Captive Angel Ch 04

Angel jerked hearing Clyde's awful voice. Her face flamed red as she thought of what he'd seen and how she'd acted. He'd taken something good and pleasurable and made her embarrassed and ashamed of what she'd done. She didn't think she could hate him any more than she did now.

"Come on, Doc. I ain't got all day. Get your fine ass out of that bed and put on those pretty, little red panties I see sitting over there."

Hunter started to rise, but Angel pushed him back when she heard the distinctive ratcheting sound of a nine-millimeter pistol being cocked. "Don't. He has a gun."

"But..."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, rising from her side of the cot and stepping naked over to her panties. She picked them up, put her feet into the leg holes and quickly pulled them over her body.

"Now that's a pretty site. A redhead with red fur in red panties. Floyd, he's a sucker for red. I have a feeling you and my brother are going to be getting real close."

Clyde laughed, rubbing at the bulge in the front of his pants. "Now the jeans, Missy. Pull 'em on slow. I wanna watch your boobs shake and jiggle."

She grabbed her jeans, going to sit down on the edge of a chair, but stopped when he motioned with the gun. "Oh no, I wanna watch you jump around."

"Angel?" Hunter growled, his voice harsh.

Clyde glanced and saw him sitting up, the blanket wrapped around his waist, and his eyes fixed on Clyde. There was a look in those eyes, the look of a predator spotting his prey and waiting for the right moment to pounce. It shook Clyde a little, even though he'd never been afraid of the man before. "If you don't want to eat some lead, you'll sit there and be quiet. I can't kill you, boss's orders, but I sure as hell can make you more than miserable."

"I'm fine, Hunter. Please, don't do anything." She slipped one long leg, still clad in the white socks, into one leg of the jeans before gracefully doing the same with the other. Wriggling the semi-tight fabric up her body caused her breasts to sway and she heard Clyde's sadistic giggle. She didn't need to see him to know he watched her, his eyes avidly glued to her breasts.

It was a huge relief to pull her jeans up and button and zip them. Then she stood, waiting for his next order, trying to keep a look of boredom on her face, even though she knew her skin was flushed bright red.

"Well, lookee there, she's just standing there letting me admire them wonderful tits of hers. Makes a body think she might want me to do even more." He laughed as Angel rushed to grab her shirt, wrestling her bra out of the mass of tangled fabric and putting it on quickly. Then she slid her tee shirt on, smoothing her hair out from under the collar before finding her shoes.

She refused to look at either man while she sat and tied her shoes, instead concentrating on the task at hand and trying to keep her hands from shaking too badly. When she finished, she stood, staring at her hands, waiting for Clyde to move.

"Touch her, and I'll kill you," Hunter said, catching Clyde's gaze with his. "I mean it, you ignorant bastard. If you lay one of your mangy paws on her, I'll tear it off and kill you with it."

"Then maybe I should kill you now," Clyde said, leveling the gun towards Hunter.

"No!" Angel jumped in front of Clyde, holding her hands out. "You can't kill him. Remember? The boss wants him alive."

It was a tense moment, but Clyde lowered the gun, grabbing Angel by the arm and hauling her out of the room. He slammed the door behind them before half dragging her toward the elevator. The ride up the four floors was long and quiet, Angel terrified to move. She didn't want to bring notice to herself. When they left the elevator, Clyde's strides were long forcing Angel to almost run to keep up and not be dragged down the hallway.

He pounded on the pocket doors, not waiting for the call to enter, threw them open and threw her inside. She landed sprawled on the Oriental carpet, her hair covering her face.

"What's the meaning of this?" Sebastian jumped to his feet behind the desk.

"He's awake. Has been for a while. I caught them fucking, boss. The son of a bitch was slammin' it to her like there weren't no tomorrow." Clyde's voice was rough with frustrated rage. "Can I kill him now?"

"No." Sebastian marched from behind his desk to stand over her. He reached down and held out his hand to help her up.

Angel took it, knowing she had no choice. She'd rather spit in it, but then she was sure he'd have some other nefarious way of getting her off the floor. She would take dignity over pain any day.

"Is this true, my dear? Have you been harboring this fugitive, knowing he was awake and had the information I need, the information that would send both of you home?"

He led her to the two wing-back chairs seated on the other side of his desk, closer to the fire, letting her sit in one of the red leather seats. "I can't believe you would have so little loyalty as to make such a choice."

"Believe it," she said slowly. "You had an innocent man beaten half to death for some reason only you know, and I'm supposed to feel loyal to you? Did he kill someone?

Did he, I don't know, blow up some government building or take somebody hostage? Or is this just a simple matter of him having something and you wanting it? Which is it, Sebastian?"

"He told you my name, also. I should've known better than to let you stay quartered down there with him." He sighed and then clapped his hands together. "But no matter. Clyde, get Floyd and get our other guest some of the clothes we procured for him. Then bring him here. Do not hurt him. Do you understand? He's to remain unharmed for right now."

"Oh, so now comes the torture," Angel said. Her voice rose as she felt panic set in. "Are you planning on pulling out my nails or raking hot coals over the bottom of my feet? Maybe you're going to stick needles into me. Is that it?"

Sebastian looked up from his desk, pulling out the center drawer. Angel caught a glimpse inside as he pulled out his pistol, checked the load before he slammed the magazine into place. He smiled at Angel's words, enjoying the slight flavor of her hysteria. "Yes," he said simply.

Angel moaned silently. Why did she have to open her big mouth? She flexed her fingers feeling her fingernails already experiencing twinges of pain just at the thought. Damn, she wanted to upset him, but all she did was amuse him.

He slid the pistol into his jacket pocket, frowning at the way it pulled the material to one side and ruined the line of the coat. "Sacrifices must be made," he said quietly, even though Angel heard him. He walked toward her, smiling genially like any host for a guest.

"I'd offer you coffee or the like, but I dislike vomit. I have a feeling pain would cause you to...well, I'll assume you know what I mean. Shall I tell you a tale, while we wait for your lover?" He settled himself next to her, still pulling fussily at the line of his jacket.

"I'd rather you walk out into busy traffic, Sebastian, but I doubt you'll grant me that enjoyment," she muttered angrily.

"Oh, tisk tisk, dear girl. There's no reason to take that tone, honestly. This is in no way personal. I'm sorry if you feel it is. It's a means to an end, just as my father always told me. That's him," he said, nodding to the portrait of a tall, strong looking man above the fireplace.

Angel stared at the portrait, noting the broad shoulders and the way he held them back stiffly, the erect posture and military style haircut. "I bet you disappointed him immensely," she said, a touch of humor in her voice.

"Oh, yes, very good, dear girl. Very good indeed. I did disappoint him. I was born premature, you see. It caused breathing problems and other sorts of congenital things, very nasty, that I had to endure during childhood. But father, he wasn't one for excuses or complaints. If you were given an order, you were a good soldier and did as you were told, no matter what the order entailed."

"Sounds warm and cuddly," Angel hissed sarcastically. She jerked back, and her hand rose to her cheek, as Sebastian suddenly slapped her. It was more of a warning than a hit, but she back into the chair.

"There's no need for rudeness, girl. My father always said, never lose your cool or your control under attack, and you'll always win." He cocked his head to the side, as a funny smile slowly spreading across his face. "It's true. He didn't lose his control or his cool, not even when I killed him."

"You killed your own father?" she asked, horrified.

"Oh yes, it was one of my finest days. I turned on him when he was beating me. I took the whip right out of his hand," he said, smiling at the memory. "The first slash I gave him blinded him otherwise I might not have been able to manage it the way I did."

"You beat your father to death with a whip?" she whispered, suddenly more afraid than she'd ever been before in her life.

"It was poetic justice actually. The man had been slowly whipping me to death for years." He sat forward, listening. "I do believe your lover is almost here. Please, my dear, let's keep what I've told you between us. Others might not be as understanding," he said, patting her hand in her lap. Then he rose, facing the door as a light rap sounded.

"Do come in, Aaron. Please, I've so missed our chats."

"Aaron?" Angel whispered, confused.

The door opened and Hunter was brought in between Clyde and Floyd. There were shackles on his hands and his feet were bare. He wore jeans that fit as if made for him and a western style shirt with mother of pearl snaps up the front of the lightweight plaid. He walked steadily, his head high. His eyes searched for and found her the instant he entered the room.

She tried to smile, to reassure him she was all right but she couldn't. Her stomach was in knots, and fear made her heart race and her breathing quicken. She wanted to be anywhere else right now, anywhere. No, that wasn't quite true. She wanted to be somewhere safe, wrapped in Hunter's arms.

"She's beautiful, Aaron, I should've known you wouldn't keep your hands off her." He walked forward, and circled the man who now stood by himself. Clyde and Floyd stood like sentinels next to the door. "You look healthy enough. I knew the good doctor was the right choice."

"Now that I'm able to take your torture, you can let her go. She did what you wanted. Send her back to her life so she can forget about you and this place," he growled.

"Why would I want to do that, when she seems to mean so much to you? Have you fallen for her soft, seductive charms, Aaron?" Sebastian turned, walked to the bookcase and pulled on the book that shifted the whole case, opening up the hidden room.

"I don't care about her, Sebastian. She's nothing more than a simple piece of ass to me. What did you think I'd do when you've had me here for almost two months and put a fine piece like her with me? Of course I had to fuck her. But that's all it was, a fuck." He sounded almost bored.

Angel felt his every word like a blow to her heart. She was nothing more than a fuck to him? He wouldn't even look at her now. He kept his gaze upon Sebastian as the man slowly pulled the hidden doorway open further, exposing the room even further to Angel's horrified gaze.

Whips hung coiled from hooks embedded in the walls, stainless steal cabinets held other devices, the few she saw she didn't want to understand what they did. The strong fluorescent lighting shone against the bright steel and made it sparkle, gilding the rest of the room with a bright white that made it almost surreal.

For a moment, Angel waited for the comical buxom blonde bimbo in the tight nurse's uniform, red bra showing under the open front of the bodice to wiggle her way forward on five-inch stiletto heels and call Sebastian, 'doctor'. It had to be all some psychotic sort of joke. People didn't do things like this to each other, did they?

But she knew the truth, she'd seen it in her job at the hospital. The daily horrifying actions of people against people never seemed to end. There never seemed to be a lack of imagination as to how they hurt each other either. And now...

"Clyde, hang on to Aaron while Floyd proves him a liar. Floyd, take the good doctor

into the "toy" room and get her ready for the table." Sebastian held his hands up and

Angel could've sworn he wanted to rub them with childish glee.

"You won't get away with this," she said to him, rising and pulling her arm out of

Floyd's grasp to walk proudly in front of him.

"Why do they always say that?" Sebastian asked, looking over at Hunter. "I just don't understand it. I've gotten away with it for this long, why shouldn't I continue?

Besides, dear girl, money covers a whole bevy of sins. If you have it and aren't afraid to use it when necessary, you can pretty much get away with everything." He laughed, staring at the haughty look on her face.

"But what about your soul, Sebastian? What about the stains on your soul?" she asked him even as she walked in front of Floyd.

"Oh, theology bores me to tears, doctor. I'm surprised a woman of your confidence and intelligence should even consider that there's a God. You've seen the worst of mankind, and you believe some divine being created us in his image?" Sebastian laughed, enjoying Angel's spirit. It would be a shame to break something as fine and delicate as this woman, but he would if he had to...

"I've also seen the miracle of birth and watched the face of someone right as their spirit leaves their body," she said. "There can be a look of such peace, almost of happiness about them at that moment." Floyd stopped her next to the table, turning her to face him. She looked up into his doughy face, amazed to see a hint of sympathy in the miserable brown of his eyes.

"Then perhaps you should pray to the God you believe in so much, dear one, and ask him to help Aaron remember where he put those journals." Sebastian walked around the two men, his hands tented, and his fingers pressed against his lips as he stared down at the floor. "Aaron, if you don't remember, things are bound to get a bit messy in here in the next few moments. Have you ever heard a woman scream as you break her fingers? Especially a woman with fingers as delicate and fine-boned as the good doctor's. She uses those hands everyday to treat the innocent. Are you going to allow a monster like me to take away all those years of school and the drive to do good deeds that is so innate in her?"

Floyd reached for the front of her tee shirt, pulling it roughly out of her pants and trying to pull it over her head. Angel resisted, keeping her arms down. "Come on, doc, if you don't raise your arms, I'll just rip it off of you. Clyde likes to see the clothes ripped off of women, it's one of his turn-ons."

Angel gazed at Clyde, seeing him lick his thick, fleshy lips. She shuddered, about ready to comply when she noted his hand on Hunter's arm. His grip was loose, and his attention directed on her. If she could keep his attention on her, maybe...

"Fuck you," she hissed, spitting in the man's face.

Floyd growled, low in his throat, grabbing hold of the front of her shirt and yanking. It was strong cotton, and it dug into her flesh, refusing to give. He grabbed hold of the neckline, digging his fingers cruelly into her soft skin in the process, yanking again.

When it once more refused to give under his pressure, he pulled a huge knife out of a sheath he had concealed under his jacket, with a flip of his fingers, the tip dug into the edge of her neckline, and the blade sliced all the way down, exposing her breasts still in their white cotton cups.

Clyde groaned as Floyd stripped the remnants of the tee shirt from her, easily pulling it from her even as she resisted. Sneaking a peek over her shoulder, she watched as Clyde's eyes roamed over her skin as they had earlier, the look in them even more scorching as he watched his brother tear at her clothing. She also saw Hunter's eyes on Clyde, waiting until Sebastian was just in the right place and then...

He wheeled out of Clyde's grasp, easily since the man had been so enthralled by the show in front of him, and pushed Sebastian hard enough the man cracked his head on the shelf that hid the room from view. He fell to the ground, stunned.

Hunter twisted, using the manacles clasped in his hands and spun on Clyde, striking him as hard as he could with the metal across the bridge of his nose.

"Get down," he shouted at Angel. She'd already ducked back, out of Floyd's reach. She almost felt sorry for the poor man. Without someone telling him what to do, he stared at her, and then at his boss on the floor before looking finally to where his brother knelt on the ground, holding his hands against his broken nose as blood poured through to stain that damn Oriental carpet Angel hated so much.

Hunter spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to Clyde's face. Angel couldn't help but be fascinated by how he fell, like a huge redwood tree, hitting the ground with an earthshaking thud.

"Clyde has the keys," Hunter told Angel, smiling at her as he prepared to take on an enraged Floyd. "See if you can find them?"

She just stared at him for a moment, watching as he flexed his legs, rolling his head on his shoulders before crouching, his hands in front of him. Keanu Reeves had nothing on him as he flexed his hands, smiling at Floyd who stood near his brother.

His face turned purple before he thundered toward Hunter. His arms stretched out, and his head lowered like a bull charging a red cape. He zeroed in on Hunter, bellowing his fury.

Hunter stood there, waiting. He appeared to be almost relaxed though his eyes were ever watchful. When Floyd's arms circled around to swoop him into them, determined to break his back, Hunter moved almost faster than Angel could see, sliding behind the man, his arm grabbing his neck.

He used the chain from the manacles, and the metal gouged into Floyd's neck. His face turned from purple to bright red, as he was deprived oxygen. Floyd fought, jerking his body, trying to reach around with his huge arms and grab the man who hung onto his back with such tenacity.

Suddenly, Floyd dropped to his knees, and his head falling forward, throwing Hunter forcibly from his back to the floor. Hunter rolled, but hit hard against one of the stainless steal cases. He gasped, going pale from the pain to his ribs before stumbling to his feet. His plan had been to take them down quick and hard and not get hit. He knew what one blow of those ham-like fists felt like, having been the recipient of many not-so-loving taps. He didn't want any more.

Angel scurried from under the table where she hid, rushing past Floyd who tried to rise and hurried over to Clyde's prone form. Rolling his dead weight was impossible, so she pushed him enough to get her hand into his pockets, searching for the keys to the manacles.

The sound of skin meeting skin caught her attention, and she looked up in time to duck as Hunter fell past her. His body rolled against the sofa. He lay there a second groaning, meeting her eyes before climbing to his feet. "Find them?" he asked as he ran passed her.

"Not yet," she said, her arm trapped under the behemoth passed out on the floor.

"Find them," he said, ducking Floyd's punch and throwing in a couple of his own. He danced around the huge man who lunged this way and that as he tried to grab him.

Pulling his jacket pocket out, she dug around inside, finally finding the small key ring that she'd seen him use before. "I got them," she said, holding them up triumphantly. "Do you want them?" she yelled over at him where he was ducking and weaving.

Floyd heaved a small cabinet from the wall, throwing it at him, glass shattering all over the floor where they were fighting.