She'd been held against her will for almost eight days now, pacing the floors in the tiny cell underground. Hunter was better, even though for a while it seemed as if he might not make it, falling into a terrible fever and then contracting pneumonia.
She'd stayed with him, day and night for a while, sleeping on a small pallet she made on the floor near his cot. When his body thrashed with delirium and the heat of the fever, she'd wiped him down with cold water. She cursed Sebastian and his henchmen one moment, prayed to God to save Hunter with the other.
His fever broke yesterday, his cough loosened and the rattle had left his lungs. His swelling disappeared during his illness and she saw what an incredibly handsome man he was.
Rugged would be one word to describe him, with his dark hair and stormy gray eyes framed by thick lashes any woman would covet. His nose was just this side of too big with a tiny bump where it had been broken. A small scar ran across his chin and she made up stories about how he'd received it to pass the time.
Her favorite was playing pirate with the neighborhood kids. He'd be the swashbuckling pirate who raided ships, pillaged and plundered, raped and killed, cutting a wide swath across the seas. His name was a legend, bringing terror to the hearts of all that heard it. He cut himself climbing the rigging, which was an old apple tree in his backyard.
Angel could picture him as a boy, tall and gangly, his hands and feet too big for his body, leaping from limb to limb with ease until his foot slipped, sending him careening into the branches below. She wondered how many stitches it took.
Her finger traced the small scar, her mind elsewhere as she sat next to him. Clyde or Floyd would be down soon to gather her for the daily interrogation from Sebastian. She hated going to that library, watching that smarmy, pretentious bastard as he sat behind his huge desk, usually playing with an ivory and silver letter opener. He would question her relentlessly, badgering her on why wasn't he better? Why was he still unconscious? When would he wake up?
As if she had any of the answers. She sighed.
"That's a big sigh," he said hoarsely. "You okay?"
"You're awake," she said, unnecessarily.
"Yeah, someone was tickling my chin."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Angel felt a blush heat her cheeks. "It's a bad habit I have. When I think, I stroke things." Her face turned even redder when she thought about what she'd just said. "I...I mean..." Her voice trailed off as she shrugged.
"I got it." He chuckled even though it turned into a cough, making his healing ribs hurt like a bad toothache.
Angel gave him a rolled up blanket to hold against his ribs, then held his head while she gave him a sip of water.
"How long have I been out?" he gasped when he got control of himself.
"Six days."
He stared at her as if she were insane, then fell back against the pillow, stunned. "You've been here the entire time?"
"Yeah, but don't let it go to your head, I didn't have anything better to do."
She smiled when he turned to look at her, then sat down the cup of water and went to the table. "Are you hungry?
"I think I could eat," he said.
She retrieved a thermos off the table and brought it to him. "It's vegetable soup, I think," she said, screwing off the top. "I've been giving you a little soup everyday, or as much as I've been able to get into you. You can be a pretty stubborn guy when you want something."
"I've been delirious?"
"Yeah, and screaming at the top of your lungs. I thought I was going to have to tie you to the cot a time or two before your fever finally broke." She didn't tell him about the bruises she had from fighting to keep him down so he wouldn't injure himself more than he was.
"Did I talk?"
She gave him another spoonful of rich, dark broth full of vegetables and pieces of beef. "You kept screaming for someone named Shanna, and talking to your friend Brandon and someone named Cindy. Shanna is your sister, isn't she?"
He nodded, chewing on the vegetables and beef. "She lives out East with her husband. He's about the most pitiful excuse for a man I've ever met, but she had to have him. You might have heard of him, Senator Jackson Clinton."
"Yeah, I've heard of him, he's pretty much a blowhard if what I've read is true." She spooned up more soup.
Hunter watched her lips purse as she blew across the top of the spoon. It sent a funny feeling to his stomach and made his cock twitch. "That's amazing. Most women take one look at his blue eyes and fall at his feet. Not you, huh?"
"He's not my type, too refined, too tidy." She dropped the spoon into the empty thermos and then pushed her hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling now?"
"Full. That was good, thanks." He yawned.
"Good, when you wake, we should try to get you up and walking."
They both heard the sound of the keypad and then the beep it made when it unlocked the door. Angel sat the empty thermos on the floor, scooting it under the cot with her foot, while she made a production of fixing his blanket.
"Boss's waiting," Clyde groused.
He hadn't touched her since that day when Sebastian had taken him into his "toy" room, but there was something in his eyes, something that made a chill shiver through her whenever he looked at her. Just the thought of what he might do to her if he ever got her alone made her ill. Angel knew he blamed her for whatever had happened to him that day even though she hadn't said a word to Sebastian.
Maybe he was right. She didn't know or care. She just didn't want him touching her.
She rose from the bed. Turning to face him was difficult but all he did was wave her towards the door. It was a silent trip as they took the elevator and then the twists and turns to make it to the mansion above. He knocked on the doors, opening them when bid to enter and ushered her in before closing them behind him.
"So, Doctor. Is he awake?"
