"DiNozzo!"
The voice sounded weird, and very far away, but pleasantly familiar—if not rather annoyed.
"…Mnph…" Tony answered.
"Hey, Tony!"
The voice was louder, getting closer and closer…Tony jumped awake as a pillow made contact with his face.
"Get up." Gibbs muttered. He was standing outside the bathroom, adjusting a shirt sleeve. Warm white light filtered through the semi-sheer curtains on the windows and sliding door.
"Five more minutes, boss…"
Gibbs watched Tony roll over into the warm sheets, stuffing the new pillow under his head. And here I was worried he may have trouble sleeping in the bed…
"No." Gibbs marched over and yanked the covers from Tony's body. "Get up. We have work to do."
Aware that he'd lost the argument, Tony sat up. A glance at the clock made him groan again. 0700. He rubbed his eyes before grabbing a few items from his bag and heading for the shower. Fifteen minutes later they were outside the room, ready to interview. Tony was looking over the employee list while Gibbs pulled the door shut and tested it to make sure it was locked. He placed the 'do not disturb' sign out, deciding he didn't want anyone poking around and finding anything on the case. Satisfied, Gibbs clipped the black leather leash to Tony's collar and started walking, unaware that Tony was still oblivious and reading the list. The leash tugged harshly at his throat and Tony let out a squawk of surprise.
"Sorry, master—coming, master!" He yelped. He quickly fell into step behind his boss. Gibbs stopped immediately.
"Shit, DiNozzo." Gibbs turned back, looking at Tony's throat with a worried frown on his face.
"I'm fine." Tony said in a soft voice, allowing Gibbs to examine his neck. There were no marks—Gibbs hadn't tugged him all that hard.
Gibbs shook his head and Tony knew from the expression on his face that Gibbs was mentally cussing himself out.
"It's okay, Gibbs. Really." Tony smiled. "Worse things have been done to me."
Gibbs frowned and muttered something. Tony thought he caught the words 'bastard masters.' They continued walking towards the elevator and Gibbs made sure to leave lots of slack in the lead.
They were waved behind the desk, and Gibbs went to a thick wood door at the end of a hallway behind the main desk. He knocked politely and waited. The hotel manager answered moments later.
"Ah, Mr. Gibbs." He gestured them inside. The office was nicely furnished, and seemed to be the only room at the hotel that wasn't themed like an arctic wonderland. A desk sat in front of a window, and a small conference table of sorts was on one side of the room surrounded by four cushioned chairs. "You're here for more interviews?" The manager asked.
"Yeah, six more people." Gibbs glanced at Tony and Tony handed over the list. The last few names on the list were for six members of the janitorial staff.
"Hmm…" The manager looked at the names. "This can be arranged." He radioed the head janitor. They spoke briefly before the man hung up. "They will each be here shortly. Do you require anything?"
Gibbs caught Tony's eye. He pointed to a spot on the floor next to one of the chairs at the conference table. "Kneel there, please." Tony nodded and took the end of his leash, then obediently knelt in the indicated spot. He placed the leash loop in a hook on the chair at his left and went perfectly still, back straight and head down.
"No. We're fine." Gibbs said to the manager. The man looked over Tony with an approving glance.
"He's well-trained."
"And as loyal as a Saint Bernard." Gibbs answered.
The manager wished him luck and left. Tony waited until the door clicked closed before standing up.
"Jeez, that guy was eager to please." Tony said, wandering around the comfortable area. Gibbs tossed a notebook onto the table and a couple pens, then sat down.
"He doesn't want to piss us off. Afraid we'll complain to Ching-Lan."
"Uh, boss?" Tony said.
Gibbs looked at him expectantly.
"Where do you want me?"
Gibbs frowned.
"I mean, should I kneel the whole time, or…"
"Sit at the table with us, DiNozzo. I had you kneel just for show—we definitely don't want to give that guy a reason to restrict us from anywhere."
Tony nodded and sat beside his boss. Gibbs undid the leash and coiled it in his pocket.
A few minutes later, a short Mexican man knocked and entered the room when bidden. He was older, definitely not a slave. He had jeans and a waterstained navy polo on with his name embroidered in the corner. He glanced from Gibbs to Tony, his eyes lingering briefly on Tony's silver collar. Gibbs took a notebook and pen and gestured to a chair, inviting him to sit down. The man did so. Gibbs took a deep breath, about to launch into some very broken Spanish. But then Tony swooped in. He introduced Gibbs, then himself, then asked the man his name, all in perfect, smooth Spanish. The man seemed to relax significantly as Tony bubbled along, rattling off names and dates and checking facts on some sheets Abby had printed out. Gibbs only caught about every twelfth word, but he was too thrilled to even care. He had completely forgotten Tony spoke Spanish. He leaned back in his chair, more than happy to let Tony take over. The conversation wound down not long later, and Tony was soon saying goodbye. He left and Gibbs turned his attention to Tony, intent on handing out some much-deserved praise.
"Boss, I'm sorry." Tony said quickly. "I know—I should've asked your permission before just taking over like that."
"DiNozzo," The headslap he gave the younger man was almost instinctive. "You're doing a great job. I'm proud of you. Keep it up, take over."
Tony looked dumbstruck at the flow of kind words as well as the unexpected slap. His mouth hung open. He closed it. A smile broke across his face just as the next employee came in.
Tony kept up the great interviews, asking questions and jotting answers for the next four people. They were all free people, and a few were clearly surprised that Gibbs was allowing Tony to take control so readily. He spoke confidently, either in English or Spanish, and put the interviewees at ease, getting information from them quickly. After the fifth woman left Tony sighed.
"None of them remember anything, boss." He grumbled. There was one name left on the list. "It's one huge dead-end!"
"Sh." Gibbs said. "You can't say that yet. We still have…" he looked at the list, "Ms. Consuelo." As if on cue, a curly-haired, dumpy woman knocked and entered. She smiled at Gibbs and sat down. Tony ran through his usual questions. He showed her the photos and the told her the names. She paused, and then tapped the picture, nodding at Tony. Gibbs didn't need to speak the language to understand that she knew what Tony was talking about. Tony said something excitedly. She nodded and answered. They continued like this for a little while until she gave Tony a name and room number, which he wrote down quickly. He was all smiles as he escorted her to the door, thanking her over and over. She laughed and waved him off and Tony shut the door behind her.
"Boss! She remembers!"
"I figured." Gibbs said with a slight grin.
"She gave me this guy's name—he works for security, in charge of the surveillance tapes for the resort. She remembers seeing Mei-Lien and Co. when they last stayed here—." Gibbs took the notebook from him and glanced over the notes as Tony explained. "She said she remembers because the sight of a white woman, an Indian man, and a little Chinese girl together was pretty uncommon."
Gibbs nodded, agreeing.
"But get this." Tony said. "Apparently, one night, she was cleaning out a vacated room and she heard yelling. She went out to see what it was, and sure enough, it was coming from the room where Mei-Lien was staying. She said it was a man's voice mostly—yelling, banging things. A woman was also yelling—something about el dinero." Gibbs' eyebrows went up.
"Money." Tony clarified. "My guess," He grinned, rocking back on his heels, "is Daljeet and Lewis had a little argument."
Gibbs smiled and ruffled Tony's hair playfully. He looked down at the written security guard's name: Homer McMurtry.
"Good job, DiNozzo. Good job."
Tony grinned at the praise.
Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and dialed Abby, while Tony called Ducky. Five minutes later everyone was in the lobby. Tony was aware of Gibbs briefing them on the newly-found details, but he was still on the mini high of having a master—especially Gibbs—tell him how happy he was with his good behavior.
"Alright, DiNozzo." Gibbs handed Tony a slip of paper with the surveillance room number on it. "You got the info from Consuelo, so I want you to interview McMurtry too."
Tony nodded in delight and took the paper. The room was in the basement, through the north stairwell.
"You have your phone?" Gibbs asked.
Tony held it up.
"Okay. We'll be piecing it together in one of the rooms, so call when you've finished." Gibbs unclipped the leash and Tony ran off towards the stairs at the back of the hotel.
Finally they were getting somewhere! They may have a hope of solving this case after all. Then Ching-Lan wouldn't have any reason to take him away. Tony wound around through the long halls of doorways. He came up to a wide glass door that led outside to a courtyard in the center of the hotel. A terrace with padded blue lounge chairs and a large outdoor pool occupied the courtyard and Tony paused. He knew the stairs he needed were on the opposite side of the hotel. Cutting through the terrace would save some time. He tucked the paper into his pocket and pushed through the glass door. The pool was empty of people and the aqua water shimmered in the sunlight. It was a cool day, too cold to swim. The sun was warm though, and all the deck chairs were empty. Tony scooted past the chairs, winding his way around to the door.
"Well, well."
He froze. Justine Bergman was reclining on a chair with a hardcover book in her lap. Her man-made boobs were stuffed into a pink bikini top, the lower piece of which was barely a step above thong. A muscular slave boy knelt at her arm. He wasn't the one from the restaurant. This guy was much bigger.
"What are you doing out here?" She got up and dropped the book down before taking a step towards Tony.
"I…um,"
"Your big bad master never gave me a call. Is he around?" She glanced behind Tony and he winced, suddenly remembering that he was not supposed to be left unattended or unleashed. It had completely slipped his mind when Gibbs told him to go find McMurtry. Apparently it had slipped Gibbs' mind as well.
"Answer my question, slave."
"No." Tony whispered. "He's inside."
"Does he know you're out here all by yourself?"
"He sent me—"
"He sent you to the pool all alone?" She asked, clearly surprised at the idea.
"Well, no. But he did send me to—."
"So you're disobeying him?" she said coyly. "What a bad boy."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "I'm not disobeying him." He snapped. "He sent me out here. On an errand."
"You're off your leash. There's no freedom tags on your collar. And he's not with you." She said simply. Tony felt a pang of panic. "You're a loose slave."
"No I'm not." Tony said, briefly remembering the sketch pad guy from a few days ago. He hadn't been collared then, but he sure as hell was now. "I belong to Gibbs." He told her, feeling a small swell of safety and happiness.
"You don't have to. My offer still stands." She reached up and stroked the side of his face. "I still want to buy you." Tony jerked away from her touch. "Come to my room with me. I'll have you begging to be at the end of my leash by the end of today."
"No." Tony said firmly. He stepped back.
"Yes." She hissed. Her hand tightened around his collar and Tony pulled away again.
"Get away from me." He growled. "I'm owned. I have a master. He'll be pissed if you even come near me."
"Oh, I think he's probably pissed enough already that his slave has wandered off."
"He knows where I am you psychopath!" Tony practically yelled.
She barked something at the kneeling slave and he rose.
"You could have a good life with me. I travel all over the world and I bring my boys with me." She gripped Tony's collar again, harder.
"I don't care what you have—I'm not going anywhere with you." Tony tried to tear out of her grasp and reach for his phone, but he flinched when the woman's slave grabbed his arms behind his back.
"She's nuts!" Tony hissed to him. "Let me go!" He didn't expect the guy to answer, and he didn't. There was no way Tony could wrestle out of those huge arms. The woman motioned to the door and Tony was dragged towards them.
"This is against the law!" He yelled to her. "I'm owned! I have a collar! You can't do this!" She clamped her hand over his mouth and her eyes flashed dangerously.
"Shut up or you'll be gagged." She smiled. "That would be a good look for you. That incessant mouth finally quieted."
Tony gulped, remembering a few weeks ago when Bronislav gagged him and locked him in the closet. He remembered the fear of not knowing how long he'd be stuck in there, chained and tied and mute.
The slave guy's burly hands on his wrists were tighter than cuffs, and in a panic-induced burst of adrenaline, Tony lashed out. He slammed his head backwards, nailing Mr. Muscle in the nose. The guy snarled and let Tony go. At the same time Tony kicked out, getting a shot right in the shin of the blonde bimbo. She shrieked a curse and Tony took off running. He had to get back to the lobby—had to get back to Gibbs or Ducky. They were the only ones who could help him. He was slammed bodily into the wall and he saw stars. Mr. Muscle was back, his nose bloody, and he looked angry.
"That was stupid." The woman growled. "I can scream sexual assault. Do you know what they do to male slaves who sexually assault a free woman?"
Tony trembled, trapped again in the meaty hands of the big slave. He knew alright. The very best he could hope for was a hard whipping and a long stint of jail time. At the very worst, he'd be castrated or killed.
"Bring me to my master and this will get settled." Tony said, pushing those thoughts aside.
"Cute." She patted his cheek. "Just like you. But no, I don't think that would work at all. I think you should spend a few nights in the cells. The hotel has some, did you know? In the basement. Built especially for spirited slaves like yourself."
Tony almost laughed. The basement. It seemed like days ago that he was trying to get there to talk to Homer about the case. Mr. Muscle tightened his grip and he was vaguely aware of being paraded down the hall and back towards the lobby. Maybe Gibbs was still there?
He wasn't. Nor were Ducky or Abby.
The woman yelled at the hotel manager, pointing at Tony and drawing the disapproving glares of everyone present.
"My master sent me—!" Tony's defense was cut off when a security guard tied a gag firmly between his teeth. He struggled again, trying to break away, but really it was no use. The entire hotel staff was against him now, along with the crazy Bergman woman. He was handcuffed and lugged down to the basement. He groaned as they passed the surveillance room. It should have been so simple. They came upon a small cell at the end of the hall. It was grey, dirty, and stank like decay and old water. The guard hustled him in there and forced him to his knees on the gritty concrete before chaining his wrists to the wall above his head.
"Give him a day or two to think things over." The manager sniffed.
Tony's eyes widened. He turned his head, watching the manager hit the lights. Everything went totally black, then, footsteps disappearing. Tony leaned his forehead on the wall and growled around the gag. He tried to stop the memories, but it was too late…
"Well, I gotta say, you are the most stubborn son of a bitch I have ever met." Sutton stared at Tony, his meaty arms crossed over his chest. Tony stood as straight as he could, trembling. The ball gag between his teeth was tight and uncomfortable. Saliva dripped down his chin and puddled on the floor. The chains binding his wrists were cutting into the sensitive skin that was already scabbed from repeated mistreatment. Everything from his knees to his shoulders was aching, screaming from the man's whip, but still Tony refused to kneel for him and take a leash. He'd never kneel for this man. Slave laws be damned, his legs would have to be broken before he knelt for anyone.
"Stubborn, or stupid." Sutton said. "You will break, boy. You realize that, right? You will be on this floor before the night is through."
He was right, Tony thought miserably. Hours later, Sutton had given up with the beatings and just wrapped his leash around his throat, tying him to a ring bolted to the floor, forcing his knees to bend. Kind of like right now. Tony pulled on the bonds again, not surprised when they held fast. He tilted his head back and roared as loud as he could, his frustration and humiliation reaching a boiling point. If Ching-Lan heard about his little stint in jail, he could probably kiss Gibbs' house goodbye forever whether they solved the case or not. His stomach twisted. He wouldn't be surprised. That couldn't happen—he couldn't let that happen. Gibbs and Abby and Ducky wouldn't stand for it. He couldn't go live with some new bastard master and take this crap all over again, not when his friends had found him and started treating him like a person again.
There was no answer to his roar, no one to even yell at him to shut up. Tony rested his head on the wall again, trying to find some sort of peace. One of them would get him out, he trusted Gibbs enough now to believe that. He just had to wait.