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I t was time to move back into the land of the living.

Maggie had taken the time she needed. It had been five days since she was rescued. And while she wasn’t suddenly over what happened, she couldn’t hide her head in the sand anymore.

“What happened with the wedding? Did it go ahead? Did Uncle Willy take the photos?” she asked.

Everyone paused what they were doing. She’d convinced Ian that she was well enough to eat dinner downstairs with them. He was busy plating up their food while Jameson set the table. Jack was sitting next to her, doing something on his laptop.

Jameson hadn’t once gone to work since she’d returned. Well, not that she knew of. She had been quite out of it those first few days.

Ian cleared his throat and walked over with two plates of food. Jameson grabbed the other plates. They put them down on the table.

“No, they postponed the wedding,” Jack told her.

She winced but nodded. “Because of security concerns.”

“And everyone wanted to look for you,” Ian told her.

Great. Now, she felt guilty.

A finger under her chin, Jameson tilted her head up. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“And Uncle Willy? Where . . . where is he?” She tried to suck in a breath, but the air in here had grown thick with tension.

Oh God.

What were they going to tell her?

“This time I need to know,” she said firmly.

“This is my fault,” Jameson said, stepping away and looking distraught.

What was his fault?

“It’s not your fault,” Ian countered. “It’s on all of us.”

Panic filled her and she reached out for something to anchor her. It felt like her body was going to float away.

Jack lifted her onto his lap. “Just tell her. She’s freaking out.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Jameson told her with sorrow in his eyes. “I failed you.”

“Your uncle had an episode,” Jack finally told her. “He was distraught over you going missing and he grew really angry. He was throwing things and he broke a mirror and then picked up a shard of glass. He sliced his hand. He ran at Jameson and tripped. He fell and hit his head again.”

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Again? So he’s in the hospital?”

“We had to have him sedated and assessed,” Jameson said. “His dementia was in his records. Because you weren’t here, hospital admin contacted the next of kin to see about what they wanted to do.”

“Who?” She breathed out, scared. “Who did they contact?”

Jameson narrowed his gaze. “I believe it was his sister. Your mother?”

“Oh no. Fuck. No, no, no.” She tried to get off Jack’s lap, but he held her still.

“What is it?” Ian asked.

“I have to get my phone. Do you know where it is? Wait . . . I don’t have my phone!”

“We couldn’t find it,” Ian told her. “Whoever took you must have turned it off and dumped it as we couldn’t track it.”

She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Okay . . . I can remember Indie’s number. Can I use someone’s phone? I need to call her in London, but I’ll pay you back.”

“You’re not paying me back.” Jack slid his phone over to her. But again, he wouldn’t let her off his lap.

Her hands shook as she tapped in Indie’s number and called her.

Come on, Indie. Pick up.

Ian watched his girl.

She still looked far too pale and fragile. Breakable. He wasn’t convinced that she should be out of bed yet. Let alone going through all this stress. The last two nights, both he and Jack had slept with her and Jack was starting to look less like he was about to go on a murdering rampage.

Thank fuck.

Though he was doing better, he was still walking right on the edge. When Ian had talked to him about Maggie’s anxiety and hair-pulling, he’d nearly lost it again. Ian had barely managed to stop him from punching another wall. Instead, he’d taken him to the gym and let him work out his anger on a punching bag.

Having her back between them was a miracle. They still didn’t know who her rescuer was, but if Ian ever met her, he’d promise her anything in gratitude.

At least the police had identified the woman and man who kidnapped her. Mostly because Maggie knew the first name of the man. Maggie had been able to identify them through photos. They were brother and sister and known members of the Purity Party. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to locate them yet. So they were still out there. Still a threat to their girl.

Which was unacceptable.

“Indie? It’s me. Maggie. What is it? What’s wrong?” Maggie’s face grew even more pale.

And he went on high alert. What was going on?

Ian studied Jack, watching as his face tightened. But he held it together.

“Oh God . . . are you all right? The baby? I will. No, I’m coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can. No, no . . . something happened. I’ll tell you later, you just need to stay calm and stay there. Yep. Yep. Okay. Did they call him? I will. Love you.”

Maggie got off the phone and she was nearly hyperventilating.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ian snapped. He knew he shouldn’t have. That he had to be calm. Jameson had warned them that the last thing she needed was more stress.

“I . . . I . . .” She was trembling, literally shaking from whatever news she’d just had. “Oh God . . . I . . .”

Something came over Jack, he let out a breath and all the tension in his body eased away. Then he turned her in his lap, holding her against his chest. Standing, he rocked her back and forth, patting her ass.

“Come on, baby,” Jack murmured. “Nice, deep breaths for Daddy. That’s it. You’re safe. I have you.”

A small whimper escaped her as she tried to burrow her way into his chest. Jack was wearing a T-shirt, which she managed to shove it up so her face was against the skin of his chest. Her thumb slid into her mouth.

He was going to put her to sleep.

Ian raised an eyebrow at Jack’s smug expression.

“What?” Jack said quietly. “I’m a Maggie whisperer. She’s overwhelmed. She needs a time-out.”

“I don’t think she needs to be alone or to have time to think,” Jameson said.

“Not that sort of time-out. She needs a break from the world. From the noise, the lights, from thinking. Don’t you, baby girl?” Jack crooned.

Ian understood. “You want to take her somewhere quiet?” He didn’t want her out of his sight. Something had hugely upset her and he wanted to know what it was. But he’d do whatever was right for her.

“I think she’s all right with us at the moment,” Jack replied.

“I have an idea.” Jameson got up and returned quickly with a blanket which he draped around her shoulders and over her head.

Jack sat down with his precious bundle, took off his T-shirt completely, then started to eat. Ian stared at him for a moment.

“She’ll come back when she’s ready. She needs a moment.”

Ian let out a tense breath. He didn’t think he could eat.

“Eat,” Jameson said. “I think Jack wants us to act as normal as possible.”

Fuck. As if he even knew what normal was anymore. Worry for her was his one constant.

But they finished their dinner and Jack brought his laptop back over to work on it as Ian put her dinner in the oven to warm up.

About ten minutes later, she started stirring and the blanket was pulled off. Leaning back, she glanced up at Jack.

“Sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know better than that, baby girl.”

Nodding, she pressed her face into his neck and shoulder. He patted her back lightly for a moment.

Standing, he deposited her in Ian’s lap.

“Ian needs you,” he whispered, even though Ian could hear him clearly. “He’s freaking out.”

Ian shot Jack a look, but the other man whistled as he moved to the oven and grabbed her dinner.

“How are you doing, Little girl?” Ian asked gruffly.

“It . . . Indie . . . I . . .”

“Not yet,” Jack told her firmly. He put the plate of food down. “Dinner, then talk.”

“I can’t eat,” she protested.

“You need to eat,” Ian told her. He tried to soften his voice, but it still came out sounding like an order. “Can someone get me a pillow or a cushion?”

“I’ll get it.” Jameson jumped up and ran out of the room.

“He has to chill,” Jack said, returning to the table with a cup of coffee.

“Can I have a coffee?” Maggie asked.

“No,” Ian told her. “You need to eat and drink water. No coffee this late at night. It will keep you up.”

“Jack’s drinking coffee.”

“Jack isn’t my Little. He can do what he likes.”

“It’s good to be Big,” Jack sang.

Turning her head, she poked her tongue out at Jack.

He grinned. “Keep doing that and I’ll find something to occupy that tongue.”

Just as he said that, Jameson walked back in. “Um, I can leave.”

“Nah, we know you like to watch,” Jack said.

“Jack!” Maggie and Jameson said together, before sharing an embarrassed look.

It was cute.

But he had more important things to do.

“I need to tell you about Indie,” she said. “And I still don’t know anything about Uncle Willy.”

“That can wait,” Ian told her firmly as he took the pillow from Jameson and put it between the edge of the table and Maggie’s back. Then he helped her lean back. She gave him a questioning look. “You need to eat.”

She shook her head.

“Yes,” Ian said sternly. “You’re barely eating. You’re not drinking enough. You eat what I feed you, or I’m going to mix up a protein drink and put it in a baby bottle to feed to you.”

It was a threat.

And it backfired spectacularly. Because she blushed, interest filling her eyes before she dropped her gaze to her lap.

“Well, that didn’t go how you thought it would,” Jack murmured. “Luckily, I’m always prepared for any eventuality.” He popped up and rummaged around in a cupboard before pulling out a box.

He carried it over to the table, setting it down before he started pulling things out of it. “Dummy. Sippy cup. Bib. Where is it?”

Ian watched the growing number of things. Each of them had a zebra on it.

“Plate. Cutlery.” The plate had a zebra with a headband of flowers on its head on it. “Here it is. Baby’s bottle. What do you think, baby girl?”

Maggie shook her head and tried to bury her face in Ian’s chest.

“Uh-uh. We all saw how you looked at the sound of a baby’s bottle. Is this something you want? Be honest.” Ian gave her a firm look as he drew her face away from his chest.

“I . . . I . . . yes.” She glanced down at her fingers which were tangled together.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Ian tilted her head back.

“Especially when you’re making all of Ian’s dreams come true,” Jack told her.

Her eyes shot to him, the look of hope in hers nearly flooring him. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he told her, running a finger over her cheek. “I’ve always wanted a baby girl. But only if that’s what you want.”

“Sometimes. Not all the time,” she confessed. “But especially when I . . . when things . . .”

“When it’s all overwhelming?” Jameson asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll make her a bottle.” Jack grabbed the bottle and headed back into the kitchen.

“She can’t survive on just protein drinks,” Jameson warned. “They can supplement her meals, but not replace them. Not with how much weight she’s lost recently.”

Ian nodded and got her back into position so she was leaning against the pillow. He forked up some food. “You need to eat a few bites before you get your bottle.”

She looked conflicted as she chewed on her lip. But she took several bites of food before Jack returned with her bottle.

“I need to tell you what is going on before . . . before I can . . . relax.”

“Tell us, Little Misfit.”

Maggie couldn’t believe this was happening.

She’d just let Ian feed her. It wasn’t the first time, of course. But the position she was in made it feel more intimate. It made her feel younger.

And more vulnerable.

But it wasn’t a bad feeling. In fact, it would be so easy to sink into their care. To let them take over.

However, she couldn’t do that yet. Not until she got this all off her chest.

“I just called my best friend, Indie. She’s . . . she’s pregnant.”

“Right. She’s the one you’ve been gathering names for,” Ian said.

“Yes. But I . . . she said she’s been trying to call me. She . . . Indie’s in hospital. I need to get back to her. I’m the only person she has.”

“In the hospital?” Jameson asked. “Is there a problem with the baby?”

“They’re monitoring them both,” she said faintly.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Ian asked

A tear dripped down her cheek and Jack made a noise like he was in pain. Ian started down at her intently while Jameson rubbed her arm soothingly.

“She was . . . she was beaten.”

“What the fuck?” Jack whispered.

“Who the hell would beat up a pregnant woman?” Ian barked.

“How far along is she?” Jameson asked, the only one who seemed to be keeping his cool.

“Four months,” she said.

“All right. The baby should be well-protected. Did she say anything about her condition? The baby’s?” Jameson asked.

She shook her head. “She s-said they’re both o-okay. But she w-would say that to p-protect me. I need to g-go home. Not j-just for Indie. But Uncle Willy. But I don’t . . . I don’t . . .”

“You don’t what, Little girl?” Ian asked, cupping her face and wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

“I don’t want t-to leave you guys.”

“Then it’s simple,” Jack said. “We’re coming with you.”