in clearing off the food on the tray. It was simple fare of roast beef with mashed potatoes, but still really good with hunger as the sauce. And clear, cool water to wash it down.

Glancing sideways, Danny questioned, “You okay? You ever done that with anyone but your Masters?”

A bitter sounding laugh echoed between them as the other Danny answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve done that plenty. My first Master, well, he liked to use me as a party favor sometimes. Often enough that it shouldn’t bother me we just did that. It’s…this is a fucked up situation, right? We should, um, this should be okay, right?”

Danny nodded firmly. “It is. We could die at any moment. I know my Masters wouldn’t begrudge me some comfort if it comes to that.”

“Masters? You have more than one?”

“I do,” Danny confirmed proudly. “Martin’s a Concubine and hasn’t been with us a year yet, but I’m his as much as I’m Jack’s.”

Seeing that talk of their Masters had brought a despondent expression, he climbed onto the other man so that Danny had to lie back. Thrusting slowly over the other’s crotch, stroking their dicks together caused both to groan, the sensitive skin protesting. He didn’t stop until they were both hard, wanting to banish that troubled look and replace it with pleasure and need. He also wanted to take Danny this way, watch his face while they fucked.

He lifted strong legs over his shoulder and slid right into the opened hole, burying himself to the root. The other slave shuddered violently at the possession, blue eyes clenched shut and fingernails digging into Danny’s biceps as the thrusting began, strong and merciless.

* * * *

“I’ve got him!”

Mac’s head jerked around at Viv’s exclamation, as did Martin’s. There’d been no breaks in the last twenty-four hours, even with the combined resources, so any announcement in that fashion deserved attention.

He’d been talking quietly with the Concubine for the last ten minutes, trying to regain the easiness between them that had been lost with his revelations of the younger man’s options the day before. He was still a little confused as to how Martin couldn’t know he could just go back to the Guild. Had he left under some kind of disgrace and thought they wouldn’t welcome him back, no matter that he was a Concubine?

Facing them with a triumphant expression, the black woman announced, “Ed Polsin, fifty-eight, expelled from Diana’s Temple thirteen months ago. He was caught trying to manipulate factions into outright conflict and summarily defrocked and thrown out. After, he got work at the same mental facility from where Diarmind escaped, but was only there a few weeks after the escape and then quit.”

“Probably just long enough to throw off suspicion,” Mac commented.

She nodded and continued, “Our ex-Flamen vanished off the grid, but before then, he bought a 1991 Land Rover. And he owns a warehouse, thanks to an inheritance from a dead uncle a couple of years ago. Dead, by the way, under suspicious circumstances.”

Malone growled, “He’s been planning this a long time.”

Mac looked at Malone to find the same controlled, pissed expression he knew was on his own face. They had the bastard, dead to rights, and it was past time to collect what was theirs. He waited impatiently while the orders and the address went out, following hot on Malone’s heels and climbing in the passenger’s seat, refusing to be left behind. Not that it seemed as though the agent was trying to shake him, but better safe than sorry.

Martin climbed into the back seat, but leaned forward to put his hand on Malone’s shoulder as the agent drove out of the garage and into traffic with the sirens and lights blaring. Mac grimaced to himself at the gesture, even though he knew it was none of his business. He’d found the two men cornered together in Malone’s office early that morning, before any of the others had returned from the sleep the senior agent had ordered. Martin had been standing in Malone’s arms being kissed slow and gentle, as though the older man were afraid of spooking him. Given the Concubine’s body language of the day before, that had been likely.

Everything seemed fine between them now, though. Mac didn’t know how much of that was surface and how much real, but he’d been determined to make sure Martin knew he had other choices.

They reached the warehouse twenty-five minutes later, whereupon the sirens and lights were turned off. The building was old and not well maintained, sitting at the end of a row of decrepit structures that should probably be torn down. The Land Rover was out front where they pulled up and Mac’s gut tightened in anticipation and fear. This was where things could go very wrong. If Polsin had a camera system in place and saw them coming, he could just kill both slaves out of hand.

The door was unlocked, strangely enough, so they went in quiet. The gun in his hand felt heavy and reassuring and Mac ached to use it on the bastard who’d taken Danny from him. Inside was mostly one large, open space. There was an office off to the side, which was where Malone and the majority of the team headed. Mac aimed straight for the small, metal room opposite a large, ornate altar.

He tried the door there and found it locked. Snarling in anger and impatience, Mac turned back at the shouting from behind and saw Polsin and Diarmind dragged from the office. He strode to them and demanded, “Where are the keys?”

Polsin gave him an eerie grin and said, “They are no longer your slaves. They belong to Janus now and will usher in a new era!”

Mac backhanded him and snapped, “The keys!”

But Polsin only laughed and laughed, obviously off his nut.

Rushing over to the room again, he shouted, “Danny? Danny, can you hear me? It’s Mac!”

There was no response, which renewed his fear, and then Malone ordered, “Move, Taylor.”

Mac stepped aside when he saw two of the bigger agents walk forward with a portable battering ram. He called out, “Stay back from the door, Danny! We’re coming through!”

They broke down the door on the fourth try, the metal finally giving way, and Mac shoved his way forward only to stop short in horror. The two missing slaves lay passed out on the floor, a tray of half-eaten food nearby. The part he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around way how the dark-haired Danny surrounded his own Danny, clearly joined at cock and ass, arms wrapped tight around his companion…around Mac’s Danny. The room smelled of sex and both men were covered in come, hair sticky with sweat.

“What the fuck?!” Malone hissed.

Martin immediately stepped between the agent and the slaves, pleading, “Master, Master, please, don’t do something you’ll regret!”

It was good advice and Mac took it as well. Taking a breath and then wishing he hadn’t as their combined smells wedged deep in his psyche, he closed the remaining distance and crouched beside them. Mac shook his Danny’s shoulder hard and got a sleepy moan and, “Tired, Danny. Lemme alone.”

Hurt struck gut-deep and Mac bit his lip to keep from shouting and hurling epitaphs. He shook Danny again, harder, and this time the slave blinked up at him, fuzzy and confused. Then joy flashed over his face and he reached for Mac only to realize his current situation. Confusion was followed fast by shock and regret as Danny shoved the other slave off him with a begging, “Master, Master, I’m sorry!”

Mac stood and took a good look at him, now that he wasn’t partially blocked by the long, slender Hispanic slave. The only marks he saw were a minor bump on the head and a wrapped ankle. Neither had been beaten. They certainly hadn’t been starved. Had there been some kind of emotional torment that wasn’t evident? Possibly, but then, it certainly seemed from Danny’s sorrowful expression that he knew he’s done something very wrong.

“Get up,” Mac ordered shortly.

By then, Martin had reached the other Danny’s side and was struggling to get him to his feet as well. It looked like Malone had left altogether to get a handle on his temper.

A luxury that Mac didn’t have. Gazing at Danny, he asked quietly, “Were you forced? Did he rape you? Did Polsin threaten you in some way?”

Huddled in on himself, Danny shook his head and whispered, “I’m sorry, Master, I’m so sorry.”

Mac had two options. He could kill Danny for the betrayal, or he could retreat and regroup. He looked over at Martin and asked, “Would you please see that Danny is looked at by medical personnel and then delivered to Stella?”

Martin nodded, eyes filled with sympathy. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Mac replied.

Mac ignored Danny calling his name, the sound of anguish ringing in his tone. He left the warehouse as fast as possible, shoving all his emotions down deep where they couldn’t hurt him again.

* * * *

Martin looked at his two miserable, naked charges and sighed. The only one who’d stayed behind after Mac’s departure was Viv. He asked her, “Can you find something for them to wear?”

She nodded, leaving with a disappointed expression in place.

Facing his Danny, Martin lightly rubbed the slave’s shoulder and asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Arms folded tight around his waist, dark eyes staring at the floor, Danny answered, “I was taken and kept here the whole time. I don’t know how long it’s been, really. Only a couple of days since Danny got here? But more before then. They brought food once a day and um, we used that bucket to relieve ourselves.”

“They didn’t hurt you?” Martin asked gently.

Danny shook his head. “Martin…”

Rubbing his shoulder again, Martin prompted, “It’s okay, Danny. What do you need?”

Haunted eyes met his as the slave pleaded, “I don’t know why I did it! I don’t, but, please tell Danny’s Master that he didn’t want to? Not at first. I kinda, you know, overwhelmed him. I didn’t, I didn’t force him, but I didn’t really take no for an answer, either. I couldn’t. I just, I needed, so bad. I’m so sorry, so very sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Oh, Danny, of course I forgive you,” Martin promised, gathering him in close. He kissed the short, dark hair and continued firmly, “There’s nothing to forgive. You were under duress. Both of you.”

The other Danny didn’t so much as look up from where he still sat on the floor.

“I don’t know what happened here, but I know neither of you were responsible,” Martin finished.

Viv returned and tossed pants at both slaves. “I’ll wait in the car, Martin.”

Martin helped the injured slave to his feet and then into the sweats that Viv had brought. Danny took the other side and they helped him out to the car. Viv sat in the driver’s side, so Martin took the front passenger’s while the slaves got in the back.

The drive to the hospital was silent. Martin couldn’t help worrying about what Jack was doing while they took the slaves to get looked at. The other man had expended such energy in getting Danny back, so much emotion, he couldn’t help thinking that finding their slave that way had been more of a blow than if they’d just found his body. It didn’t matter to Martin who Danny had sex with, especially since the situation had been so frightening and dire for them, but it did matter to Jack. And it apparently mattered to Mac, too.

It took a long time to get a doctor to look the slaves over. One that wouldn’t do more than just glance at them and send them home, anyhow. Martin wanted a thorough workup, inside and out. He knew Danny and he knew the man would never have betrayed Jack without some kind of interference. Drugs were an obvious choice, but they could have somehow brainwashed the slaves. It was far-fetched, but possible. Motive was a lot harder to assign, but then, Polsin was crazy, so maybe not.

The young resident they wound up with was quiet, but efficient and kind. He treated the slaves as kindly as if they’d been rape victims, and maybe they were, after a fashion. Martin used the time to call Detective Bonasera and explain what had happened. She said something biting in another language, but he didn’t know at whom the swearing was aimed.

“Sorry,” she finally said in English. “Mac’s an idiot.”

Martin half-grinned. That answered that.

“I can meet you at the hospital? Or, can you bring him to my apartment? Danny knows how to get there.”

Martin answered, “I’ll bring him by for you.”

“Can you get blood tests? Look for…”

“Drugs, yeah. Already on it.”

“I thought you looked pretty efficient,” she teased warmly.

Martin smiled fully and rubbed a hand over his head as he replied, “Well, I try. I think we’ll be done here in about a half hour.”

“Great. Okay. I’ll send Aiden home to meet you at the apartment. And thank you, Agent Fitzgerald. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

Touched that she’d looked up his name since they hadn’t been officially introduced, Martin told her sincerely, “It’s my pleasure, but I’m not an agent.”

“You should be,” she said before disconnecting.

It was closer to forty-five minutes before the doctor came out and he looked tight-lipped in a way he hadn’t at the start.

Holding out a hand, the man said, “Dr. Michael Ganz.”

“Martin Fitzgerald. How are they?” Martin asked, anxious.

“Drugged. I took blood to confirm it, but their pupils are dilated and their pulses are rapid, almost thready. Not to mention they have a sexual response to very, very little stimuli,” Ganz stated flatly. “I would guess a mix of Viagra and Rohypnol, given their easily suggestible states, maybe with some designer drugs thrown in. I’ll get the drug panel back by tomorrow and can tell you for sure, then.”

Martin breathed a deep sigh of relief. “So they weren’t responsible for their actions then.”

“Not at all,” Ganz agreed. “It’ll probably be a good forty-eight hours before they’re in the clear and I would keep a sharper eye on Danny Malone, since he got the lion’s share of the dosage. I would guess he’d been given it in his food over the course of a few days to build it up. I’ve given them sedatives to help counteract the more virulent side-effects and you’ll want to keep them both calm and secure for the next few days. Also, Danny Taylor’s sprain was actually a fracture, so he’s being fitted for a cast now. He said a door had been slammed on it.”

Wincing at the report, Martin emphatically said, “Thank you, doctor. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

“It’s my pleasure. Whoever did this to them should be shot,” the man replied angrily.

Martin quirked a humorless smile at him. “I don’t know about shot, but justice will be served.”

The doctor nodded and pulled out a business card, holding it out as he said, “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Oh, and here’s a prescription for the sedatives and painkillers.”

“Again, thank you,” Martin told him, taking both prescriptions and business card.

“They’re getting cleaned up now, but I’ve got a nurse watching them to make sure it doesn’t turn into anything more by accident,” Ganz said. “Once they’re clean, she’ll start the cast for Danny Taylor and you can bring them home after that.”

Martin nodded and shook the doctor’s hand, getting a little flustered when the man’s hand lingered. He blushed and stammered, “Th-thank you, Dr. Ganz. Um, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some calls.”

Ganz smiled. “Of course. Call me if you need anything.”

The attention was flattering and Martin murmured an assent, even though he knew he never would. Looking at his phone, he wondered who he should call first. He settled on Viv, since she would need to come back and get them.

“Yeah, Martin?”

“We’ll be ready in about another hour or so,” Martin told her. “And Viv, they were both heavily drugged.”

There was a long pause that he didn’t even try to make her feel better about. He couldn’t help it, but he wished that there’d been at least a little shred of compassion and doubt in the rest of his teammates. Viv might not have stormed off like Jack and Mac, but she hadn’t helped, either. She’d drawn instant and wrong conclusions, just like everyone else.

She finally said, “Understood, Martin. I’ll be outside at the curb when you’re ready,” and hung up.

He sighed, but silently chided himself for expecting more. Detective Bonasera was next and she was ecstatic about the doctor’s prognosis. She promised to corner Mac and browbeat him into picking up Danny that night so the slave wouldn’t feel any more rejected than he already did. Martin felt better after hanging up from that call, but it lasted only as long as it took him to dial Jack.

“What?” Jack answered querulously.

Martin sighed. “Hello to you, too, Jack.”

“Martin, I’m not in the mood.”

Suddenly pissed, Martin snapped, “Fine. I just called to let you know that Danny had been systematically drugged over the course of his captivity. The doctor has sedated him to minimize the effect on his heart and system. Can I bring him home, or do I need to move into a hotel, so he has somewhere to go after this ordeal where no one will make him feel like shit?”

Jack hung up on him.

Speechless with anger, Martin threw his phone against the wall where it shattered.

“Mr. Fitzgerald?”

Martin took a breath, forcing himself to calm down, and then turned towards the new, hesitant voice. A nurse looked at him with a hesitant expression and he answered, “Sorry. Just, um, some bad news. Yes? Can I help you?”

“Your slaves are all set,” she told him.

He summoned a smile. “Thank you.”

She left with a headshake, clearly thinking he’d lost his marbles.

Snorting, Martin walked to the exam room and found the slaves at opposite walls, as if making sure there were no more touching, however accidental. They were clean and dressed in hospital scrubs, but barefoot, save for the cast on Mac’s slave’s foot. His heart went out to both of them and his smile was far more genuine as he asked, “Who’s ready to get out of here?”

His Danny half-smiled and raised a hand.

Martin chuckled and looked over at where the other Danny stood hunched over crutches. “Do you need help?”

The blond man shook his head and said, “I got it, thanks though.”

“The doctor told you that you’d been drugged?” Martin said, wanting to make sure.

Both slaves nodded, but they didn’t look relieved by the diagnostic.

Martin bit back a sigh and ordered, “All right, let’s go.”

It took a good ten minutes to get downstairs, what with the crutches, but Martin didn’t rush. He called Viv to make sure she was outside. He got the injured slave settled and then got in the front again, asking, “Danny, where does Stella live?”

The slave mumbled an address just loud enough to hear. Concerned, Martin looked back and found him half-asleep, the drugs having apparently gone to town on him.

Viv drove them silently, which depressed Martin. He couldn’t even imagine how it made Danny feel. He looked back at the slave when she pulled in at the address and said, “I’ll get him upstairs, if you’re okay here?”

He didn’t miss the way Viv’s jaw tightened at the question, the black woman understanding that Martin was worried for Danny, but didn’t care at that point, either.

Danny half-smiled and assured him, “I’m fine, Martin, thanks.”

Martin gave Viv a warning look before climbing out of the sedan and walking around the other side to help out the other slave. It took some effort, since the man was mostly somnolent and the crutches didn’t help, but he managed to get as far as the elevator without mishap. It was getting out of the elevator that was a problem, finally having to hit the fire button to keep the doors open.

Thankfully, a woman hurried down the hall at them and helped get Danny into an apartment. Martin had to think for a moment, but by the time the slave was prone and sound asleep on the sofa, he could guess, “Aiden, right?”

The dark-haired woman nodded with a grin. “Well. That was my workout for the day. How ‘bout you?”

Martin grinned back and agreed, “And then some. I have to go, but tell Danny that if he needs anything, he only has to call me.”

She lightly brushed a hand over his shoulder, saying simply, “Thanks. Danny’s going to need all the support he can get.”

He’s not the only one, Martin thought as he waved a goodbye and headed back outside.

It was a definite surprise to find Viv sitting backwards talking comfortably to Danny when he got back to the car. The slave was more animated than he’d been since they’d found him, smiling readily and saying, “I wish I’d been able to see it. I love the Yankees.”

And, sitting forward again, Viv answered, “I made sure and taped it for you.”

“Thanks, Viv!” Danny exclaimed. He smiled at Martin, but looked anxious as he asked, “Danny okay?”

“Sound asleep on the sofa,” Martin reported. “He’s fine.”

Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

“Where to, Martin?”

That, he thought, is an excellent question.

“I guess, do you know an inexpensive but good hotel?” Martin asked.

Viv sighed. “You should just go home.”

Testy, Martin informed her, “I would, but Jack hung up on me when I suggested it. No, I know. Bring me to the Guild.”

Shock lit over Viv’s face and she exclaimed, “The Guild?”

Martin nodded firmly, remembering what Mac had told him. “I think it’s about time I met the people who have control of my life and, apparently, they can’t refuse me a place to live.”

Viv looked a little spooked, but she started the car.

* * * *

Mac stood outside the door to Stella’s apartment. He’d been standing there for almost forty minutes, trying to get up the nerve to actually knock and see if he’d be allowed in. A few people had given him odd looks when they’d walked by, but no one had actually asked his business. When his mind wasn’t on overload, he intended to harangue Stella about the terrible security in her building. As it was, all he could do was stand against the wall opposite her door and work up to moving on with his life.

When Stella had swooped down on him in his office and practically beat him with the information that Danny had been drugged, Mac had almost collapsed into his chair. He’d been so conflicted on finding Danny…violently upset about finding him with the other slave, insanely relieved that he was alive and relatively unharmed…it hadn’t occurred to him that drugs had been involved. For that, he still damned himself as a brainless fool. Knowing how much Danny loved him, he still honestly thought the slave capable of betraying him with another and that spoke of some serious emotional issues to be dealt with.

Forty-five minutes after he’d first stood in front of Stella’s door, it opened and Stella herself gave him such a pointed look that he quickly entered the apartment.

“Aiden and I are going out for dinner. If Danny’s still here when we get back, he better not have any new bruises or injuries,” Stella warned, flinty.

Mac winced, but nodded. “He won’t.”

Danny sat on the sofa, looking marginally better than he had at the warehouse. He wore sweats and a t-shirt, his foot in a cast, and the dark circles under his eyes not quite as bad as earlier that afternoon. That told Mac he must’ve gotten some sleep.

Walking further inside as the women left the apartment, Mac moved to lean against the wall opposite the slave. Danny wouldn’t meet his gaze, eyes firmly on the floor and Mac didn’t know how to begin without seeing just how badly the other man was hurting. Badly, he knew. He’d truly fucked up in this case and it was up to him to fix it. They’d gone through so much in the relatively short time they’d had together that Mac couldn’t help wonder if one of the Gods were against them.

He shook off that thought and stated quietly, but firmly, “I’m sorry, Danny. I know that in no way makes things better for you, what I did is unforgivable, but I am truly sorry. Leaving you like that…believing the worst…I wish I could say it won’t happen again, but I’m, well, not very good at this relationship thing. Claire did most of the work and, and I guess I got used to believing the worst of people when she died. I know you’re not like that, I know it, I just…I couldn’t stop myself from trying to hurt you as bad as I was hurting.”

Danny let out a hard, explosive sigh, but didn’t raise his eyes. In a soft, halting voice, he said, “I never told you ‘bout most of what Sonny did to me. Didn’t really think I needed to and didn’t want to. Made it kinda like reliving things, you know? But…I think you gotta know this. If you don’t know nothin’ else about me, you have to know this. Sonny wasn’t shy about passin’ me out like a door prize. He’d go to some party, see someone he wanted to impress, and it was my job to do it. I’d suck or fuck whoever he wanted me to do, and it wasn’t always just one person at a time. Sometimes, I’d work the whole night and do most of the people at the party. I lost a lot of time over the years, blockin’ out a lot of parties, but I always remember cleaning myself up and the pain after.”

Mac wanted to tell Danny to stop; he didn’t want to hear any of it because he could see it all too clearly in his head. He wanted desperately not to hear it, but bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood because the slave obviously needed to share this.

Danny’s hand dashed across his eyes and he cleared his throat before continuing, “I ain’t once had to clean myself off like that, or hurt like that, since Stella gave me to you. Not until today. I never had to worry once that you’d put me through anything like that because I know you love me. I, I also know how much you’re still hurtin’ about your wife. You don’t talk about her, but, I see you sometimes, just staring at her picture at home or your office. I know today, I know you reacted like that because you thought you’d lost me, that I’d taken myself away from you ‘cause of what I did with the other slave.

“It hurt like all kinds of broken glass in my gut when you walked away, ain’t felt nothing like that since, well, a long time. But I know why you did it, and I think if you’re here, apologizin,’ then you don’t hate me for what happened. You might still love me, even. And that’s good enough for me. I can prove to you that I’m still your slave and I can be a good one for you, like before. If, if that’s okay. If you still want me.”

Mac groaned at the shaky words and stumbled across the room to land on the floor, knees aching from impacting the wood. He buried his face against Danny’s thigh and dug his fingers into the slave’s hips, shaking and clinging in a way he never had to anyone else, not even Claire.

“Master? Master, what’s wrong?” Danny whispered, rubbing over Mac’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head. “Are you hurt? Should I call someone?”

Lifting his head, Mac looked into Danny’s eyes and whispered back, “Please don’t ever leave me, Danny. I couldn’t take it.”

A hesitant smile quirked the corners of Danny’s mouth and he pressed his lips to Mac’s forehead in a kind of benediction as he replied, “Never.”

* * * *

Danny couldn’t stop gaping at the opulence the Concubine Guild sported as though it were nothing; all the people they passed wore the most fashionable and expensive clothing. The decorations were obscenely rich and the furnishings equally so. He’d been all for staying with Viv, but Martin had been firm. Unusually so, which made Danny wonder what had gone on while he’d been held captive for the last eight days. He totally understood Jack being pissed enough not to want to look at him. It hurt like hell, but Danny understood it completely. He didn’t understand Martin taking them anywhere but home, despite Jack’s attitude.

“Martin Fitzgerald?”

Danny looked up at the smooth call of Martin’s name and saw a statuesque woman with ebony hair and skin standing in the office door. He immediately looked down when her dark eyes switched to him, gazing at the very uninteresting pattern the marble tiles made as Martin crossed to the woman. He’d been kneeling there for twenty minutes, as was proper for a slave, but the young man at the desk had kindly given him a pillow so it hadn’t really been uncomfortable.

“Danny.”

Danny hopped to his feet at Martin’s soft command, striding to him swiftly, but keeping his eyes on the floor. “Yes, Master?”

“Gerald will take you to the rooms that you will share with your Master,” the woman informed him. “You can tailor it to his needs as you see fit. Gerald will supply you with everything necessary.”

At that, Danny risked a quick glance at Martin.

The Concubine gave him an encouraging nod and said, “I’ll be along as soon as Mistress Dauby and I have finished talking.”

Of course he had no choice but to follow the young man who’d sat behind the desk, even though he wanted to stay with Martin. They silently walked down the main corridor towards the back of the massive building that took up a full city block. He’d heard that there was a complete garden in the center, as well as an Olympic sized pool somewhere, but no one knew for sure who wasn’t a Concubine, as the uninitiated weren’t allowed beyond the front waiting area.

“Did you take a vow of silence?”

Danny looked up, startled, and discovered a friendly smile on Gerald’s face. The young man was tall and blond, lovely in a Nordic way with pale hair and eyes set in regular features. Danny shook his head and said slowly, “I’ve found it’s better for others to tell me the rules than to assume.”

“Good strategy,” Gerald observed. “But the slaves here are pretty much free to do as they like, so long as none of the Guild Rules are broken.”

“And those would be?” Danny questioned.

Gerald waved a big hand in the air and related, “The usual big ones. Don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t abuse yourself or others, don’t form attachments you won’t be able to keep. You can talk to whomever you want, and you sure don’t need to keep your eyes on the floor. That stuff’s for outside. And here we are! Not the best, but then, they’re temporary quarters. If your Master decides to stick around, you’ll get moved to better ones. See anything you’ll need? I can guess his size, but if you know his measurements, that’d be way more helpful.”

Danny turned in a circle, mouth open in awe at the casual wealth all around.

“Let me guess. You’re not exactly coming off a rich client,” Gerald observed, amused.

Jaw audibly clicking shut, Danny flushed in embarrassment and said, “Not coming off a client at all. My…it’s complicated.”

Gerald nodded, accepting the evasion. “Measurements? Favorite foods and colors? Is he allergic to anything?”

Danny snapped into business mode and had a detailed conversation with the bigger man about everything Martin. And then was surprised when Gerald turned the same questions on him. It made sense, he supposed. They think we’ll be staying. They don’t know that as soon as Jack and Martin make up, we’ll be leaving.

Assuming they made up. Assuming Jack wanted him back at all, even knowing about the drugs. Abruptly exhausted from the sedatives and ordeal he’d gone through, he sat down hard on the bed and asked, “Do you mind if I lie down for a while? I’m, ah, it’s been a long week.”

“Of course,” Gerald agreed. “I’ll get started on your necessaries. The bathroom’s through that door and breakfast is around nine in the dining hall. I’ll swing by around eight fort-five to guide the two of you there.”

“Thanks,” Danny murmured.

Stripping once the other man had left, Danny forced himself to find a hamper to put his hospital scrubs in. Just because they’d probably get thrown out was no reason to just toss them anywhere. He climbed into the bed and hugged one of the incredibly soft pillows to his chest, drifting into a light sleep almost immediately.

It was some time later that the bed dipped and Martin spooned up behind him, kissing his cheek and whispering, “How do you feel? Is your heart all right?”

Danny yawned and snuggled back against him as he answered, “Fine. Nice and steady. You okay?”

“I’m fine. We’re both fine, Danny. Don’t worry about anything. It’s all going to work out,” Martin promised, kissing under his ear again. “Go back to sleep.”

Surrounded by at least one of his Masters, Danny fell into a truer sleep that held nothing of nightmares.

* * * *

The shower felt hot and good and Martin groaned in pleasure as Danny’s hands massaged his back. He’d woken with Danny wrapped around him like a second skin. Trying to get free had woken the other man, so they’d decided it was time to get ready for the day. Or, Martin had decided anyhow. He had no idea where all this was coming from, but maybe being on his own for the first time in his life while simultaneously having to look out for Danny had brought out his own decision making abilities.

Whatever the case, Martin didn’t feel nearly as scared as he probably should. Mistress Dauby had given him a lot of information the previous night. While much of it was still sinking in, the major point had been driven politely, even gently, but very firmly home.

Martin was not a Concubine.

Shock had been the least of it. Martin had thought his father could no longer hurt him, not in a major facet of his life at least, but discovering that this fundamental part of himself id not exist had literally pulled the rug out from under him.

Mistress Dauby had gone over the process of becoming a Concubine and simply saying it was so, or providing an apparently forged document, did not in fact make it so. There was rigorous training involved that involved years of learning various skill sets of which sex was one of the minor, though still important, points. She’d also stated firmly that Martin had all the qualities the Guild looked for when it came to choosing Initiates later in life; comportment, intelligence, steadiness, beauty, and a grace under pressure that could not entirely be learned. She’d offered him a position in the current session on the spot, despite it being mid-term.

Martin had asked for time to think it over and she had gracefully agreed.

So now he stood under a borrowed shower in a borrowed suite with a slave he wasn’t really sure belonged to him any more. If his original contract with Jack was false, didn’t that make his ownership of Danny false? And if his original contract with Jack was false, could his father compel Martin back to his household?

“Master? What’s wrong?” Danny murmured, kissing the back of his neck. “Can I help?”

Sighing, Martin turned and offered a wan smile. “I wish you could, Danny, but I have some decisions to make. Come on. Let’s get dressed, it’s probably close to being time for Gerald to stop by and get us.”

They dressed in the clothes that Gerald had left at their door for Martin to find the night before, after his talk with Mistress Dauby. The bundle held a simple, but comfortable pants and loose top set for Danny, clearly denoting his slave rank, and slacks with a fairly casual dress-shirt for Martin. There were shoes and socks for Martin as well as sandals for Danny. He’d just finished lacing up his shoes when a knock sounded against their door.

Gerald stood on the other side, as expected, and smiled a greeting. “I hope you’re both hungry!”

Martin half-smiled in return and said, “I’m sure Danny can eat enough for the both of us.”

“Master, you need to eat,” Danny scolded, taking his hand. “If I have to take those pills, then you should at least have some eggs and toast to keep up your strength. I’m sure you didn’t eat last night.”

Martin explained ruefully to Gerald, “I tend to forget to eat in stressful situations. Danny is a walking alarm clock on that front.”

“And proud of it,” Danny said, grinning.

They headed down the corridor to a massive dining hall that was more a refined cafeteria than a true dining room. There were multiple, smallish tables at which Concubines and Initiates sat, as well as buffet tables along one of the walls.

Gerald told them, “Mistress Dauby would be honored if you would sit with her this morning.”

Martin nodded. “Of course. We’ll be right over as soon as Danny loads up my plate, as I know he wants to do.”

Chuckling, Gerald left them at the buffet table to go sit with a group that did not, Martin was surprised, include Mistress Dauby. She sat with a group of men and women towards the back of the room. Martin walked with Danny, but didn’t pay attention as the other man filled their plates with food, taking one of them when it was pushed at him. It didn’t take long to finish at the buffet and walk over to the table Mistress Dauby occupied.

She smiled and indicated the empty seats next to her. “Good morning, Martin. And Danny, how are you this morning?”

“I am well, thank you, Mistress Dauby,” Danny murmured, sitting beside Martin.

Her smile shifted a bit, looking more genuine somehow as she said to Martin, “He’s just lovely. Very well trained.”

Martin nodded and explained, “That’s on Jack. I’ve only recently come into Danny’s life.”

“And speaking of your erstwhile lover,” she began, a sparkle in her dark eyes. “He called twice last night and three times already this morning. Gerald actually took the last call instead of making the poor answering service do so again. He said that Agent Malone is quite anxious to speak with both of you.”

Martin snorted, knowing how much Jack hated to be put off. “I’m sure that’s one way to put it.”

Chuckling, Mistress Dauby continued, “Indeed. Gerald informed Agent Malone that should you wish to contact him, you will do so and to not call again.”

Which would probably give them the morning before Jack showed up in person, well and truly pissed at having been stonewalled. Shaking his head, Martin told her, “Thank you for your help, really, but Jack’s not the kind of person to give up.”

“Oh, ma chere, it seems as though he did already,” she murmured, petting his hand. “Is that not why you are here?”

Martin looked away at her words, knowing they were true.

Danny lightly tugged his shirt and urged, “Master, you need to eat.”

Martin had absolutely no appetite, but he couldn’t resist the pleading in Danny’s eyes. Forcing a smile, he picked up the fork and did his best to eat, if slowly. It was going to be a long day no matter what happened and he would definitely need the energy.

* * * *

Jack knew that he was being deliberately kept waiting. What he didn’t know was who was making him wait; Martin, or the Guild.

Probably both, with my luck, Jack thought sourly.

Not that he didn’t deserve to get pushed around after his behavior to both Martin and Danny. He’d been a complete bastard to them both and had no one but himself to blame if they never came home.

“Agent Malone.”

Standing instantly, Jack found a tall, blond man standing in the lobby doorway. “That’s me.”

The young man smiled and told him, “Mistress Dauby will see you now. If you’ll follow me?”

Jack’s heart fell at the announcement. Mistress Dauby, not Martin. All he could think about on the endless walk through the Guild was how he’d broken the contract by treating Martin so badly. That Martin was going to stay at the Guild and keep Danny. That he would lose them both and it would be his own damn fault.

His guide brought him to a simple yet elegant office filled with subtle objects del arte and a sense of real power.

The woman behind the desk was stunning in her tailored clothes and dark skin, braids woven with what were probably actual strands of gold. She stood at his entrance, offering a cool smile and her hand. “Agent Malone. I am Mistress Dauby.”

Jack took the hand in a firm, respectful shake and replied, “It’s an honor, Mistress Dauby.”

“Please, sit,” she commanded, genteel, but firm.

Jack sat.

She looked him over for a moment before saying, “You have done your people a great disservice, Agent Malone.”

There was nothing he could say to that except, “I know.”

“What would you have me do, Agent Malone?” she questioned. “Return these good men to the dubious care of a man who would rape one and beat another for a disloyalty over which he had no control?”

Jack flinched at the blunt words. He took a breath and said, “I have no excuse, I know that. I can only promise to guard against that behavior in the future.”

“Not good enough.”

Gritting his teeth, Jack forced himself to stay patient in the face of her dismissive words. “Then what would you have me do?”

“When a Concubine and Client reach an impasse, we insist upon formal mediation before voiding the contract to have our Concubine return home.”

Meaning he would have to air all his dirty laundry before some Guild appointed mediator. Not, apparently, that the head of the Guild didn’t already know everything that he’d done. Martin must’ve spilled his guts to the woman. Jack mentally kicked his own ass and thought, That’s exactly why you’re here, you shithead. Because you can’t bend or show a bit of compassion. If you want them back, you do anything they tell you to do, up to and including begging. Asshole.

Jack took a break and agreed, “Fine. Whatever it takes to get them back, I’ll do. You want mediation or counseling or me to stand in the public square with a sign around my neck, I’ll do it.”

He nearly cursed his choice of words at her interested look, but held her gaze, determined to convince her that he really would do anything.

Her generous lips pursed for a moment before she said, “Very well. I’ll tell Martin what you’ve said here and he can decide how to proceed.”

“Can I…are they okay?” Jack questioned, needing at least that much.

Mistress Dauby’s eyebrows rose as she stood and replied, “Of course. They’re in no danger, here, Agent Malone.”

* * * *

Danny wiggled back against Mac and sighed in contentment. It was his first good night’s sleep in a long time, since he’d spent so much time and energy in studying for the exam. They hadn’t really done anything except kiss a lot and sleep together, but he was more than okay with that. Danny’s ankle ached and his head still hurt a little when he moved too fast, so he knew he wasn’t really up for more anyhow.

Mac’s lips pressed to the back of his shoulder and he murmured, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Danny echoed, smiling. “Sleep good?”

“Very. You?”

Danny nodded and shifted a little so he could see Mac without having to crane his neck. “Best I’ve had in a while, really. All that cramming.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that,” Mac said slowly.

Curious, Danny asked, “What about it?”

Laying a hand on Danny’s midriff, Mac told him, “I want you to stop. You’re pushing yourself too hard and I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long. No, you can still take the exam, I’m not saying you can’t, I just want you to take it easier. There’s no rush for any of this. I know you want to work with me, and I want it too, but not at the expense of your health. Tell me something. Would that bastard have gotten the drop on you if you’d been a hundred percent?”

Danny grimaced, but reluctantly admitted, “Probably not.”

“Exactly. And I always want you at the top of your game so here’s how it’s going to be from now own,” Mac began sternly. “You’re going to take an equivalency test to qualify for lab assistant. You’ll work in the lab with Aiden for three to six months while you take one college course, and then we’ll reevaluate. In bed every night by midnight if there’s a case, by eleven if there isn’t. You don’t get out of bed before seven, period, unless it’s to relieve yourself and then you hop right back into bed until seven. I don’t care if bed happens to be here or the sofa in my office, but you will get a minimum of seven hours of sleep a night, barring unforeseen circumstances. Understood?”

Instead of being pissed at the limitations, Danny felt cared for and cherished. Sighing deeply, Danny kissed Mac’s forehead and agreed happily, “Yes, Master.”

Making a suspiciously purring sound, Mac shifted to lean over him on all fours and observed, “You and I have some reacquainting to get done.”

Danny grinned up at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mac confirmed, smirking.

He bent down to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly to send a bolt of pleasure through Danny. Arching up into the sensation, Danny groaned when the phone rang and Mac pulled away to answer it.

“This better be good,” Mac growled into the phone.

Danny sighed when the other man moved off the bed, tension instantly etched into his entire frame.

“How the fuck did that happen? No. No, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. You put a unit on my door right now, Flack. Good.”

Frowning, Danny asked, “What’s going on?”

“Polsin escaped during the transfer. We’ve got two dead guards,” Mac reported, scowling. “I need to go in, but you are not to leave here, understood? Lock the door and don’t let in anyone you don’t know personally. Don’t order out for food, don’t even pick up the mail. A unit’s going to be here in five minutes and they’ll be posted right at the door outside.”

Hesitant, Danny asked, “What about um, the other Danny?”

Mac grimaced, but assured him, “Flack’s already called the FBI to let them know. Looks like Martin took Danny to the Guild, so they should be plenty safe.”

Danny lifted his face for the kiss Mac bent to give, wishing things would settle down for more than a single night. He watched Mac get ready for work, but stayed in bed. There was no point in getting up, since he had nothing to do anyhow. He’d catch up on more sleep and then hobble around to get some breakfast and watch some daytime television.

Mac brushed a hand over his head before offering a brief smile and leaving the apartment.

Sighing, Danny leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling a few minutes before deliberately closing his eyes. He would have to get into practice of falling asleep when he didn’t want to, so he might as well start.

* * * *

Looking down at the bodies of the dead guards, Mac’s jaw tightened and he asked Stella, “What do we have?”

“Just what it looks like,” she answered. “Polsin stole one of their guns and shot them both to death before running for it.”

“Why did they stop and let him out in the first place?” Mac demanded, looking around the blocked off street.

Stella sighed and said, “Hawkes said that money was deposited in both their accounts. It’s my guess he didn’t want to risk them breaking under pressure and giving anything away.”

“Which the guilty tend to do when they know it’s all coming down on them.”

Mac turned in surprise at Malone’s declaration. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be right now,” Malone answered shortly. “I want this bastard in chains.”

Understanding the sentiment, Mac said, “We don’t have much yet.”

“We should put his picture out,” Stella suggested.

Mac nodded. “Now that no one’s in danger.”

“I’ll do it,” Malone offered. “This kind of killing is Federal anyhow.”

Eyebrows lifting, Mac questioned, “Pulling rank?”

“Not yet,” Malone answered, pulling out his cell as he walked away.

Stella snorted. “I guess his reunion didn’t go as planned.”

Mac pointed to the bodies and ordered, “Let’s get going on this.”

She nodded and they worked quickly but thoroughly, bagging and taking pictures. The bodies got taken away and they moved on to the transport truck. Opened by key, no surprise there. The cuffs and chains were inside, which also wasn’t a surprise. Mac scowled at the lack of evidence. At first glance, there was nothing they could use to find Polsin. They would have to rely on the cops to chase him down until they found more evidence.

Something has to lead to him, Mac thought angrily. He can’t just vanish.

He found Malone by the yellow tape, the dark man deep in thought, a pensive expression in place as he stared into space. Mac approached with, “APB out?”

Malone’s eyes snapped to him as he nodded and answered, “Everything’s out on him. Even made sure the Border Agents got notified, in case he tries to skip.”

Satisfied by that, Mac hesitated and then offered, “It was a pretty damning sight, yesterday. We both overreacted.”

Malone stiffened before stating, “That’s none of your business.”

Mac shrugged. “If you need someone to talk to about it, you know how to get hold of me.”

He’d only gotten a few feet before the agent called his name. Mac turned to look at him.

“I appreciate the offer,” Malone said gruffly. “It’s just, the situation’s complicated.”

Lips twisting, Mac countered, “It’s really very simple if you love them. You apologize and grovel until they say you don’t have to anymore. And then you do it some more.”

Malone snorted and asked, “Want some company back to the lab?”

“Sure. C’mon,” Mac replied sympathetically, motioning him forward.

Malone wasn’t the only one with groveling left to do, after all. Mac had his own share to continue when he got home.

*  *  *  *

* * * *

Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. A week after Jack had come to see Mistress Dauby and three days after the official close of the case, Martin sat across a table from Jack while neither of them spoke. They were waiting for an official mediator to arrive, not allowed to say a single thing until he or she showed up. The room was small, but as well-appointed as the rest of the Guild’s rooms. The chairs were ergonomically correct and the table made from an expensive, well-cared-for wood.

Jack’s expression was a familiar combination of frustration, anger, repentance, and love. That Martin knew all those expressions so easily probably didn’t bode well for their relationship. Several times, Jack’s mouth opened as though to say something, but then closed again.

Finally, the door opened and a man in his mid-thirties entered the conference room. Blond and blue-eyed, he was tall and thin, almost gaunt, with vibrant green eyes and a broad smile currently beamed upon them both. “I am so sorry for being late! Traffic was absolutely atrocious! I’m Harry and you must be Martin, and Jack, and where is Danny?”

“I was told he should stay in our rooms,” Martin offered.

Harry nodded and pulled out a seat at the head of the table. “Wonderful idea! Poor thing probably feels torn enough without being forced to watch the two of you argue over him like dogs over a bone.”

Jack rumbled angrily, “We wouldn’t do that to Danny! We love him.”

Still smiling, Harry pulled out a thick file from his simple leather satchel and flipped it open. Out came a pair of wire-rimmed glasses next to perch atop his thin nose. Peering down at the paper, Harry commented, “I see that you repudiated your slave, Master Malone. Not really a sign of love, so far as I know it.”

“I was…stressed at the time,” Jack replied stiffly.

“And yet, so was Martin. On top of which, I see that you also came close to rping Martin, stopped only by the arrival of a coworker.”

Jack flushed, but didn’t deny the charge.

Harry closed the file and took off his glasses, turning serious at the drop at some unseen signal. “I don’t say any of this to embarrass you, Master Malone. I am simply airing grievances on both sides so everyone understands the situation.”

Frowning, Jack repeated, “Both sides? I have no grievance.”

Glancing at Martin, Harry asked, “You haven’t told him?”

“Mistress Dauby hasn’t allowed us contact,” Martin explained.

Jack demanded, “Told me what?”

Harry stated bluntly, “Martin’s not a Concubine. Takes more than a piece of paper to make it so or there’d be more of us than you could shake a stick at. Mr. Fitzgerald forged Martin’s status for his own purposes, which is being investigated by the Guild as we speak. We don’t take kindly to that sort of infringement, let me tell you.”

Martin met Jack’s gaze without flinching, but was surprised only to see confusion and dismay there. His stomach dropped as he thought, Jack doesn’t want me now he knows. He wanted a Concubine and now he doesn’t want me.

“Master Malone? Do you feel you have a grievance now?”

Jack growled, “You’re damn right I do!”

“As I thought,” Harry said. “Do you wish to press charges against Martin as well as his father?”

Shock lit the older man’s face and Jack exclaimed, “Of course not! Martin didn’t know anything about this. You aren’t going to charge him with anything, are you? Because that’s just not right.”

“He was perpetuating a fraud that…”

“He knew nothing about! Don’t you damn well turn this around on an innocent man!” Jack snapped.

Harry’s lips quirked briefly before he looked at Martin to ask, “And do you want to press charges of assault? You’re within your rights to do so, even if you were a Concubine.”

Horrified at the thought of doing anything of the sort, Martin shook his head. “No, no definitely not.”

“So what we have here, gentlemen, is a fresh start. Martin’s not a Concubine. Jack’s not in danger of being convicted of rpe and so made a slave. Martin, do you love Jack?”

Shy but firm, Martin nodded. “I do.”

“And you, Master Malone? Do you love Martin Fitzgerald?”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed.

“Good. Then here’s my recommendation. Martin, you need counseling. Serious counseling. You had an abusive, controlling father and went directly from there to the house of a controlling, though not normally abusive, lover. Master Malone, you need some major anger management counseling. Honestly, I would ask the police to press charges against you regardless of Martin’s wishes just based on his and your coworker’s statements, but don’t feel as though it would help anyone at this point. Get yourself treatment or I will revisit that assessment.

“As to the current living situation. I can not recommend that you return to Master Malone’s house, Martin, no matter if you want to or not. You’re at an emotionally fragile point and need somewhere to live that holds no pressures or demands. I would prefer you stay here, but believe that would also pressure you unduly into becoming a Concubine simply out a sense of gratitude.

“Therefore, it is my judgment that the contract between Martin Fitzgerald and Master Jack Malone be officially annulled. The slave known as Danny Taylor will be returned post haste to Master Malone, being that he never truly belonged to Martin Fitzgerald in the first place. A trust account has been set up in Martin Fitzgerald’s name, to be administered by the Empire pending the outcome of Victor Fitzgerald’s legal status. This trust will be either ten percent of the Fitzgerald fortune and income combined, as befits the son of a prominent family, or no less than one hundred thousand dollars per month, depending on which is more.”

Dazed by the rapid-fire judgment from the man he’d met not ten minutes past, Martin exclaimed, “Stop! Just, stop!”

Harry turned a smile on him and said, “I know this is a lot to take in, Martin, but it is truly for your best interests. You will have the funds you need to live the life you should have had all along. And don’t think your father’s abuse won’t be addressed at his trial. When he invoked the Guild, all of that became relevant. Yours is an old and valued family, Martin, and the Empire takes an interest in all of their Citizens.”

“You’re not really a Guild mediator, are you?” Jack asked abruptly.

Shaking his head, Harry explained, “Martin’s not a Concubine, so that avenue wasn’t allowed. I work for the Empire as an independent, Imperial Mediator, Master Malone. My word, as many people like to say, really is Law. Get some help.”

The last three words were a warning that caused Jack to nod slowly and reply, “I will.”

“Good,” Harry replied, standing. He put away his glasses and the thick file before looking at Martin and finishing, “I’ll be in touch with you to set up testimony regarding your father. Be well, Martin.”

“Jesus, that was like going through a cyclone,” Jack muttered as soon as Harry was gone.

Martin laughed shortly and agreed, “You said it. Wow. My head is spinning.”

Jack folded his hands together on the table as he asked, “So…are you okay with everything he just told us? Because, if you need Danny, you can keep him until you’re settled somewhere. And it’s not that I don’t want him back, I really do, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, Jack,” Martin interrupted, smiling. “I understand the offer. And thank you. I think…I think Harry’s right though. He didn’t say it directly, but I do need to be on my own for a while. Sort out what I want.”

Jack questioned softly, “Who you want?”

Martin looked at him, meeting those dark eyes, and answering, just as soft, “Yeah. Jack, I…how can I be sure that I love you when I’ve never known it before? I want you and Danny, that’s undisputed, and I care about both of you so much, but…I just don’t know.”

Swallowing visibly, Jack glanced away and said, “I understand, Martin. I do. Do me a favor though?”

“Anything,” Martin agreed instantly.

Jack gave him a wry smile and told him, “Remember the good memories you had with us when you’ve found your destiny. I know it’s going to be a big one. A good one.”

Martin’s throat tightened at the declaration and he found that all he could do was nod.

*  *  *  *

In the end, they had to give Polsin up as being in the wind. He was put on the Most Wanted list as Number Fourteen and his picture plastered on the walls of every post office worldwide. It left Mac pissed off and looking over his shoulder, but he had to acknowledge that the bastard had well and truly escaped the net. He was smarter than the average psycho and that made him even more dangerous. All Mac could do was pray that he wouldn’t come back and make sure Danny knew how to defend himself. The rest was up to Fate.

Two weeks after Danny’s recovery, he and Mac were holed up together in a little cabin in the woods that Malone had recommended. They’d kept in touch and the agent had shared his not-so-good news about Martin, even though he’d gotten Danny back. Having known a few Concubines, Mac was surprised to discover the young man hadn’t been one and avidly followed his father’s trial in the papers.

Still, despite the lack of Martin, Malone and his slave seemed to be recovering quite nicely. The four of them had had dinner a couple of nights back in Mac’s apartment, which was where the cabin rental had come up. The two Dannys had been both embarrassed and relieved to see one another, but once over the initial discomfort, had gotten on like houses a-fire. Personally, Mac had been exceptionally relieved to see them settle into a brotherly relationship almost immediately and knew he wasn’t the only one. Malone had given him a wry look a couple of times throughout the night.

“Master? Time for bed.”

Coming out of his thoughts, Mac smiled at Danny standing in the doorway to the bedroom and motioned him over. Danny padded over to him and curled up on his lap, nuzzling at his throat. Humming in deep contentment, Mac allowed, “I think we can extend your curfew a little while we’re on vacation. We need to talk about some things, Danny.”

Danny yawned and nodded, relaxing against him.

Mac smiled fondly and kissed the top of his head. They had nothing to worry about for the next five days and he planned to wait on Danny hand and foot, reestablish the trust that they’d come so close to losing with his stupidity. He was determined to learn all about his slave’s life before coming into his possession while they were away where there was no pressure or judgment. It had struck at them because Mac had purposely worn blinders and he wouldn’t allow that to happen again. He knew that it would be painful to hear, but he also knew that Danny deserved the kind of closure talking about it could bring.

Wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist, Mac slouched down against the sofa cushions so they were stretched out together and then closed his eyes. Danny mumbled against him and threw a leg over Mac’s hip, snuggling closer.

Then again, sometimes talking was overrated.