Together Bound

Chapter 1-2

Geoffrey Clarke wasn’t expecting his guests to particularly like him. He stood and stepped around his desk to greet them, motioning to the chairs, making a point to indicate both chairs. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat.”

When the older of the two simply stopped halfway through the room and politely informed him they were just fine where they were, Clarke knew this was going to be rougher than he’d thought. Taking the coward’s way out, he retreated to the far side of his desk.

He knew the slave was young, only twenty-three, barely more than a boy, his age was listed in the public sale records. The kid’s master was another story. It seemed there’d been two parties involved in the boy’s purchase. The fact that this man was the obvious owner and not much older than his slave confirmed Clarke’s suspicions they’d been bound as children. Ever since he’d arrived at his office earlier that morning and read the message from Todd Ruger, Clarke had been having second thoughts. Seeing the two of them now fueled his doubts and his second thoughts turned to being guilt-ridden. In fact, he was damn near drowning in guilt.

The younger man dropped to one knee behind and to the left of his master. Clarke saw how the kid curled the fingers of one hand into the hem of Ruger’s pants for a few seconds, tugged lightly, and then folded both hands together and rested them on his thighs.

“I’m Geoffrey Clarke.” He purposely left off his title.

“I know who you are, and I don’t care. You can’t do this.” Ruger’s left hand dropped onto his slave’s head for a few beats. Clarke doubted the man even realized he’d done that.

“I understand this is—”

“Hard for me?” Ruger snapped. “He’s…my…mate.”

“I was going to say—”

“He’s my mate,” Todd repeated the words, voice softening. “Do you have a family, Mr. Clarke?”

Nodding, Clarke said, “Yes. I have a wife and two daughters.”

“How about you just hand over your wife to me for whatever I want to do with her?”

Clarke winced. The guy had a very valid point.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I needed…I asked around, and your name came up over and over again as the best sentry. I don’t know much about…shit.”

“So, you wanted to hire a sentry and figured the way to win me over was threaten my mate?” Ruger was spitting words at him again. The man looked positively frightening. His slave scooted farther to the right so he was more behind his master than not.

“It’s a complicated matter. I needed someone who could get the job done but who I could trust would follow the instructions to never talk about it. Your slave is the only slave I could find who had any actual sentry skills, and he does have a special talent.” Leaning his hands on his desk, he let his weight shift forward. “I guess I didn’t think this through very well. I’m sorry. I never should have sent that letter. You’re both free to leave.”

Todd’s face softened, and his shoulders relaxed by a small fraction. He glanced down for a beat, his slave glancing up, their eyes locking before the slave’s head ducked down again.

“What do you need a sentry for?”

Clarke watched a slow smile spread over the slave’s face; an expression of pride replaced what had been apprehension.

Dropping his gaze to the boy kneeling behind Todd, Clarke waved a hand up and down. “Son, stand up, get off the floor.”

The kid looked up at Todd, who tilted his head and nodded. His slave rose and stood behind him.

“What’s your name, boy?” For the life of him, he couldn’t pull the name on the kid’s records out of his head.

“Nick.”

Clarke straightened. “Nick, I’m sorry. I had no way of knowing what sort of relationship you had with your master. I’d heard stories that sentries only took slaves to use as weapons.”

“Nick hunts. He doesn’t kill,” Todd said. Clarke couldn’t help the feeling that every sentence the man uttered was some sort of challenge. “I kill.”

Why didn’t Ruger’s last statement surprise him? “As I said, I didn’t think things through very well.”

“No, you didn’t.” Todd was snarling again, not that Clarke could blame him for being angry.

“Please, sit down.”

Todd crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

Shifting so he could look Nick in the eye, Clarke asked, “Is your master always like this?”

The boy, Nick, smiled. It was soft, affectionate, and incredibly kind. “Only when it comes to me.”

Todd interrupted. “Maybe since you scared the hell out of us and dragged us across town, you could tell us what the problem is? You still need a sentry. We’re sentries and, as you know, obligated to assist when asked.”

Clarke realized addressing Nick directly had done a lot to cool Todd down. “How much do you follow the lives of politicians?”

“Not much,” Todd said.

“In the last few weeks, Chancellor Shaffer hasn’t been himself. To the point that he’s someone I don’t even know anymore, and it could jeopardize the integrity of our government and our security. I don’t know about you, but I definitely don’t want to worry about being absorbed by West Caldera.”

Todd snorted and Nick tensed, but neither made any comment.

“I couldn’t openly hire a sentry. That would raise too many questions. I honestly felt I had no other recourse.”

“What exactly has the chancellor done, or not done, that’s made you suspicious?” Todd asked. “Why do you think it’s something you need a sentry for?”

“I’ve ruled out drug use. None of what has been happening has fit that pattern. He looks like himself, but I’ve known this man since university. He’s like a brother to me, and I can say, the man I see now? It isn’t him. Up until earlier this year, I’d say he was the most devoted family man you’d ever meet. Doted on his wife and children, never once looked at another woman. Now he not only looks at them—but men, as well. He has multiple partners, wild parties, and I’m fairly certain he’s using government funds for at least some of his…activities. The oddest thing is, when he looks at me, it’s as if he’s looking through me. His eyes are wrong, his whole expression, demeanor, is wrong.”

Todd rubbed at his chin, obviously digesting this information. “His eyes are wrong how?”

“Nothing I can put my finger on. They’re the same color, but…I don’t know, it’s as if there’s someone else looking out.”

Looking at his feet for a few seconds, Todd drew in a deep breath before looking back up. “Can you pin it down to anything? Was he attacked, or went on a trip, was somewhere out of the ordinary alone for a day or so?”

“Not too long before this started, he did tour one of the more remote areas south of here that was hit by a hurricane late last year.”

“Those types of things tend to stir up all sorts of nasties, flushes them out or wakes them up. Was the change sudden or gradual?”

“Not immediate, over the span of a few weeks, a month, maybe. The more he does, the more he seems to want to do.” Clarke stopped and drew up the courage to ask the most important question. “Do you think he can be saved?”

Todd’s gaze slid away from his. “I don’t know. It’s going to depend on what the problem is. He’s at the Chancellor’s Estate, I take it?”

“Yes. You understand, this has to be kept quiet. If it were to become public that the chancellor had been compromised weeks ago—”

“I get it.” Todd cut him off sharply. “I’m going to need a way to be in there, move around without really attracting attention or anyone thinking it’s odd I’m there. Some way that gives me freedom but no one pays attention to me. And by me, you do understand I mean we. Nicky and I are a set.”

Clarke nodded. He hadn’t exactly expected their help, and he surely didn’t think Todd would leave his young mate alone while he went in and worked on this problem. “That might be an issue. I knew how I was going to get Nick in. He’s a slave. As I said, I hadn’t really thought things through very well.”

“Yeah, we established that.” Todd shifted his weight so he was more between Nick and Clarke. “Just how were you going to get Nick inside?”

The shame of what he had planned hit Clarke, and he sat down heavily, unable to look at either of the men before him.

“How?” Todd growled.

“Orphan slave.” Clarke picked at a blotting mat on his desk. “There’s a huge government orphan slave sanctuary there.” When he looked up and saw the horror and then anger in Todd’s eyes, he quickly added, “Not that he’d actually be an orphan slave.”

“You were going to take my mate and put him—” Todd was breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t see another way. Other than the highest-ranking officials, estate employees aren’t permitted slaves while they’re assigned there. Though they are encouraged to…interact…with the orphan slaves and purchase one, or more, when they leave.”

Todd’s nostrils flared, his upper lip twitched a few times, and his gaze went hard and flat.

Clarke’s insides churned. He folded his hands together, hoping how they suddenly shook wouldn’t show. “I am being as honest with you as possible.”

“Is there any other way?”

Clarke shook his head. “I’m sorry. No. Not that I’ve been able to think of, anyway. I hadn’t thought of you being in there.”

Nick’s fingers slid over Todd’s shoulder. “What’s an orphan slave?” he asked very quietly.

“They’re…” Todd’s voice faltered. It was plain for Clarke to see this was something that bothered him greatly.

“When an owner dies and leaves no provisions for who is to take his or her slave, those are referred to as orphans. They become wards of the protectorate and are taken to live in one of a few compounds. The largest is in the Chancellor’s Estate. They are given jobs there. The goal is to have them resold, but if that doesn’t happen, they live out their lives in the sanctuary,” Clarke explained.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Nick leaned over Todd’s shoulder. “It’s better than them starving or being homeless.”

“Just barely, Nick.” Todd ground out. “What he’s not telling you is they have their wrist brands removed, and anything from their life before is taken away.”

That made Clarke angry. “They’re cared for. They’re given counseling and work and protection. Honestly, if people would do the simple thing of drawing up a few papers and taking care of business, the government wouldn’t have to step in that way. It’s obscene to do that to a slave, not provide for them in case of owner death. We do the best we can with it. It’s one of the main reasons estate employees don’t have their own slaves. It would create too many problems and heartache for the orphans.”

Todd straightened and blinked at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“That I would feel that way?” Clarke bit out.

Nodding, Todd looked down, cheeks flushing pink. “Guess you’re not so bad after all.” A quick look back at Nick. “We’ll have to work out how I get in, but you’ve got yourself a pair of sentries.”

“We have a floor of a nearby hotel reserved for VIPs. Please, I know I’ve put you both through a lot, and I want to apologize. Be my guests there until we have the details worked out. A little vacation for the two of you before you head south to the estate?”

“I’d rather you pay us three times what we normally get.” Todd rocked on his heels and smirked.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Ruger. I’ll do both. Keys will be waiting at the desk.”

“Under what name?”

Clarke thought about that. “Good point. If you are yourself, someone will find out and know you’re a sentry. How about McCabe? Tyler McCabe.”

“Wasn’t he some kind of musician?”

Grinning, Clarke nodded. “Jazz, about fifty years ago. He’s dead now.”

Todd turned, nudging Nick ahead of him, then stopped and looked Clarke up and down, saying, “We have to get some supplies. We’ll get back by tonight.”

Clarke smiled at them, hoping this didn’t turn into a royal disaster. As the pair left his office, he saw how Nick gulped. Nick’s fingers fisted the back of Todd’s shirt for a few seconds before he let his hand drop and bump against his thigh. Nick’s gaze skittered around the room as the door shut behind them.