Chapter 10: Intoxicating kisses.

WHAT THE HELL?

Travis took a sip of water and peered at the house in the distance. He was getting closer, and he needed to stop thinking with his dick. Kissing Bliss had been...fantastic. And a terrible idea. She might not be paying him, but she was still a client. For now. Some guys might not be terribly bothered about bedding their temporary employer, but not Travis. The way he saw it, when he was brought into a situation it was always under great duress.

Bliss wasn't thinking clearly. She was emotional, and he was the man there to fix her problems. It made sense she'd flirt with him. It was a common case of hero syndrome, or whatever his boss called it. Any other month, she wouldn't look at him. A guy with his record didn't get girls like her. But for this moment in time, she did. And it was fucking with his head.

He needed to find Wendy and get her out of here so the cops could do their job and put this bastard away. Then he could go back to his normal routine of catching bullets.

The FBI's tech had a name for their serial killer.

Daniel Campbell. Fifty-four. He'd lived in and around Las Vegas for most of his life. He'd started out as an electrician before an accident ten years ago made an active lifestyle impossible. There was a string of minor charges against him for bar brawls, but otherwise nothing since his juvenile days, and those records were sealed.

The structure was a small stucco style house set in the foothills of Muddy Mountain. The terrain rolled and rose, painted a riot of color by the late-afternoon light, a bed of rocks and shrub that worked great for masking his approach. Getting away was another matter. He hoped Ethan and Mason showed up, or else he'd be hoofing it back to the truck, probably carrying Wendy. He'd done more under worse circumstances, but now he had Bliss to worry about. He should have made her stay put at the house, but when she argued her point so thoroughly, he couldn't deny her.

Travis adjusted his path, aiming for the back part of the house. There was a large rock formation that could hide his approach and allow him to get closer without tipping Daniel Campbell off. Nearly twenty minutes later he was starting to sweat, but he could finally make out details of the house and surrounding property.

The gravel drive extended all the way to the house, and sitting in plain sight was the same late model Buick he'd seen on the security cameras driving out of Wendy's gated community. The skin between Travis' shoulder blades prickled. He drew his weapon and pulled out his cell phone, but there was no signal. Not even the ghost of a bar. He was on his own. It wasn't the first time, but back-up in a hostage situation was always ideal.

He got as close as the rock cover would allow, and settled in to observe the residence. Daniel's land was a long, narrow rectangle, stretching from the road all the way back to the mountain. Most of the shrub appeared to have been burned back at some point. A few scraggly bushes sat sentinel under the windows, but otherwise the property was quiet. Nothing stirred the curtains and there were no other signs of life.

Or were there?

Travis took off his sunglasses and peered at a narrow, worn path weaving between the cacti and scrub. He glanced at the house, searching for cameras or other surveillance equipment, but didn't spot anything. He pushed off the rocks and picked his way to the path, keeping low. In places, the overgrown brush was tall enough to hide him. If he hadn't been up on the rocks, he wouldn't have spied it.

There was a good chance he was being watched right now by means of small cameras. He could be walking into a trap, but it was the nature of his job to be caught, shot at, and attacked, so long as he protected his client. In this case, that meant not only Wendy, but Bliss as well. Like it or not, he was walking out of here no matter what condition he was in.

The path led between boulders and back into a narrow crevice. Travis had to turn sideways to squeeze through. At some point the sides had been carved back and smoothed out for someone with a smaller build than his.

He peered around a bend in the path and stared at an old, wooden door with a padlock drilled into the rock face.

***

BLISS CHECKED HER PHONE. Again.

Time was moving too fast. It needed to slow the hell down. There hadn't been as much as a smoke signal from Travis, and the sun was starting to set. What was going on over there? Was Wendy okay? What if they were both dead?

They hadn't agreed on a time limit, and she had no way to contact Travis' friends.

Something horrible had to have happened.

She rubbed her eyes with her hands. Wendy's face, frozen in fear, filled the darkness behind her lids. A hundred nightmares of losing her sister filtered through her brain. It wasn't Wendy's fault nature had made them different. Bliss loved everything that made her sister unique.

No one could see beauty in the unexpected like Wendy.

Despite Wendy's delicate appearance, she was strong. Even when she'd been stuck full of needles by doctors, she'd never once complained.

There wasn't a person in Bliss' life who loved like Wendy.

Bliss couldn't lose her little sister.

She crawled across to the driver's seat. Her feet were a long way from the pedals, highlighting just how much taller Travis was than her. She adjusted the seat and gripped the wheel.

What was she going to do?

Travis was tough, but he was still human.

She opened the center console and peered in, holding her breath. It wasn't like he could hide a rocket launcher in there, but he had quietly stashed two guns right under her nose.

A few receipts, some business cards, and two cardboard boxes littered the bottom of the console. Tucked up against the side was a large pocketknife. It was better than nothing.

Bliss shifted into drive and whipped the SUV around, driving back toward the gravel drive. She wasn't strong like Travis, but she wasn't about to let someone hurt her sister. In high school, Bliss had faced down the mean girls, in college she'd run off the losers. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for Wendy. But it wasn't just her sister that Bliss was fretting over.

Travis was the kind of man she avoided on principal. The bad boys made great poster boyfriends when she was younger, but as an adult she'd always been attracted to the nice guy type. Nice guys didn't break hearts. That was her job. Travis, though, being around him made her second-guess everything she thought she knew about her love life. He was a different kind of man. She could feel it in her bones. The way he thought, his stubbornness, and how he'd kissed her. He didn't fit into a neat box, and she couldn't help being concerned about him. She didn't want him getting hurt either.

She turned the truck down the drive and pressed the accelerator. The vehicle bounced down the road, kicking up plumes of dust in her wake.

The house grew closer, solidifying into a flat roof and stucco walls. It was old and dated, but not in a good way. Wooden posts supported a sagging porch, and the windows were so dirty she couldn't tell if there were curtains or just a layer of filth.

There was no sign of Travis or Wendy.

Where were they?

The back of her neck prickled. Apprehension and adrenaline made it hard to breathe. She glanced around, searching for some movement, some sign they were there. Had she missed a turn off? Was there another house?

Her cell phone had zero bars.

No wonder Travis hadn't phoned for help.

He had to be in trouble.

She pulled the knife out of her pocket. It was too big for her hands, but the longer blade gave her a modicum of confidence.

Travis and Wendy had to be in that house. There weren't any other buildings or places to hide. The only reason Travis wouldn't be back already was if they were in trouble. It was up to her now.

Bliss killed the engine and opened the door. The thump of drums and the twang of a guitar could be heard through the house's walls. Well, if a killer was trying to drown out the noise of...she didn't want to think about it, but it made sense.

She slipped out of the SUV. Her boots crunched on the gravel, and the bitter wind sliced through her hoodie. She'd dressed for shopping, not hunting her sister's kidnapper.

Instead of heading straight for the front door, Bliss swung to her left, aiming for the right side of the house. She kept her gaze on the windows, watching for movement. Nothing stirred or maybe the windows were too dirty to tell. She put her back to the side of the house and breathed a deep breath.

In her peripheral vision she caught sight of something familiar. She peered around the house, but all she could see was the back half of a Buick. She didn't know a lot about cars, but it looked like the same one she'd seen on the security footage.

"Oh, God."

She put her hands on her knees and sucked down a deep breath.

This was real.

Her sister was here.

And so was the man who'd taken her.

Bliss gathered her scattered thoughts and collected herself. This was crazy and stupid. She wasn't the person for this job, but she was all there was. Unless she wanted to call the cops and wait for them to get there. Travis and Wendy might die before then.

She crept around the front of the house and craned her neck to try to get a look inside the house, but it was dark. And shiny.

Trash bags.

There were trash bags on the inside of the windows.

How very Dexter.

She ducked and hustled to the front door. She crouched next to it and listened to the music. After this, she'd never be able to hear country and western music without cringing.

Bliss grasped the doorknob and pushed the unlocked door inward. It swung open on squeaky hinges, casting light into an otherwise dark interior. She waited for a second or two, but no one rushed out at her with an axe and there was no screaming.

She straightened and leaned inside.

To the right, the wood paneling dated the house at forty years old. Built-in wooden shelving cut off her view of the living room. Straight ahead she could make out what looked to be the kitchen. She brushed the wall, feeling for a light switch.

A single bulb flickered on in the entry, doing little more than the fading sunlight.

Something wasn't right.

If this guy had Travis, wouldn't Travis have put up a fight? Wouldn't there be yelling, or at least someone talking?

She stepped over the threshold. Another set of light switches was farther to her right, almost inside the living room. She tiptoed toward them, cringing when a floor board squeaked. The ceiling fan spun on a wobbly base and only one light came on when she flipped the switch.

The TV on the far side of the room was the source of the music. Some singer she couldn't name belted out a tune while sparks went off behind him. Bliss crossed to the older TV and hit the power button.

Silence descended on the house. Or near-silence. Her ears rang, and she wasn't sure if she could hear herself think yet.

She held completely still, listening for any sign of life.

The hair on the back of her neck rose.

He was right behind her, wasn't he?

Bliss pivoted, lifting the knife at the same time, but she was alone.

Staring back at her from the built-ins were at least a dozen little faces.

She gasped and stumbled back, hitting the TV with her elbow.

They were babies. Some of them were so small they would have fit in her palm, while others were maybe a couple of months old. The size of Paul. They each floated in their own glass jar, surrounded by murky liquid. Their little features were bloated and distorted until they didn't look human.

"Oh my God." She covered her mouth. Her throat constricted, and her stomach began to revolt.

Travis had said there were others. Was this what he hadn't told her? That the women were broodmares for...whatever this was?

An engine rumbled up to the back of the house. Bliss ducked out of the living room and stared through the little window on the rear door. A man sat on an ATV next to the Buick.

Where had he taken them?

Bliss wasn't about to let him get away with this.