Captive Angel Ch. 03

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?"

"No, I'm sorry to say. He hasn't come out of the coma as of yet. His fever is down..."

"Do I need to find another doctor?"

"What?" Angel knew he wouldn't be happy with what she said, but she wasn't going to back down.

"To make him well, doctor. Do I need to find another doctor? One who will do the job for me? You know what happens to you if you become an unnecessary burden? I can assure you, Clyde's itching to get to know you better." He glanced at his henchman as he spoke.

Angel refused to glance at the man, into his eyes. "I guess it doesn't mean much either way, for I doubt you'll release me when he's finally better." She glared at Sebastian, her gaze defiant.

"It has to be the red hair," Sebastian said, rising from behind the desk. He shook his head sadly as he walked toward her. "Doctor, I gave you my word I'd return you to that parking lot. You doubt my word?"

"Let me think," she said sarcastically. "Should I doubt the word of a man who had another man beaten almost to death? What do you think?"

His hand slashed toward her, striking her cheek hard enough her head spun before she hit the ground on her knees. Her hand rose, cupping the burning flesh of her cheek as she heard Clyde's chuckle from behind her. In her mind, she kicked out, striking his kneecap with enough force to break it, and sending him to his knees.

But that wasn't her, she'd never struck someone in anger or in retaliation in her life. She only sat on the floor, staring at Sebastian through her tangled red hair, wishing she could spit the blood in her mouth out on his immaculate Oriental rug.

"I wouldn't have to do things like that if you wouldn't let your mouth run away with you, Angelina."

It sounded strange, hearing her name come from his lips. It sounded too familiar to her, and it gave her the creeps.

"Now apologize for those harsh words and we can move forward and forget all about this altercation." He stood in front of her, his legs slightly parted and his hands in his pants pockets.

Angel swallowed the metallic tasting blood in her mouth. "I'm sorry if I was rude," she managed to mutter, even though her tone said anything but.

Sebastian sighed. He held out his hand to help her up but she ignored it, managing to get up on her own steam. "Now, that wasn't so difficult was it?"

"No," she snarled, sending him a bloody smile. "It wasn't difficult at all."

"The end of the week, doctor, and I want him hale and hearty. No longer. If he isn't awake by the end of the week, you'll take his place on the table." He laughed when she visibly flinched at his words. "Never fear, doctor, I'm sure you could survive a visit to my table. I just don't think you would leave with all of that creamy skin still intact."

"You're despicable," she hissed, turning to go to the door, not waiting for him to dismiss her.

"I think I'd start with your hands. Aren't doctor's terrified something will happen to their hands?"

"That's surgeons. I practice emergency care medicine." She wanted to slap herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She wasn't going to respond to anymore of his taunts, for it fed him, made him stronger to know she feared him.

"Then perhaps your eyes, doctor. Either way, we'll know by the end of the week. Mark my words. I want him awake."

She threw open the pocket doors, not waiting for Clyde. Turning to the right, she headed toward the small bedroom she still used for showers and to change her clothes. She hadn't gone very far when Clyde showed up, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.

He reached out with one massive hand, his touch almost gentle as he wiped at the trail of blood heading down to her chin. Staring at the red smear on his thumb, he brought it to his lips, licking it off and moaning at the taste.

"I love the taste of your blood, doc. It's so sweet. After Friday, if you're lucky, I might be taking a bath in the stuff. If you're not, Floyd and I are sure to make you bleed more. I'm going to fuck your cunt, doc, so hard you'll be screaming. And when you think you can't take any more, I'll hold you still while Floyd fills your ass. My little brother, well he ain't so little in one department if you catch my drift."

"Let go of me," she hissed, recoiling not only from his touch but also from his words. "Don't touch me again, or should I tell that exalted boss of yours you haven't learned your lesson yet?" She watched as he flinched back, dropping her arm as if it were red hot.

"I'll make you pay for that, bitch. For every second I was in that room, you'll pay twice."

"I have no doubt of that, Clyde," she said tiredly. "But until that time, keep your fucking hands off me."

She stomped to her room, not stopping until she was in the bathroom, the door closed behind her. She turned on the water, cast off her bloody clothes, not bothering to pick them up from the floor like she usually did, and stepped under the hot, stinging water.

For a moment she stood there, staring at the wall as the water flowed over her head, turning her deep red hair black against her pale skin. Then she slid down the wall at her back, sitting on the floor of the shower, sobs she'd held in ever since she woke in that dark, fetid coffin bursting from between her lips. They wracked her body and she covered her mouth because on the heels of the sobs came her screams. Of pain, of terror, of helplessness, she muffled them even though she couldn't stop them from erupting anymore than she could have prevented the next minute from coming.

She was curled up on the floor of the tub, her arm wrapped around her knees, and her hand still covering her mouth when she finally calmed. Sitting up, she pushed her hair out of her face and stared at the frosted glass door of the shower.

It all came down to one fact, she didn't want to die. Not here, not at the hands of these maniacs, not for a long damn time. It was Monday; she had four more days before he was coming for her.

Angel finished her shower, quickly now because she knew someone would bring her in a tray of food and then Clyde would return to take her back to the cell. She didn't want to be naked when he walked into the room.

Dressed, her hair brushed, she finished her coffee, staring at the door and waiting for it to open. Clyde never knocked. Floyd did, and treated her with much more respect than Clyde even though he did have an annoying habit of staring at her ass.

When the knock came, she was almost giddy from relief. She didn't want another run in with Clyde today, not while her lip was still swollen, her cheek bruised. After losing control in the bathroom, she felt a little stronger, but she still didn't want any more conflict. Not today.

Floyd delivered her in one piece to the cell, leaving her with an ancient, torn up paperback to read. As soon as he was out of the room, Hunter's eyes sprang open and stared at her.

"What did he say?" he asked, watching her with his stormy gray eyes that seemed to see everything.

"We have until Friday." She walked to the table and sat in one of the chairs there, keeping her face turned so he didn't see the bruise or the cut on her swollen mouth.

"What happens on Friday if I'm not awake?"

"I take your place," she almost whispered, closing her eyes as her fears tried to rush at her again.

"That ain't happening, doc, so don't worry about it. I won't let them hurt you like that." He sat up, his head spinning for a second before righting itself.

She glanced his way, seeing him sitting there, as weak as a baby. It made her laugh. "Yeah, tough guy, I can see you're up to the task of taking on Clyde and Floyd, not to mention the hundreds of others Sebastian must employ to keep this place going."

"It's not always about brawn, Angel. Sometimes brains can count for a lot more than brute force." He stood, wrapping the blanket sarong style around his waist. His first step was wobbly and weak, but he forced himself to continue until he walked two circuits of the small room.

Angel tried to help him, but he held her off. "You shouldn't be up," she said, forgetting about her face.

Hunter turned to argue with her but the words died when he saw the mark on her face beginning to bruise. It ended at her soft mouth, her pretty lip split from the blow. "Who did this to you?" He lifted his hand, and his thumb gently stroked her soft lips, before cupping her chin to turn her head more to the light to give him a better look.

"It's nothing. It's what I get for being mouthy. My mom always said that one day I'd say something smart when I should have kept my mouth shut and I'd learn." She didn't pull away from him, even though a part of her enjoyed the way his hand felt against her skin.

"Big mouth or not, it's no reason to hit a woman." His fingertips touched her hair and he picked up a lock, letting the fiery strand sift through his hand like cool satin. It was hard to understand how something so bright and gleaming with flame-colored highlights was so cool to the touch.

Angel stood under his touch, letting him play with her hair and stroke her face. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her. She couldn't have pulled away from him if she'd had to. He was so tall, and despite his illness, so strong, she wanted to lean against him and let him take some of the burden off her shoulders.

"Does it hurt?" His gray eyes roamed over her heart-shaped face.

"A little," she admitted, and then gasped as he bent to her, his lips touching the small wound before moving to her cheek and leaving a tiny kiss there. It felt as if a butterfly wing had touched her cheek, so soft and gentle.

"To make you feel better," he said, grinning. "Though I don't know how much faith a big city doctor will put on that, but I found it always worked for me."

"Somebody kisses you to make you better?"

"My momma always did when we were growing up. Dillon and I were big kids and always getting into some kind of mischief. Momma bought out the store when it came to band-aids and popsicles. We'd get into a scrape and she'd slap on a band-aid and a kiss and send us on our way." He smiled, his grin crooked as he thought back to the easy days of innocence.

"Where is she now?" Angel asked, enthralled despite herself.

"She and my father were killed in a cave-in. They were spelunkers. Dad loved to explore old caves and search for hidden treasures. Momma loved being with dad so she grew to love the caves."

"I'm so sorry," she said, feeling his hand settling against her arm, sliding down toward her hand.

"I'm sorry I've been such an ass to you, Angel. It's my fault you're in this mess to begin with. If I only knew what he wants." He pulled his hand from her arm, putting it to his own head. "Whoa, dizzy."

She grabbed him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to help him the few steps to the bed. Sitting him down had her sitting as well. She lifted his arm over her head, careful of his ribs and then pushed his head down between his legs. "Deep, slow breaths," she ordered him, reaching for his wrist.

His pulse was steady, strong, thumping against her fingers. His hair was soft under her fingers as she held his head. She felt a sudden urge to smooth her palm down his back, to see how his skin would feel. She'd stroked him when he was sick, taken care of his basic needs, knew his body intimately, but yet, she'd never felt like this.

When he pushed back against her hand, she let him sit up, seeing him holding his side. "You don't want to do too much, Hunter. You just woke up this morning."

"And we only have until, what, Friday? Then either you or I will be center stage, Angel. It won't be you."

She stood and reached down, swinging his legs onto the cot. With a groan,

he laid back against the pillow she'd managed to get for him, his face covered in sweat. Going to the sink, she wet a cloth in cold, clean water, coming back to use it against his cheeks.

"That feels fantastic, Angel." He frowned. "I think I remember you doing this before."

She smiled, letting her hand slip across his forehead to check his temperature.

"So, Mom, how am I? Can I go to school today?"

"Ha ha, funny, smart guy. Yes, I think it's down. I was really worried about you for a couple of days. I didn't know if you'd make it."

"You mean you were worried for yourself and what Sebastian's goons have in mind for you," he said, turning his head away from her.

"No, I said what I meant. You're my patient, my responsibility, and my trust. I don't want you to die, Hunter, not because of what will happen to me, but because you're another human being in the prime of your life. I've seen too many of those mowed down before their time." She pushed his shaggy hair off his forehead where it fell into his eyes. "Being an ER doc does have its bad moments you know."

"I find it hard to believe you weren't concerned what would happen to you if I died?" Hunter didn't know why he was stressing this point, but he was.

She stood, after laying the cloth across his forehead. "Believe what you wish, Hunter. I'm not going to try to convince you of my good intentions." She picked up the book Floyd had given her, noting that the front cover was torn off. Sitting down in one of the plastic chairs, she tried to get comfortable and settled down to read.

She was only a few pages into the book when she realized what it was. She dropped it on the floor in disgust.

"What?" Hunter watched her from where he laid.

"That is sick," she said, pointing at the book. "Now I know why he gave it to me. He wants me to know what they plan to do to me."

Hunter reached for the book, opening it to the page she dumped it on. "...a horrid stench rose from her skin where the brand was applied. Oh, shit, Angel."

"Yeah, oh shit is right. What you read was the tame part," she said, rubbing her face with her hands. "You didn't get to the part where they pierced her nipples."