Chapter 7: Different strokes for different folks.

OH GOD, TRAVIS HAD just seen the butt plugs. He couldn't handle the idea of a vibrator, what was he going to think of a butt plug? Or the floggers? Or the sheep-shaped blow up dolls?

Calm down.

Bliss kept her gaze straight ahead and walked past the industrial shelves full of boxes and carefully inventoried sex toys.

What did it matter what he thought?

Okay, he was an attractive man once she got past the scary factor, but he was responsible for finding her missing sister. That was it. Besides, she was chubby and her vibrator collection would undoubtedly scare him away.

One more flight of stairs, a hallway, and she unlocked her office, stepping into her sanctuary. She held her office door open for Travis and shut it behind him. Hopefully everyone else would take the hint and leave her alone.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled and retreated to her desk chair.

Her office was one of the more spacious ones, but that was because she was now in charge of order fulfillment to their bulk-buying clients. Namely, the adult film producers who sometimes liked an in-person meeting and demonstration of the products. Her desk was the size of Texas and she had two windows with a lovely view of the mountains. She turned on her desktop and waited for it to boot up.

"Do people...use those?" Travis sat across from her in one of the desk chairs. He had a few brown folders laid out in front of him and a frown on his face.

"Not enough to matter, and that's the point."

"But there are people who use them?"

"Yes." She tried to not bristle, but she knew the condemnation was next, and she couldn't help but take those comments personally. She might never want a cantaloupe sized thing shoved up her ass, but if she did, why judge?

"Christ...I don't think I want to know. Different strokes I guess."

Bliss glanced at him, waiting for Travis to tack on some other statement, but he was too busy looking at the walls. That was it?

"The BDSM practitioners who visit the store have a saying-Your kink isn't my kink. I feel like the sentiment applies to most of the stuff we sell." She relaxed marginally.

Not so bad.

She logged into her computer and brought up her email. Of course it had to be the holidays. Shipping was tricky and their sales volume was high, which was a good sign for the next year.

"Employee of the Year?" Travis' voice broke her concentration from composing a carefully worded email.

"Uh, yeah."

"How do you get that working here? Or do I not want to know?"

"What is it you think I do?" She turned to face him slightly. "You had your computer nerd run some sort of check on me. Why?"

She'd focused on the wrong part of that conversation. It wasn't just that Gavin what's-his-face knew she was chubby or that she worked in adult boutique. He had everything at his fingertips. He didn't even need to ask her questions about Wendy because he probably already had it all in his email.

"Some of the messiest jobs I've been on involved a family member who came into a lot of money being kidnapped by their brother, cousin, uncle or whatever. It's routine."

"Don't I have to sign something to let you do that?"

"No."

"What else did you learn about me?"

"Nothing you haven't told me. I haven't had time to look."

"But you have it."

"Gavin would have sent it to me, yes."

"If you want to know something, just ask. I'd do anything for my sister." She didn't have anything to hide, but it was an invasion of her privacy.

"That right there. It makes you a suspect." He leaned forward, elbows on the arm rests. Somehow he made the chairs look child-size with his bulk and height. He couldn't even stop taking up the space in her office.

"Because I love my sister?" She stared at him. That was the biggest load of bull she'd ever heard.

"Your sister sounds like a nice person, but she can't take care of herself. She needs you, her husband, family and even staff to get her through a day. I'm assuming this was true before the baby and pregnancy. Dependence like that breeds discontent. Especially now that she has money and doesn't have to work for anything. Someone like you could see it as a way to scheme some money out of them, since you've done so much for her and you're still having to work here."

Her jaw dropped. Was he serious? White-hot rage burned through her.

"That's not true," she blurted. "Any of it. I love my sister, and I'm glad she has Grayson in her life. And I like my job."

But was she being completely honest? Weren't there nights she lay in bed, alone and a tiny bit bitter that things worked out so easily for Wendy?

"Bliss, I'm not saying that's the case here. We know it isn't, but I've seen it happen. I want to clear that line of investigation so we can focus on finding her. You are not a suspect."

She jabbed the keys on her computer, pounding out the messages that had to be handled. She wasn't ready to stop being angry with him. He was still going to tromp through her life. He hadn't said he wouldn't.

"I'm not trying to say anything bad about your situation. Shit. This is why I don't talk to clients." He flipped through one of the folders in his lap. The silence drew out for several minutes, neither of them speaking. "You mind if I make a few calls?"

"Go ahead."

Bliss kept her eyes on the screen. Why the heck were producers working this close to Christmas? And clearly it was too much to ask her boss to deal with them right now.

I love my job.

"Yeah, hi, my wife and I wanted some information on getting a new system installed." Travis had one of her pens and a sticky note in front of him. Had he noticed the phallic designs yet? She didn't think so. "Do you monitor your system yourself? Or do you have a company that does that? ...Yeah... Oh...I understand, but we can't in good faith make a decision without knowing who we're talking to... That would be great, thank you. Compliance Systems? Got it. And what are your rates? ...Perfect. I'll talk it over with the wife and get back to you."

"What was that about?" she asked.

"2008. The only reason authorities knew Mindy was missing was because her alarm was set off by her cat trying to get outside. He'd been locked in the house for a week without food."

"Is that a lead?"

"Maybe." He held his phone up to his ear. "We'll find out."

How was she supposed to concentrate on dildos right now?

***

DANIEL TWISTED THE KEY in the padlock until the tumblers gave way. He'd debated disposing of his latest projects. Two of them were such good subjects. The third didn't have much promise. He wouldn't be surprised if that one expired on its own. In truth, it was fairer to terminate them now. His new wife would be taking up much of his time while they set about starting their new family.

He lifted the door and opened it by force. Time and age had worn the wood down. He was considering widening the path and installing a better door, but that would mean putting in more permanent electricity. Right now, he flipped a switch at the house, and power flowed out to his workshop. Three lights illuminated the honeymoon suite, his holding cells, and the workshop. There was only one outlet for his power tools-everything else was done by hand.

"Good afternoon, dear. Sleep well?" He closed the door behind him to keep the wind out and shed his jacket. The keys were a heavy weight against his hip.

Wendy had her back against the bars on the far side of the suite. He hoped she liked his house and would be a good mother to his other children. He'd made sure to dust them all off in preparation for the introductions.

The subject in cell one whispered something to her, and she jumped.

His Wendy was so delicate.

"I slept well," she said.

"Good. Good. One last bit of housekeeping and we can finally be together." He smiled at her and unlocked the door to her suite. It was a bit on the rustic side. Some of his previous wives hadn't liked it much, but Wendy had good breeding and manners. She could appreciate the aesthetic.

"What are you doing?" Wendy's dark eyes widened, and she pushed to her feet. She was so thin she swayed and had to grip the bars for support. That wouldn't do. He'd need her strong and healthy, so she could give him a son.

"Taking care of some loose ends."

He locked the door behind him and strode across to the workshop entrance. Wendy thoughtfully kept out of his way, which was good.

He could not wait for their honeymoon.

"Loose ends? What does that mean?" Her voice raise in pitch, reverberating off the stone.

"He means he's going to kill us," the subject in cell one said. He was an older man, roughly sixty years old, who Daniel had picked up off a street corner. The subject was hardy and had held on, despite being separated from every major limb. It was a shame to dispose of him, but Daniel had more important things to think about.

"You're what? You can't kill them." Wendy's voice wavered.

He hated the wavering. It lead to tears, and not the regal, quiet ones Wendy had shed last night. The ones that turned noses and eyes red and shook bodies.

"Be quiet," he snarled and banged the gate.

"It's okay, Wendy," the subject in cell two said. He was younger, an addict with a resilient body.

"Do not speak to my wife." Daniel thrust his finger at subject two, who merely stared at him.

Daniel peered in at the subject in cell four, but the body was an empty husk. A pity, since that took all the fun out of it, but not having to deal with a squirming subject would be easier in the long run, and he was still healing from the knife wound.

He opened the cell and dragged the body to his workshop in the back. The old wooden table had supported many such projects over the years. Deep gouges scored the wood from blades and nails alike.

It was time to put these subjects to rest with the others. Then, and only then, could he get on with the business of starting his new family.