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dragged his fingers through his hair. “I thought she was dead. My mother thought she was dead. You see Susan went sailing with a girlfriend of hers off Cape Cod one day. They didn’t come home. There was a big search and the boat was found, but neither girl’s body was ever recovered. They were presumed dead.”
    Lilley sat back, silent, looking at Stone.
    “The news devastated my mother. Susan and I were her only children. There is a big age difference. I’m thirty-one years old. She would be nineteen today. My father disappeared years earlier, so I always felt like I was Susan’s protector, especially when she was young. When she was reported missing, my mother took it hard.” Stone paused long enough to take another mouthful of coffee. “I decided to leave the army to be closer to my mother. I went back home and stayed with her for a couple of months, but she never recovered. She never got over the loss of Susan. One morning I found her in the bathtub, fully dressed, her hair and makeup all nicely done – and her wrists slashed. She just couldn’t go on living, I guess.”
    Lilley gasped, a soft little sound that was sympathy, shock, sadness all rolled into one. Stone stared down into his cup for a minute, remembering.
    “Anyhow, I was out of the army, but I got offered work with a private company doing hostage rescue work.”
    “Like the FBI?” Lilley asked in a soft hush.
    Stone shook his head. “No. We specialized in the dirty jobs – the hard ones,” Stone explained grimly. “We got called in to do the rescue work on hostage situations the FBI couldn’t – or wouldn’t handle. A lot of private jobs for wealthy people mainly. The nasty ones.”
    “I see,” Lilley nodded. It explained why and how Stone had been able to take care of the two men back at the diner without breaking into a sweat. “And is that what you do now?”
    “No,” Stone shook his head. “I quit eighteen months ago.”
    “Because…?”
    “Because one day I got a phone call from an old family friend. He was one of Susan’s friends, not mine. I barely knew the guy. When he and Susan had known each other in high school, I was already posted overseas. But he said he knew Susan pretty well. Anyway, he found me. Phoned me one day last year and told me that he had just seen Susan the night before at a BDSM club in Washington. She was wearing a collar and leash, being led by an older man. A big man, like she was his slave, or submissive.”
    Lilley’s eyes grew wide.
    Stone nodded, noticing her reaction. “That’s how I felt,” he said. “Suddenly the sister I had mourned as dead for two years had been seen alive in a BDSM club.”
    “What did you do?” Lilley leaned forward suddenly, and without consciously realizing it, her fingers reached out and touched Stone’s hand. The shock of the contact spread through his body like ripples on a calm lake.
    “I quit my work with hostage rescue the next day,” he said. “And I wen t to Washington to look for my sister. I’ve been looking ever since.”
    Lilley shook her head. “You didn’t find her in Washington?”
    “No. But I started to dig. I started to discover and hear whispers about a whole underground network of people trafficking. Young women disappearing from around the country, who are kidnapped, brainwashed and trained as submissive sex slaves for wealthy men. So I immersed myself in the world of BDSM. And I met a lot of good people. I learned how to dominate a woman who wants to submit to a Master. I learned about punishment, discipline, bondage, and more. I learned what women want. I learned how to give women what they need. I learned how to control a woman and train her into submission. And that helped me understand the men who buy these girls.”
    Lilley looked shocked. “You live the BDSM lifestyle as a Master?”
    “Yes,” Stone nodded, and then his eyes became dark again with the force of his intensity. “I learned a long time ago, Lilley, the best way