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J ack couldn’t sleep.

He stared down at her bed. The way he did every night. Or every night that he hadn’t been in the bed with her.

Only now, she wasn’t in it.

Two days had passed since she’d been taken. And the only clue to her whereabouts was that one of the make-up artists had seen her talking to an older woman shortly before she’d disappeared.

That was fucking it.

He curled his hands into fists. Someone could be hurting her . . . right fucking now and he couldn’t do a thing to protect her.

She was his to protect.

Mine.

He’d known she was his for a long time. That’s why he watched her. Not because he was a psycho creep, although plenty of people would call him that.

But because he had to see her . . . to check on her . . . to know that she was breathing. He couldn’t rest without seeing that.

And so he’d watched her every night he couldn’t be beside her in that bed.

When they’d slept together, he’d kept his hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat. Knowing that she was his.

And you let her get taken.

He was never going to forgive himself. And he was never going to let her out of his sight. Maggie could complain all she liked about how he was suffocating her . . . about how she had rights . . . how she was independent.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

He didn’t give a shit about any of that. There wasn’t much Jack got possessive of. His childhood had taught him that possessions meant nothing. It was people who were important.

But he couldn’t care about just anyone. He didn’t have it in him. The only people he’d ever possessed were his mother, Ian, Jameson, and, to a lesser extent, Ian’s brothers.

And now her.

But Maggie topped them all. Because she needed him. She was delicate and precious. Infinitely vulnerable.

She needed him to stand between her and the world in a way the others didn’t.

So that’s what he’d do.

He’d been holding back. No more. The real Jack was coming out to play, and though he understood that might be scary for her.

But nothing was more terrifying than not knowing where she was or if she was safe.

Nothing.

Climbing onto her bed, he brought her pillow up to his nose. It still smelled like her.

Strawberries and vanilla.

He would find her. He had to.

He grabbed the hand reaching for him, flipping the person over onto the other side of the bed, then straddling their hips.

“What the fuck, Jack! Get off me, you asshole.”

Ian.

He’d known it was him as soon as he woke up. But still . . . the other man needed a lesson.

“Don’t touch me.”

Ian’s eyes widened. “Fuck, Jack. How bad are you?”

“She’s gone. How bad do you think I am?” he snarled back.

Ian let out a sigh. “Fuck. All right, get off me. I need you to come look at something. They’ve made a move.”

“Who? The people that took her? Did they ask for a ransom? What is it?”

Ian shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “It’s worse than that. Come see.”

Jack followed him down to the kitchen as Jameson stumbled in from the living room. He’d insisted on sleeping on the couch. He should have gone home. Gone to work. But he said he was here to help.

Jack glared at him.

Jameson ran his hand over his haggard face. “Jack, how many times do I need to say that I’m sorry I called you guys away from her?”

He knew it wasn’t right to blame Jameson. Jack was the one to blame. For leaving her.

Won’t happen again.

“I’m worried about her too,” Jameson said.

“I know,” Jack said. “I just want her back.”

“Let’s concentrate on the matter at hand. Look.” Ian turned the laptop around so they could see the screen. It was one of those shitty tabloid websites.

But this time, he couldn’t ignore what was on the screen.

Because those were fucking photos of him. With Ian.

And Maggie.

A photo of him out with her after their time at the bouncy castle. Another of them smiling at each other. Images of her with Ian.

All of them innocent until Ian scrolled down.

“Motherfucker,” he spat out.

There were images of them on the rooftop. How the fuck had they taken photos of them up there?

“Did they set up cameras?” he asked.

Their genitals and Maggie’s breasts were all blurred. But it was all too obvious what they were doing.

Together.

There was another image of them in the arcade. The two of them pressed around her while Jameson stood close by. Then one with Jameson helping her bowl.

Jameson sucked in a breath.

Was he worried about what people might think?

But when Jack glanced over at him, he just looked intent. Focused.

“How did they get these?” Jameson asked. “Was someone following us?”

“What does the article say?” Jack asked. He didn’t have the patience to read it.

“Basically, the reporter plays heavily on her being a champion athlete, how she was going to the Olympics when she broke her hip. How she’s ice skated again,” Ian said.

Jack hated that.

That she’d lost something she loved.

“Then it goes on to talk about Escana. How wrong the relationships are here. Basically, the article accuses us of corrupting and using a young girl who had her hopes and dreams shattered. And by us, I also mean the Escanaian Royal Family since they not only don’t condone harems but have them of their own. There’s speculation that she might have been bride kidnapped.”

“She’s fucking smiling in all those photos,” Jameson said. “Are they really going to say we’re forcing her?”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Jack asked.

Ian shook his head and turned the laptop around.

“Show me,” Jack urged. “I need to see.”

“We’ve been summoned to the palace for a debrief,” Ian said.

“Show. Me.”

Ian sighed, his reluctance more than obvious. But he turned the laptop back. And there was the last image.

She looked severely beaten. Broken. And so terrified.

Where was she? There was a white background. Was it a wall? A tent? Were there any clues about where she might be held?

“What the fuck?” Jameson said. “Are they trying to accuse you of harming her?”

“There’s no caption with the image,” Ian said. “But it’s implied that we hurt her. And there are interviews with several concerned parties claiming to have seen her upset and injured. Including a doctor at the hospital who treated her.”

“What? Who?” Jameson shot out. “Evans? I’ll fucking kill him!”

Jack got up. The rage was white-hot inside him. He needed to expel it, but he didn’t want to hurt Ian or Jameson.

So he turned his attention to the wall.

Smash!

Pain rocked through him.

Smash! Smash!

It wasn’t helping. The rage still controlled him.

“Jack! Fuck, Jack!” Ian roared.

Smash!

He could feel the blood dripping down his hands from his split knuckles. He might even have broken his hand.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Jack, stop.” Jameson’s voice was full of command.

But he wasn’t Jack’s Dom. He couldn’t control him. The only person with a hope of doing that wasn’t fucking here.

“You are making things worse,” Jameson told him urgently. “And you are failing her.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jameson,” Ian said, sounding horrified. “Why would you say that to him? You’re going to send him right off the deep end.”

Too late.

“He’s already reached that point, Ian,” Jameson shot back. “And can’t you see that busting your fist is doing nothing but making a hole in the wall, Jack? Now, when people see you, they’ll see your bruised and broken knuckles and wonder if you did it while hitting her.”

“I’d never hit Maggie.” Jack turned abruptly on Jameson, seething.

“No, but other people will think that.”

Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I’ll wrap it up, put it in a sling,” Jameson said. “Tell them you broke it, but you need to rein it in. For you and more importantly, for her.”

Fuck it. He was right.

“Let’s get Jack bandaged so we can get to the palace,” Ian said.

“I’ll do it.” Jameson grabbed the things he needed from his medical bag.

Jack sat down and let Jameson doctor him.

“Someone needs to stay with William,” Ian said as he looked up from whoever he was texting.

“I will,” Jameson volunteered. “I’m going to call my boss about Evans too.”

“What’s wrong with William?” Jack asked.

Jameson stiffened. “You know I can’t tell you.”

“Don’t pull that patient-doctor confidentiality with me.” Jack leaned forward. “What’s going on?”

“We need to know if we’re to take proper care of him, Jameson,” Ian added.

“Do not tell anyone else,” Jameson warned.

Jack nodded impatiently. The only reason he cared was because of his baby girl.

“He’s got early-onset dementia.”

Fuck. Just as they’d suspected.

“Right. So we need to protect him as much as we can from what’s going on,” Ian said grimly.

“Definitely. I’ll stay here and check in on him regularly. You two go to the palace.”

Jack couldn’t handle it anymore.

All of this was just talk.

Someone hurt his girl. Someone had to pay. And he needed to find them.

Find her.

“Enough!” He slammed his unbound hand down on the table. Jameson had wrapped up his other hand.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Fuck, Jack.” Ian glared at him.

This almost seemed like déjà vu. Except last time it had been Ian pulling everyone’s attention. In the meeting about the wedding.

This had turned into another wedding talk.

Talk of postponing it. Of what to do about the article.

All stuff he didn’t care about in the slightest.

“I don’t care about any of this shit. What are we doing to find Maggie?”

None of them would meet his eyes. Except Kassim.

“We’re doing everything we can, Jack.”

“Yeah? Is that why we’re all in here . . . in a meeting . . . instead of looking for her?”

“He’s got a point,” Wolfe said. This was the first time Jack had seen the other man since he’d heard that Vivi was pregnant. “We should be focusing on the girl. Not this bullshit. This is Purity Party Propaganda.”

“You think they have her?” Jack turned to him.

“Who else?” Wolfe shrugged. “Unless Pinky got to her. But we all know he’s funding the Purity Party so why dirty his hands when he can dirty theirs?”

Fuck.

“Then we find every member and we lean on them,” Jack said.

Caleb glared at Wolfe, then turned to him. “We can’t do that, Jack. They’re innocent until proven guilty.”

He didn’t give a fucking shit about that.

He wasn’t letting the fucking law bind his hands.

Jack stood. He was leaving.

“You’re a member of my guard,” Kassim said solemnly. “You cannot go around terrorizing my citizens.”

“Someone beat her!” Jack’s roar sounded through the room. “I’m going to find her. And if that’s a problem, then I quit!”

More silence.

Then Ian stood. “Jack’s right. Maggie comes first. I quit as well.”

“Wait,” Caleb said, standing. “No one is quitting. Sit down.”

“She comes first. Before anything else,” Ian told them all firmly.

“So this is more than a fling?” Aleki asked.

“Yes,” Ian replied. “Maggie is ours.”

“And does she want that?” Beck asked, staring at them both.

“She does,” Jack replied. He knew that she did. Even if she didn’t realize what they had was going to become a permanent thing.

“When we get her back, we’ll make it clear to her,” Ian said.

“You mean you’ll ask her consent?” Hux said.

“Like all of you did?” Jack said, staring around at them all. They’d all basically kidnapped their women and entered a Marjarsom period for twenty-one days.

Hmm, not a bad idea.

If she’s not completely terrified by the time we rescue her . . .

“We’ll talk to the police about interviewing members of the purity party. And we’ll go with them,” Caleb added. “Let me work on coordinating that. But I think it would be best if you both stay out of it.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue when Ian’s phone rang. Ian frowned. “It’s Jameson.”

Jack watched as Ian answered the phone, frowning deeply. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah. All right. We’ll be there soon.” He turned to Jack after ending the call. “It’s William. Apparently, Maggie’s mother called him and he answered.”

“Fuck. Why didn’t we take his phone away?”

Ian grunted in agreement. “Well, she must have told him everything that was going on and he . . . he didn’t take it well. He got into a rage and ended up badly hurting himself. Jameson has had him admitted.”

This was turning into a giant shit show.

Jack just had to hope they found someone who knew where their girl was.