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“ W hat is it? What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.

Ian fucking hated seeing his girl upset. It felt like it was burning a hole inside him, this need demanding that he fix everything so she only ever smiled.

He paced back and forth in the living room.

Jameson had picked Maggie up and carried her in here, not bothering to remove the plug.

Now she was sitting between Jack and Jameson on the sofa, watching Ian pace.

How the hell did he tell her this? He didn’t want to upset her more.

He tugged at his hair.

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to pull my hair out, then neither are you,” she joked.

He stopped and closed his eyes. Here she was, terrified out of her mind and she was still making jokes. He let out a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he walked over and sat on the coffee table.

“That was the police.”

She sucked in a breath. “They found them?”

“In a way, yeah. Little one, they found their bodies.”

“B-bodies?” She gaped at him. “What do you m-mean?”

“Two dead bodies were found in the desert last night. Very close to where you were kidnapped. Even though the bodies had obviously been there a while, the police are pretty certain that it’s them. Obviously, they will do dental checks as well to confirm. But they’re pretty sure it’s your kidnappers.”

She grew even paler and her hand drifted up to her hair. Reaching out, he grasped hold of her hand. He could feel her shaking.

His poor girl.

Picking her up, he lifted her onto his lap and held her tight.

He stared at Jameson and Jack. His worry was reflected in their faces.

Their poor girl had been through so much, yet it seemed the universe just kept throwing more at her. While he’d rather that those assholes had been found alive, at least this meant that there wouldn’t be a trial.

Thank God.

He knew they’d all breathe easier now that the threat to her was gone.

Maggie could scarcely believe what Ian had just told her.

Dead?

She leaned back to look up at Ian. “They’re really dead?”

He brushed a finger down her cheek. “Yes, Little girl.”

She swallowed heavily. “And I don’t have to . . . to identify anything?”

“No,” Ian said firmly. “And I wouldn’t allow it even if the cops wanted that. Understand me?”

She buried her face against his chest. But it wasn’t enough. Frustration bit at her and she growled. Ian quickly drew his top off, exposing his chest.

“Here you are.”

She pressed her face against his warm skin, breathing him in. It was exactly what she needed. To feel him. To know he was here.

That he’d take care of her.

“That’s it,” he said in a low voice. “They’re gone. They can’t hurt you again.”

“But who killed them?” she whispered. Were there other people out there that she had to worry about? “Do you think it was her ?”

The woman who’d rescued her? But why would she kill them?

“I’m not sure, Little girl. There’s going to be an autopsy. Maybe it will give us some answers, maybe not. But today is the day you stop worrying about this. Understand me?”

“I guess so.” She let out a deep breath. “They’re gone, but I’m here. With you guys.”

Which is more than she ever thought she’d ever have.

“I think we should have a talk about seeing a therapist,” Jameson suggested.

A therapist?

She didn’t know how she felt about that. She sat back and tried to look round at the others. Ian moved her so she was sitting on his lap, side-on.

“What do you think?” Jameson asked her. “It might help you process all of this. The kidnapping. What happened with William. Your parents. Your anxiety and hair-pulling.”

“Oh my God, they’re gonna think I’m a complete nut job!” she cried.

Really.

She should have anticipated what happened next. Because none of her men liked when she called herself names.

Over Ian’s lap she went.

“Wait!” Jameson said as Ian drew the skirt of her dress up over her ass.

Ian paused and she slumped in relief. Someone was going to be the voice of reason and tell Ian that she definitely didn’t need her bottom spanked.

“I’ll remove the plug for you,” Jameson said. “That way you don’t have to hold back or worry about not hitting it.”

“Good thinking,” Jack said.

“I have the occasional good thought,” Jameson replied.

They were doing it again! Bonding over punishing her. It was so not cool.

Except she loved how well they were all getting along. They all seemed happier. A weight had lifted off Ian. Jameson was far more relaxed.

And Jack was . . . well, Jack.

But she knew he’d wanted this as much as the other two. For them all to be a family again.

As soon as the plug was removed, Ian smacked her ass.

“No, Daddy! Bad Daddy!”

“Not bad Daddy. Naughty Maggie.”

“Not naughty Maggie!” she countered. “Bad Daddy for spanking Maggie. Ow!”

He kept spanking her, his hand landing over and over until she was crying. “Maggie is not allowed to speak about herself negatively. Understand me?”

She lay over his lap, sobbing and repentant. Ian gradually slowed the spanking, and then he rubbed her bottom for a moment before pulling her up onto his lap. She sat straddling his legs, her face pressed to his bare chest.

“S-sorry, Daddy.”

“You don’t need to say sorry to me, Little girl,” he told her. “Say sorry to yourself. You need to be kinder to you.”

As her crying slowed, she slid her thumb into her mouth, feeling exhausted.

Jameson crouched in front of her, taking hold of her chin so he could clean her face with a tissue. He held the tissue to her nose.

“Blow.”

Eww.

He gave her a stern look. “Blow. Or the next time you’re in Little headspace, Papa will be doing everything for you.”

Her eyes widened. Everything?

Normally, Ian took care of her when she regressed very young. Although they hadn’t moved into the territory of diapers, there were training pants involved.

However, the look on Jameson’s face told her that he was serious.

Was it a threat or a promise, though?

Because there was a part of her that wanted that. She loved surrendering completely to Jameson.

She blew her nose into the tissue. “That’s not very nice, Papa.”

“I don’t know . . . I think you might like that idea.” His face grew concerned. “Would you like to revisit the idea of a therapist later?”

Would she?

Or did she know deep down that was what she really needed? “I think it might be a good idea. Although I think Ian should have to go as well.”

“Not a bad idea, I suppose,” Ian said, shocking her.

Maggie drew back, looking up at him. “Really? You know, it’s really brave to admit you have a problem, Daddy. And to do something about it. I’m proud of you.”

Ian narrowed his eyes at her. “And what sort of problem do I have?”

“A spanky hand one.” She held her hand up to the side of her mouth. “You know . . . where you think your hand has a brain.”

“My spanky hand is feeling worn out,” he said.

“Aww. Too bad.”

“But Jameson and Jack both have spanky hands. Should I get them to wear their hands out on your ass?”

“Daddy, no! So mean. Also . . . maybe they should go to a therapist as well.”

“Perhaps we should,” Jameson agreed. “I know I have some fears of your disappearing again. And then there’s all that stuff with Elizabeth.”

“Ick. Elizabeth.” She grimaced after saying that and snuck a look at Jameson to see if he was upset.

But he actually smiled.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Jack told her. “Now, of course, I don’t need a therapist. So I’ll just be the driver and hand-holder.”

They all stared at him.

“What?” he asked.

“We can think about that later,” Jameson said. “But I’ll ask around for a good therapist, all right?”

“A kind one,” she whispered.

“Of course, Shortcake.”

“How about some Little time with Daddy, Daddy Two, and Papa?” Ian suggested.

“Daddy Two!” Jack said. “Ian, I’m surprised you’re calling yourself that.”

Ian narrowed his gaze at Jack. “I wasn’t.”

“Do I get to choose what we do?” she asked, eyes widening as she bounced on Ian’s lap. Her sore bottom protested the movement.

Ouchie.

“Within reason,” Ian said.

“What does that mean?” she asked. “There shouldn’t be any reasons, Daddy.”

“Last time you got to choose what we all did, you put make-up on all of us,” Jameson said dryly.

“I don’t care what anyone says, I looked freaking hot,” Jack declared.

She giggled. “I was going to suggest baking! I wants to bake a cake.”

Jameson and Ian looked slightly alarmed. Jack grinned.

“Yes! Chocolate?” Jack asked.

“Of course, Daddy. What’s the point if it’s not chocolate? And then we can eats it while we watch a film. Please, Daddy? Papa?”

She gave them her best puppy dog eyes. Which were pretty darn impressive if she did say so herself.

“All right, Shortcake. I can’t say no to that face.” Papa smiled at her.

“Fine, but there are rules,” Ian said.

“Rules are so boring, Daddy,” she complained.

“They keep us safe. You’re to stay on your stool and not move around the kitchen unless one of us lifts you down.”

She sighed. “Okay. Is that it?”

“No. You’re not to touch the stove.”

“How will I do that if I’m not allowed off the stool?” she asked.

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Are you getting sassy with me? Because there is a naughty corner with your name on it.”

Literally.

Jack had a wooden sign made of her name and had secured it to the wall in the corner of her nursery.

They didn’t call it a time-out because that had a different meaning in their house.

“Not me, Daddy. Maggie is never sassy. She’s a sweet girl. A little misunderstood at times. But very quiet and obedient.”

“Who is this Maggie, and when do we get to meet her?” Ian asked with fake-surprise.

“Daddy!” She dropped her lip out.

“Uh-uh. You know what that will get you,” Jameson said, lifting her out of Ian’s lap and putting her on his hip.

“Yes, Papa. I know.” She put her lip away. “There’s just one thing first.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

“Can someone . . . um . . . I mean, I need to . . . I have this ache.”

“Oh, you need to come,” Jameson drawled. “Hmm. I don’t know. What do you think? Jack? Ian?”

“I have a hankering for dessert before I eat cake,” Jack said with a wink.

“Please, Papa,” she begged.

“Very well. But I hope you learned your lesson before about being kinder to yourself,” Jameson said sternly.

“I did. Really.”

Ten minutes later, she was glad Jameson was carrying her as they entered the kitchen because Jack was very talented with his tongue. Jack walked in behind them, a big smile on his glistening lips.

Yikes.

“Ooh, I got another package today,” Jack said.

She eyed him nervously. Jack enjoyed shopping for her a lot. He disappeared into the storage room as Jameson sat her on a stool.

Ian placed an apron over her, then quickly put her hair back into a braid. He was getting really good at doing her hair.

Then Jack carried out a . . . a . . .

“Is that a highchair?” She studied the wooden chair. It had a black padded seat and black straps attached to it.

“Yep and it’s got a removable tray.” Jack set it up at the island and then picked her up, putting her in it. “Now, to put the straps on. Safety first!”

“Really, Daddy?” she said dryly.

“Really.” He strapped her in. “And now you can’t move. So Daddy Grumps doesn’t have to worry about you touching the stove. Or anything else in the kitchen that you shouldn’t be.”

“My name is not Daddy Grumps,” Ian grumbled.

Jack winked at her. “It so is.”

She giggled as Ian sighed. Jameson looked a bit lost as Ian and Jack started pulling out ingredients.

“Papa, you want to help me?” she asked.

“I think I’ll just watch you all,” Jameson said.

“Nuh-uh, Papa. We all have to help or we can’t eat the cake. Unless you want to wash up?”

“I’ll help you, Shortcake.”

Ian handed them ingredients he measured out first and she poured them into a bowl. Ian was whisking up the butter and sugar while Jack . . . well, she wasn’t sure what Jack was doing. But things flying everywhere.

Ian frowned at him. “You’re making a mess.”

“Oh, am I?” Jack put a dob of something on Ian’s nose.

Another giggle escaped her. Jack smacked a kiss on her cheek as he went past. An idea occurred to her. She placed a finger in the batter and held it up, aiming for Jameson’s face.

He dodged and she missed. Then he gave her a stern look.

Uh-oh. Her butt couldn’t take any more punishment.

“Papa, no! Mercy!”

But to her shock, instead of pulling her off the chair to spank her, he reached into the bowl and smudged some batter onto her nose.

She let out a squeal, smiling widely.

“Oh, now it’s on!” Jack cried, reaching for the flour.

“Jack, no!” Ian grabbed for the flour, but instead it somehow ended up all over him.

He was a flour ghost.

She started giggling, Jameson joining in. She laughed so hard that she nearly peed herself. This was exactly what she’d needed.

And she knew Jack had realized that. Which is why he’d risked Ian’s wrath—to make her laugh.

Two hours later, the kitchen was clean and so was Ian. And they were all sitting snuggled on the couch eating cake and watching a comedy on TV.

She leaned into Jack, then looked over at Jameson and Ian.

“I love you guys. So much.”

“Love you too, baby.” Jack kissed her head.

“Always.” Ian reached over to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“Forever.” Jameson blew her a kiss from the other end of the couch.

Perfect.