Captive Angel Ch. 02

She was in a box, a white box. She felt the panic eat at her and forced herself once more to calm. But when seconds later, she heard the keypad outside punched and the door opened, she felt the compulsion to jump on whoever it was and beg him to take her out of there.

Angel resisted, just barely, though it was easier when she saw Clyde's grinning face.

"Boss wants you," he growled, grabbing her arm and dragging her towards the door.

She managed to look over her shoulder and saw Hunter, his face turned, his one good eye following her as she was pulled away.

Clyde didn't let go of her, instead, his fingers tightened on her arm as he pushed in the code at the elevator. Angel couldn't believe that it was going to be so easy to get the numbers but he punched them in right in front of her. Six, eight, five, three, four, six. She repeated them over and over until she had them memorized.

Clyde dragged her into the elevator and pushed her into the corner as he hit the button on the grungy pad. The doors slid closed, and he turned to look at her. The expression on his ugly face and in his piggish eyes made her shake inside. "I owe you, bitch, for that knee in the groin." He moved toward her, as his eyes roved over her slender form.

"If you don't want another one, I'd suggest you stay away from me," she said. He was going to hurt her, she knew it.

"Big words, doc, for a little lady who's got nowhere to go." He stalked her like she was the mouse to his cat, the look in his eyes telling her he enjoyed the chase and the torture almost as much as he enjoyed the sex.

Her hands came up, pressing against his chest, and her knee rose, bashing into his thigh hard. He grabbed a handful of her silky red hair, dragging her head back even as she tried to punch him.

She screamed in pain as her hand slashed out, slapping his face with as much force as she could muster. "Don't touch me."

It was like slapping a brick wall. He didn't even move. If anything, his eyes glittered more, and his grin grew wider. Then he yanked her against him, ignoring every punch and kick she threw, his thick lips slamming down on hers and making her feel as if she'd vomit.

His tongue was like a rancid worm, wriggling against her lips. His hands, huge and hurtful, pulled at her shirt where she'd tucked it into the waistband of her jeans, searching for the feel of her warm, soft skin against his hand.

Her shrieks of pain, fear and rage were muffled against his mouth, as her hands pushed at his shoulders just slipped off, not causing him to even flinch. Angel tried to bite him and felt her hair yanked back even further, as tears streamed down her cheeks from the pain he caused her.

"Little brother, when you gonna learn to do this stuff when you got time and privacy?"

The sound of the deep voice backed Clyde off a little, but not much. He kept hold of her, turning his head to stare at his older brother. "When you gonna learn not to bug me when I got my mouth full?"

Floyd laughed, reaching out and swatting at his brother. "Come on. Boss sent me down here to find out what was taking you so long. He wouldn't be happy if he found out you were foolin' around with this little darlin'."

"So, who's gonna tell him? You?" Clyde looked about ready to do battle.

"Calm your fool ass down. I ain't telling nobody nothing. Just shag your ass up to the library and get this little one to the boss." He watched as Clyde walked past him, stopping him just as he reached the end of the hallway. "Hey, bro, she as hot as that red hair says?"

"Hotter," Clyde yelled back, laughing as he turned the corner with his captive.

* * * *

Angel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, wishing she dared spit the jerk's foul taste from her mouth. No one had ever treated her this way before. She'd been raised with a gentle hand, and had gone from there to school where she'd done nothing much more than study and work. She hadn't even dated, spending all her free time in the library while in medical school. There had been too much at stake to mess up her chances with boys and parties.

Then came internships and residencies. She was so tired, her butt dragged from the hospital to home for her required two hours of sleep and then back to the hospital. But she'd made it through that hell. Only to land in this one.

It took them no time at all to reach the library where her fussy little captor waited.

Clyde's long stride ate up the ground between the elevator and the double pocket doors, yanking her along so that by the time they got there, she was slightly out of breath. He gave her one last dirty look, putting his hands to his lips and then sliding one across his throat, mimicking a warning that sent a shiver through her before knocking upon the doors.

Sebastian, that was what Hunter had called him. He stood in front of the huge oak desk, a mini tape recorder in his hand as he dictated notes into it, turning it off when they entered the room. "Ah, good, doctor. I trust your patient is resting comfortably and will be up and around in no time, right?"

"He's got a severe concussion, infection and broken ribs. He might even have punctured a rib. I can't take care of him properly in these conditions. You might want to reconsider the hospital." She walked forward, leaving Clyde's side as quickly as she could.

"I also might want to reconsider you as a necessity, doctor. I've told you what would occur if you find you cannot help him. Is this what you want? Have you become enamored with Clyde in the short time you've known him?"

"God, no!" Her hand almost self-consciously scrubbed against her lips. "I loath him."

Sebastian stared from Angel and her swollen and raw looking mouth to Clyde and then back. "Oh, Clyde," he said, shaking his head sadly. "You just couldn't keep your hands off, could you?"

"No, boss, I didn't touch her, honest. Ask her, she'll tell you. I never touched her but to drag her here and back." Clyde's voice was full of panic, his attitude one of terror as he looked at Sebastian.

It was an attitude Angel found confusing but she didn't say anything, instead keeping her eyes locked on the man standing in front of her. He met her eyes, his questioning, but she carefully kept her eyes blank. She was a doctor, and as such, she didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's pain if she could help it.

"Oh, Clyde. It looks as if the doctor doesn't want to back up your story." He sighed.

"Go and call your brother. Tell him I'll need him up here. Then go into the next room and wait for me there. I'm very disappointed in you, Clyde."

Acting like a little boy who'd had his hand caught in the cookie jar, but without being able to taste the cookies, Clyde did as he was told, slinking to the phone and making the call and then going to a row of shelves just to the left side of the fireplace. He pulled out a book, stepping back as the whole case shook, opening to show another room just beyond.

"My home is full of hidden rooms and tunnels, my dear. You never know where one will come out to." He watched, as her face grew pale as she saw the blood spatter across the white walls. She smelled the rank scent of curdled blood from where she stood. "Sorry," Sebastian said. "It's the maid's week off." He chuckled with a slightly embarrassed shrug.

Beside the blood spatter she saw a table, stainless steel, something like an autopsy table, but not like anything she'd ever seen. It had straps at all four corners, thick leather bindings that would have no problem containing someone of Clyde's size, much less Hunter's.

"Yes, your patient spent some time in my little toy room. He was a most unsatisfactory visitor. Despite the blood loss, I could never get him to raise his voice to more than a slight groan." He steepled his fingers, bringing the joined tips to his mouth and tapping them against his lips. "I have plans to remedy that, just as soon as you tell me he's up for more fun and games."

"You want me to heal the man so you can torture him more?" Angel had known all along this was his idea, but now, after meeting Hunter, talking to him, the thought made her sick.

"Unless, perhaps, he'd talk better if I put you on the table?"

There was nothing she could say to that. The idea of being tied to that table, at this man's mercy when she knew deep inside he had none, terrified her.

"Now, there's a pencil and paper on the desk. Please write a list of what you'll need, and I'll send Cl...Floyd to get it. Clyde will probably be unavailable until tomorrow," he said, chuckling at his slip. He watched as she walked past him, fumbling with the pencil before finally holding it in her shaking hands. He saw her glance back into his "toy" room, and watched her blanch as she saw the wall with his whips and daggers hung from it.

She quickly wrote down her needs, underlining those of the most import. Then she handed the list to him and waited.

"Floyd seems to be taking his time." He sighed, looking at his watch. "I really didn't want to start this until you left. You don't seem to be the type, doctor, to enjoy the artistic beauty of a good whip, or the creative genius it takes to provide punishment with no lasting effects."

"I guess I'm just a lover, not a fighter," she grimaced, not wanting to get any closer to that room.

He chuckled. "Well, no matter. I cannot just let you wander alone." He took her arm and felt her stiffen.

Floyd ran into the room, stopping quickly, and his breath came in harsh pants.

"Sorry, boss. I was in the kitchen."

"Eating again, I suppose."

Angel was shocked to see the huge man drop his head, and his face flushed with shame.

"I was hungry, boss."

"You're always hungry," he said, his voice disgusted. "Your brother couldn't keep his hands off my guest as he was told, he'll be spending a little time in the toy room. Now, can I count on you to do as you're told? Deliver her to the cell without molesting or hurting her in anyway."

Floyd nodded even though he craned his head to see his brother standing next to the stainless steel table. "You're not gonna hurt him too bad, are you boss?"

"That's between Clyde and me. Now, as soon as you finish returning her to the cell, come back here and get the list. I'll tell you where to go from there," Sebastian looked over at the hidden room and then back at Floyd. "You'd best hurry unless you want to watch your brother's punishment," he said with a grin.

Floyd grabbed Angel's wrist, dragging her from the room. He never said a word to her, not the entire trip down to the sub-level room Hunter was in, leaving her standing in the center of the cell before she even really knew what happened. She turned in time to catch his back as he walked out of the cell, slamming the door closed securely behind him.

She sat down in the chair almost blindly, shaking so badly she could no longer control her legs. Her situation was grim, worse than grim, actually. She couldn't see a way out of it.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She looked up, amazed to see him sitting, the blanket draped over his lap. He held the now warm cloth she'd left across his cheek, and she saw that the swelling went down a bit.

"I'm just fine considering I've been manhandled more in one day than I have my entire life," she snapped at him. Angel took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaky nerves, ashamed at herself for her outburst. "I'm sorry." She relented, standing and walking toward him. His fever was still up, but he seemed more lucid. "I guess I don't handle being a victim as well as I thought I did."

"I think I'd have blown up a lot quicker than you did. Matter of fact, I think I did." He wanted to reach out to her but he didn't.

"Did he have you in that room?" she asked quietly, sitting next to him.

"His toy room? Yeah." He didn't like to think of that time. It was terrifying, the things that man had done, and the things he threatened to do. He'd prefer the beating

Clyde and Floyd gave him to the sadistic tendencies of Sebastian. "He didn't..." He was afraid to finish the question.

"No, not me." She looked up. "Clyde."

"Good, the prick deserves it." There was a tone of satisfaction to his voice.

Angel decided to change the subject. He didn't want to talk about Sebastian or his little shop of horrors. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he said after taking mental stock.

"Do you think you can eat some of this soup?" she asked, lifting up the thermos.

"That's your lunch," he said, though his stomach rumbled.

"I had a huge breakfast, and I'm not hungry, so...don't argue with me and eat." She unscrewed the cap as the aroma of chicken soup floated to his nose. He accepted the thermos from her, lifting the hot soup to his mouth and gulping it.

"Whoa," she said, taking the thermos from him. "You'll make yourself sick if you eat it like that."

She helped him, carefully feeding him spoonfuls of the steaming soup. Afterwards, she made him lay down to rest. "We have to keep up the pretense that you are unconscious, to give you time to heal."

He took her hand, squinting to see her, even though his eyesight did seem a little better. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, yet. We still have a long way to go until we're out of here."