Page 5 of Chained
“Wow.” Terry wandered to the French windows and the balcony that overlooked the pool. “Nice.”
Edge remained just inside the doorway, arms crossed on his chest. “Gym’s directly under you. Boss says you should use it. Use the pool if you want. Dial zero on the phone for meals and laundry.”
“So it’s like a fancy hotel. Great. But what am I supposed to do besides work out?”
“Boss’ll tell you when he wants something.”
That wasn’t very informative.
“What’s your job?” Terry asked.
“Security.”
That made sense. Edge looked as if he could hold his own in a fight, that was for sure. Terry was good at fighting too—the Bureau made sure of it—and he wondered who’d win if he and Edge went at it, hand to hand. But that got him thinking of things he’d rather go at with Edge. Things that were just as physical as brawling but felt a whole lot nicer.
As if sensing Terry’s thoughts, Edge shifted his stance and cleared his throat. “Don’t go poking around. You need something, dial zero.”
“Got it. I’m sure I can make myself comfortable here. But I’m going to need to get some things from my place. Clothes and stuff.”
“Boss’ll have clothing brought to you.”
“Okay. But I still need to grab a few things.” And he needed to call in and let the Bureau know what was going on.
Edge stared at him a moment before nodding. “Be back within three hours—or don’t bother coming back at all.” He pressed his lips together as if stopping himself from saying more.
“Is that your rule or Whitaker’s?”
“Here, everything is the boss’s rule.”
Chapter Three
Duke and Holt hadn’t smelled the gun, and Edge wasn’t surprised. He had always been the best of the three at catching scents, and this odor had been very faint. What did surprise him was his own reaction. As soon as the boss told him to switch to human form, Edge should have told him. Yet he hadn’t, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t alerted his brothers either. Instead, he led the new prospect, Brandt, to the guest house, just as if he didn’t realize he had a gun in his suit jacket.
And when Brandt announced his intention to return to his apartment and fetch his belongings, Edge had very nearly warned him not to come back.
Now Edge made up the bed in the room adjacent to Brandt’s and wondered what the hell was going on. He belonged to the boss. A lifetime of training had taught him to be faithful to his owner, no matter how the owner treated him. After all, Edge’s body was the boss’s to do with as he might, and every aspect of his life lay entirely in the boss’s hands. As it should be. As was the proper way of things.
Yet Edge found himself worrying about the well-being of a complete stranger who carried a gun.
Brandt was ahandsomestranger, true enough. He could easily have been a fashion model. Tall and lean, with slightly olive-toned skin and wiry muscles. Coal-dark hair, eyes that changed color depending on the light, flared cheekbones, wide mouth. Edge could picture him posing languidly on the page of a glossy magazine, wearing expensive clothing and a pouty expression, maybe with a wraith-thin woman draped against him.
He’d been even more stunning naked. Edge had been in dog form then, which was just as well. As a man, he’d have felt his fingers itch to touch him. Caress him. To squeeze his ass and stroke his thick cock to hardness.
But all of the boss’s prospects were pretty; it was a requirement of the job. The boss was willing to have them diet and exercise to get them looking the way he wanted, and he might even spring for plastic surgery to smooth away minor imperfections. But they had to be beautiful even without his improvements, or he wouldn’t even consider them.
Edge had never worried about those attractive men the way he worried about Brandt—and none of them had carried a gun.
Frowning, he walked to the window and surveyed the lawn and pool. Some of the groundskeepers were tending the rosebushes near the main house. The boss was proud of those roses, and Edge and his brothers were forbidden to piss on them. But Edge didn’t like them. Carefully trained to snake against trellises, the roses were tame. Artificial, almost. Edge preferred the bougainvillea, which had bigger thorns and twined wherever it wanted to.
He checked the closet and dressers, which proved to contain ample clothing in his size. He didn’t mind wearing clothes, although some items felt unduly constricting, but he hated wearing shoes. He wished he could pick out his own clothing. If he were human and a free man, he’d spend his days with bare feet, a loose T-shirt of soft cotton, and comfortable shorts. Sweatpants if it got cold. He’d never wear suits, and he’d especially never wear ties. He shook himself and silently chastised his errant thoughts.
Brandt had been gone less than an hour, and Edge had nothing to do but pace his room. His human form still ached from last night, and he would have preferred to be roaming the grounds, his usual daily task. There were some benefits to his current duty, however, including his temporary quarters. Tonight he could soak in the deep tub if he wanted and then sleep on the comfortable human bed. And he wouldn’t be in a cage—at least not one that was visible.
Although the kennel had a television, Edge rarely watched it, mainly because he didn’t feel like fighting with his brothers over who got to choose the program. He wasn’t often interested in anything they wanted to watch. But now his temporary quarters had one too, and he had it all to himself. He switched it on, sat in the comfortable leather armchair, and spent some time being mystified by soap operas and talk shows. He wondered if human relationships were anything like the ones he saw on TV. If so, maybe he was better off than they were.
Even in human form his hearing was sensitive, and he caught Holt barking near the parking area. Edge hastily turned off the television, shoved his feet into the despised shoes, and took off running. Holt and Duke beat him to Brandt’s car—Duke growling softly in rebuke when Edge rushed by—but he still got there just as Brandt slammed the driver’s side door.
“Welcoming committee,” Brandt commented and then tugged a battered suitcase out of the passenger’s seat. “But where’s the other dog?”
