Captive Angel
Heaven in Her Eyes
Key to her Heart
A Case of Love
The Gentle Highwayman
Unusual Circumstances
Beyond the Call of Duty
Alpha Bravo Team
Enjoy!!!
Chapter One
Where was she?
Angelina Carter blinked her eyes, feeling as if she’d gone blind. It was pitch black, wherever she was. She lifted her hand in front of her eyes, waving it in front of her face. It was so dark; she couldn’t even see her hand though she could feel the slight breeze it created against her cheeks in the fetid air surrounding her.
Putting out her hand, she was amazed to find something solid swathed in fabric only a few inches above her face. Following the satiny soft material she found, she felt where it met another hard surface about six inches above her head. Putting her hands out had her knowing she was completely enclosed, as did kicking her feet against the bottom of the box she was in.
She felt panic try to sweep over her and a swelling of claustrophobic fear so fierce, to give in to it would paralyze her. Turning her head as if she could see her prison, she could feel a satiny pillow under her cheek, the sweat on her face soaking into the fabric.
Then it hit her. The wooden sides, the soft cushioned padding, the satiny pillow under head, she was in a coffin. Oh God, had someone buried her alive?
Screams pushed at her lips wanting to come out, her body longed to fight, to kick out at the confining wood, to find some way to break out of this trap, but she refused to panic. She was a doctor, an emergency room doctor; she was used to intense situations. She just had to think, she could find her way out.
Struggling against the rising panic, she thought back. She could remember being at the hospital. It had been a long day, a double shift for her and she was dog tired, wanting nothing more than to go home, shower, grab a bowl of soup and find her bed, in that order. She had walked out of the ten story hospital building, crossing the brightly lit parking lot while fumbling in her purse for her keys.
Her car was in the doctor’s lot, not far from the main doors of the hospital. A security car patrolled all the lots, twenty-four hours a day since a nurse had been raped a few years back. The lot was as safe as standing in her own driveway, probably even safer.
She’d gone to her car, not even paying attention to the cars around her. She was in the doctor’s lot. A doctor’s pass was needed to be allowed to park in here. No one could get in without the pass unless they wanted their tires punctured.
So what had happened? She’d gone to her car, she remembered setting her purse on the car hood, scrounging through all the assorted necessities that she carried in it, searching for her elusive keys. Had that been it? She had a foggy memory of a huge hand covered with a white cloth coming from behind her.
She’d been drugged!
Had they drugged her only to put her in a casket and bury her? That made no sense. It’s not as if she had anyone willing to pay a ransom for her. She was nothing but an ER doc who made medium sized bucks that helped to pay off the last of her mother’s hospital bills.
She was alone; her mother had succumbed to cervical cancer two years before. Rosalie, her mother, had been 17 when she’d found herself pregnant, the father unwilling to take responsibility, left her to tell her family alone.
They’d kicked her out, wanting nothing to do with such a wicked and evil girl, nor the child she carried within her. But Rosalie wanted that baby. She’d wanted her with a determination that had her finding a job, getting a place to live and taking care of herself and her unborn child. When her pregnancy grew noticeable, she bought a cheap gold band and invented a deceased husband. Her child would not be born with the stigma of being called a bastard, not if she could do anything about it.
Angel, as her mother called her, had been born two weeks early, coming on a windy, rainy Saturday afternoon. Her hair had been curled in tight little wet ringlets around her head, her face wrinkled and her eyes squinched shut as the doctor had held her up in his arms to show the new mother. Rosa had taken one look and had fallen in love.
She’d worked hard to give her daughter, her Angel, everything she needed and some of the things she’d wanted, having sometimes three jobs that she would run from, Angel in tow when necessary. When Angel had gone to school, her mother had worked as a waitress. Angel used to do her homework in a corner booth, waiting for her mother to get off of her shift.
But the three jobs and the amount of studying had paid her way through medical school, well, most of the way. She’d had to work also, especially when Rosa had gotten ill. Then there had been the round of hospital visits and chemo, treatments and rehab. But Rosa had refused to let Angel give up her dream of being a doctor, insisting that she could manage on her own or with the help of old Mr. Templeton, their landlord.
She’d fought the cancer, even as it ate away at her, day after day, she’d fought it. She’d beaten the odds the doctors had given her, managing to stay healthy enough to watch her daughter graduate and start her career. But it hadn’t been long after that before she’d gotten too sick to stay alone anymore.
Three months after that, Rosa was dead. The only family Angelina had was gone. The woman who’d been her inspiration and her strength had died a painful, messy death.
Then there had been hospital bills and college loans to pay back, eating at every bit of the money that Angel could pull in. She was just, finally, able to put a little away. How could anyone ransom her?
Her stomach roiled at the heat of the enclosed place, sweat trickled down off her forehead and pooled to soak into the satin under her, making her even warmer. What she wouldn’t give for a breeze of fresh, clean, cool air.
There was a thump from outside the casket, startling Angel. She pressed her ear against the side of the coffin, trying desperately to ignore the nausea that boiled gleefully in her stomach. She heard it again, clearer. It sounded as if someone were slamming doors.
Heavy footsteps sounded, much too close for Angel’s comfort and she managed to scoot to the middle of the coffin, closing her eyes lightly and trying to deepen her breathing as if she were still unconscious.
The coffin moved a bit, there was the sound of metal against metal and then Angel felt the wonder of fresh air touching her cheeks as whoever it was lifted the lid over her head and chest. She didn’t move, barely restraining the flinch as bright light blasted into the small space, hurting her eyes even through the lids.
She could feel eyes upon her, gazing at her as she lay there. She knew the scrubs she wore were soaked with sweat, clinging to her body and felt a thrill of fear. Would she be raped? Were they going to kill her?
“Nice tryin’, Doc, but I heard you banging around in here earlier,” a voice said, well above her head. It was a deep voice with a hint of a southern accent, and maybe a touch of redneck as well.
Angel didn’t move, not willing to quit playing possum so soon. But her eyes flew open and she scrabbled away as she felt a big palm suddenly grab her breast, squeezing the plump mound harshly.
“Ha!” he laughed. “I knew you was awake.”
Angel stared up at the man who loomed above her. He was huge, his shoulders so wide that they almost looked unnatural. He wore a suit that stretched at the seams, the shirt unbuttoned around his huge neck. His face was the stuff of nightmares, scarred across one cheek that had severed the muscles, causing one side of his face to seem as if it were sliding off his head.
His eyes were tiny, piggish and a dull brown, but they gleamed with humor as he stared at her.
“Come on, doc. The boss is real impatient and he wants to talk to you.” He reached out with one huge, beefy hand and grabbed her arm, almost yanking it out of its socket as he dragged her over the edge of the coffin, letting her feet drop to the ground.
She swayed, his hand the only thing that held her upright, her stomach flopping at the suddenness of the move. Her hand went to her mouth and she breathed deeply through her nose trying to stop the waves of nausea that made her feel as if she would vomit.
“It’s the drug, doc. I had to give you lots of it cuz you were a fighter. You’ll be okay in a bit. But the boss, he ain’t gonna want to wait for you.” He turned her towards the door, half walking, half dragging her towards the exit of the room before she ever got a chance to see it.
She was left with the impression of white walls and a huge sink, the big oak coffin she’d been in was lying in the center of the room on a rolling cart. Then she was pulled through a plain wooden door and into a hallway that seemed almost sterile. White linoleum lined the floors, white paint on the walls, no paintings or pictures or even windows to be seen.
He took her through another door, Angel finally finding her feet so that she could walk beside him instead of being dragged. It didn’t change the way he gripped her arm though, and she knew she’d have some pretty bruises when he finally let go. She didn’t have much of a chance to look around for quicker than she was ready; her captor was pulling her to a stop in front of a set of double pocket doors made of heavy oak.
He dropped her arm, tugging down on his jacket as if worried about how he would look. Slicking down a lock of unruly, wiry brown hair, he grabbed her arm once more, reaching out with his other hand to knock on the door.
There was no noise on the other side of the pocket doors and for a moment, Angel wondered if her captor had gotten the wrong door. But then a murmur of a voice could be heard through the heavy oak, and he opened the door in front of them, pushing Angel in to the room in front of him. He used enough force to have her tripping over her own still unsteady feet and falling to her hands and knees.
Her hair came loose from the mess that had been a neat French braid when she’d walked out of the hospital, the silky strands falling around her face and hiding it from the men who stared down at her. It was deep red in color, coppery highlights shining in the depths of her locks as the light shone upon her. She managed to flip it back out of her way, glaring back at the huge oaf who had tossed her to the floor so easily, shooting daggers at him from the emerald green of her eyes.
“There was no cause for that amount of force, Clyde ,” a voice said from just in front of her.
She turned her head slowly, for the first time getting a look at the man Clyde called the boss. He was a small man, not much taller than her own five feet five inch height. Lean, with little muscle, he was dressed fussily in a dark gray designer suit that just screamed Italy
He seemed just the type to hire a big thug like Clyde . His hair was dark, mixed liberally with white, especially along his temples. His eyes were blue, icy looking as they stared down at her. He held himself with an air of authority, his posture erect, almost military in bearing.
As she stared at him, he reached out his hand. “Come, my dear. Let me help you up. Clyde is barely housebroken so I must apologize for his lack of tact and manners.”
She allowed him to take her hand, pushing her hair out of her face again as she rose. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice hoarse still from panic and the drug that she’d been given.
“Clyde , did you get our guest something to drink yet?” He barely waited for the man to answer before he turned, going to a small stand and lifting a decanter filled with clear liquid. Pouring a large glass, he brought it back to Angel, handing it to her in a courtly manner that surprised her. She almost expected him to click his heels together and bow to her.
She took a cautious sip, finding it to be cool, clear water. Then she wanted to down the entire glass at once, but she knew if she did something that dumb, she’d only be heaving it back up. She didn’t think this fussy guy would like it if she lost it all over his expensive Oriental rug.
“Thanks,” she said, tipping the glass at him. “So, you didn’t answer me. Who are you?” she tried again after drinking a few sips of the water.
“I wasn’t ignoring you, my dear. It just isn’t in your best interest to know who I am.”
“Okay. Then why am I here?” She finished the water, feeling better, the only aftereffects left was a dull nagging headache.
“That I can and will tell you. I need your help.” He gestured towards a small sofa turned toward the fireplace, indicating that she should sit down.
She went, perching on the edge of the couch, holding onto the empty glass. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to ask for my help instead of drugging me and putting me in a coffin?”
“Ah, but for the kind of help that I need, that was the easiest way. You see, I have this…associate who has information that I must have and soon. My problem, he has been very reluctant to share this information with me and I’m afraid Clyde and his brother, Floyd, were a trifle rough on him.” He slanted a disgusted look at the huge man.
“And you need me to fix him up? Why not take him to a hospital?” she asked, disbelief in her voice.
“Hospitals have a nasty habit of keeping records and calling the authorities, dear girl. No, you were the best person for the job.” He walked toward her, plucking the empty glass from her hand and returning it to the tray.
“What if I don’t want to do the job?” she asked slowly seeing his shoulders tighten under the fine fabric of his jacket.
He turned slowly and Angel shivered at the look of pure malice in his eyes. “I don’t think you understand, my dear. You really have little choice in the matter. You either do as I ask, heal my associate with no questions asked or I will have very little use for you. In that case,” he waved one negligent hand towards Clyde . “I would most probably give you to Clyde and his brother to play with.”
He walked closer to her, his voice growing quieter as if sharing some fun little secret with her. “The last girl I gave to them didn’t make it. Would you care to know how she died?” He didn’t wait for her answer continuing anyway. “She was fucked to death. They each took a side, if you get my meaning, dear girl. They ripped her up badly. I fear my two underlings are quite well possessed in the cock department.” He sighed. “It was a bloody mess to clean up after as well.”
Even though she tried, Angel couldn’t hide the shiver of disgust and revulsion. She glanced once at Clyde , seeing the huge grin he had upon his face. When he saw her looking, he licked his thick, flabby lips and ran the palm of his hand across the front of his pants. Angel closed her eyes, trying to ignore the thought of what that man could do to her.
“This is what I propose,” the man said, brushing off his hands and then picking an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate suit. “I will take you to my associate. You will be given what you need to heal him and then, when he is healed, I shall have you left in the same parking lot that you were taken from. You won’t be harmed if you do as you are told.” He looked her over, noting the pale cast to her features.
“You’ll let me go? Just like that? All I have to do is sew up a few cuts, dispense some antibiotics and then, bam, I’m out of here?” Angel didn’t believe a word of it. They’d gone to very elaborate designs to get her here, getting out of the mess she was in couldn’t be that easy.
“Yes, dear girl, just like that. I truly have no wish to see you harmed.” He walked toward her, his hand coming out to run over the thick wavy mass of her hair. He laughed as she cringed away from him. “Oh, no, Angelina, I don’t want you like that. To me, the thought of fucking you is more abhorrent than the thought of Clyde and Floyd’s touch is to you. Trust me, please, I shan’t ever touch you with lust in my heart.” He laughed as if he knew a secret and wasn’t willing to share.
Angel pushed a lock of her hair behind her ears. She was tired, hot and sweaty and wanted nothing more than a shower and sleep. “What about my job?” she asked him suddenly. “I’m expected to be there this afternoon for my normal shift. If I don’t show up, the hospital will start looking for me. If they can’t find me, they will call the police.”
He laughed, patting her cheek this time, watching her flinch away from him again. “Really, dear girl, you give me so little credit. I’ve called your hospital, yesterday while you slept so deeply in your coffin. Your father had a crisis and got in touch with you. You haven’t seen him in years and so you felt compelled to go to him since he is mortally ill. They were very sympathetic, they said to take off as long as you need and not to worry.”
“I don’t have a father,” she said stiffly, feeling that last hope melt away. “I’ve never had one.”
“Which is why the long lost father excuse worked so darn well,” he said jovially. “Now, are you going to cooperate, spend a few days caring for a sick man and then be put back where we found you? Or,” he nodded towards Clyde who came forward, his eyes gleaming with lust, his hand stroking a huge bulge that tented out the front of his pants. “Shall we call Floyd?”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” she spat at him.
“No, actually, you don’t. I’m glad you see it my way also.” He waved Clyde back, hearing the groan of disappointment that came from the man’s mouth. “You know, I watched what they did to that girl, I heard her shrieks of pain and saw her blood, I’m glad you’re being intelligent about this. It wasn’t something I’d like to see again.” He walked over sitting down on the couch next to her.
Angel scooted away, glaring at the man in disgust.
“All right then, in a few moments, Clyde will take you to a room where you can change, shower, and do anything else you might need to. There will be clean clothes there for you and I’ll send someone up with a tray. In an hour or so, I’ll come for you and take you to meet your patient. I will expect daily notice as to his condition, dear girl.”
“Wait,” Angel said, interrupting him. “I’ll take care of this man and do my job to make him well, I’ll give you your notices and I’ll behave myself. But, dammit all, my name is Dr. Angelina Carter. It’s not dear girl, or my dear or any of those other pet names you seem determined to use.” Her voice rose as she grew madder with every word.
Instead she sat up, her hand cradling her red cheek, tasting the blood in her mouth from where her lip had been cut on her teeth. She moved slowly, going back to the sofa, sitting in the same spot, lowering her hand to grasp her other in her lap.
“Now, dear girl, as I was saying, I expect daily notices and I want to be informed immediately upon when he regains consciousness. Clyde will escort you to your room now, so that you may get started upon your duties.”
He waited until Clyde came forward once more. Clyde ’s hand wrapped around the doctor’s arm and he smiled, that same lustful, half there smile when he felt her flinch. He hauled her up, dragging her towards the door when he was stopped by the man.
“Clyde , you are to escort her to her room. You are not to hurt her in any way. We need this one alive.”
Angel hurried beside him, tired of the whole grabbing thing already. They walked down one corridor, turning along another until she couldn’t have told you where in this huge monstrosity of a building that they were. Going up a short flight of stairs, he turned in front of another door, opening it and pushing her inside.
She barely had time to look around before Clyde grabbed her by the front of her scrubs, pushing her against a wall, his big body coming up against hers to hold her there.
His big, sausage like fingers slid over her face, roaming over the red mark on her cheek made by his boss. “I was disappointed you chose to do what he wants you to,” he whispered, lifting her chin with his fingers, cruelly holding her face still while his mouth came down over hers.
Angel struggled against him, barely able to breath with his huge hulk holding her still. His tongue wiggled its way between her tightly clenched lips, pushing against her teeth until she opened them too. When she tried to bite him, he grabbed hold of her breast through the layers of her scrubs and bra, squeezing until moaned in pain.
“All I want is one kiss, bitch, so do it and play nice and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled before kissing her again, lifting her so that his groin could press against hers. He began dry humping her, pushing that obscenely large bulge against her cotton covered sex, grinding and rubbing, all the while slobbering wet kisses across her face.
Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. He stepped back, letting her slide down his huge thigh before dropping to the floor. She sat there, staring up at him, terrified of what he planned to do next.
Angel heard the distinctive sound of a lock clicking before she jumped up, picked a likely door and hurried to it. Racing to the toilet, she lifted the lid and let the water she’d drunk earlier come back up. Tears streamed down her face, tears of pain and fear and rage even as she emptied her stomach.
Even then, the spasms continued, leaving her to dry heave until she thought she was dying. When the attack passed, she curled on the cool tile floor, pressing her cheeks against the coldness of the ceramic and wondered what she was going to do.
Even if she did what this jerk wanted her to do, he was going to kill her, she had no doubt. He hadn’t tried to disguise himself, she’d seen his face and the face of his man. They wouldn’t let her live to perhaps run to the police. She had to escape, that was all there was to it. But could she? This place was huge and she was sure she hadn’t seen it all.
She forced herself off the floor, going to the sink and grabbing the wrapped tooth brush off the counter. Her brand of toothpaste was next to it and she quickly brushed the taste of her sickness out of her mouth before staring at herself in the mirror over the sink. Her eyes were rimmed with red, highlighted by the dark shadows under them. The green was lackluster, almost gray with worry and fear. Her face was pale, except where the red welt of the slap still marked her cheek. Her lips were swollen from being mauled by Clyde .
Her hair was a tangled mass of red, hanging well past her shoulder blades. It was limp, dirty from sweating and being in that box. She needed that shower. She’d feel better when she was clean. With that thought in mind, she went back to the main room, her eyes widening at the luxury of the place.
It had the feel of a four star hotel, everything but the television anyway. A huge bed dominated the room filled with pieces of furniture that were curved and gilded, covered in chintz and beads. Definitely not something she was used to living on the salary she had now. Hurrying to windows, she pushed aside the heavy draperies, staring at the bars that were bolted to the walls outside. The other window was the same and she slammed her hand against the glass in frustration.
“Damn!” she groaned. The room faced to the back of a huge estate, looking over a large park like yard. Angel let her forehead rest against the glass for a moment and then sighed. Pushing away from the window, she went to the long dresser, opening the drawers and finding clothing, all new, though the tags had been removed. All were in her size as if he’d somehow known early enough in advance to buy it.
That thought scared her, enough that she grabbed a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, finding underwear and socks and headed back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She looked for a lock, but there wasn’t one, nor was there anything she could push up against the door to keep anyone out.
There was a huge soaking tub along with a shower stall. She gave one yearning glance towards the tub before going to the shower and turning on the water. She didn’t know how much time she had before someone would be coming back to bring her food and she didn’t want to be caught undressed. She dropped her dirty clothes on the floor, stepping into the glass enclosed shower and, for just a second, allowed herself to luxuriate under the heavy spray of hot water.
Her eyes grew wide when she saw the shampoo and conditioner on the small glass shelf, along with the body gel and scrub. All were her brands right down to the small poof that she used with the gel. How had he known? How long had he been planning this?
She hurried and got clean, grabbing a towel off a heated rack and drying off before forcing her still damp body into the clean clothes. Curious, she opened the medicine cabinet. She could have been looking into her own at home. Her deodorant, her brand of floss, the Advil she liked to use for headaches, everything down to the package of rubber bands she kept for pulling her hair back. All were brand new, the seals still unbroken.
She grabbed the brush, using it on her hair, pulling mercilessly through the tangles. She was seriously freaked out. She felt strangely violated by this man knowing so much about her.
She took the brush with her as she went into the other room. A small tray sat on the bed. It hadn’t been there when she’d gone into the bathroom; he must have come when she was in the shower. That thought gave her chills and she sat down on the side of the bed, her knees weak. She needed food, and she needed out of here.
She studied the tray, smelling the scent of bacon and eggs, a side of toast, a small bowl of sliced fruit. There was a huge glass of orange juice and a cup of steaming coffee. She had a fork, but no knife, and a small spoon for stirring her coffee. Picking up the toast, she sniffed at it before taking a tentative bite. Well, if it was drugged in any way, it was something she couldn’t taste.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it had been at least two days since her last hastily eaten meal she’d gotten at the hospital between emergencies. She picked up her fork, surprising herself by eating every bite.
She savored the coffee, definitely made by someone who knew their way around a coffee pot unlike the nasty brew they drank at work and the instant stuff which was all she had time for in the morning before she left for work. As she was about to finish it off, there was a knock on the door and then it opened, and he stood there.
She looked him over, noting in particular the gun that he held in his hand. He used it to motion her forward.
“I’m glad that you enjoyed your breakfast, Doctor. Is there anything else that we can get you?”
“You can put away the gun,” she said, her eyes never leaving the shiny silver barrel. “They make me nervous.”
“That’s good. It means that I won’t have any problems with you then. You might want to go in and find the shoes in the closet over there, Doctor. Where we’re going you’re going to need something on your feet.”
She did as she was bid, pulling out a pair of soft tennis shoes the same style, brand and color as the ones she had at home. It just added to the creepy feeling she’d been having. Without mentioning it, she went to the bed, sat down and pulled the shoes on her feet, quickly tying the laces.
“That’s good, doctor. Now if you’ll be so kind to come with me, I’ll take you to your patient.” He motioned with the gun, stepping back so that she went out of the room first and then motioning her to the left, away from the hall that she was familiar with. He stayed a few steps behind her, giving her directions when they came to another hall or a stairwell. Soon they were in an older area of the building, where no carpet was laid or wallpaper on the walls.
Cement block walls and concrete floors echoed back their footsteps and there was a decided chill in the air. She rubbed her bare arms under the dark purple tee shirt she wore and wished she’d grabbed a jacket.
“Stop right there,” her fussy captor spoke up, halting her in front of a bank of elevators. He pressed the down button and then motioned her into the car that opened up, smiling when she hesitated. “It’s just an elevator, girl. Get in,” he said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy.
She took a deep breath and stepped calmly into the elevator, turning when he motioned her to. He hit the lowest button, a floor that would take them underground and once more she wondered just how big this place was.
“My father bought this place off the government. It was some kind of research and design laboratory hidden by the mansion above it. It works well for my needs,” he said, seeing the question she didn’t ask in her eyes.
Angel refused to be drawn into conversation with him, instead watching the negative numbers as they flashed above the door. It stopped at level negative three and she grimaced, knowing she was under that much ground was going to be hard to ignore until she could get back on this elevator and ride it out of there.
The doors opened on another hallway, but this one was less than pristine as the others she’d seen had been. Cracked tiles, stained walls, mold and other fungus was easily discernable just from one quick glance. “You have an injured man down here in these conditions?” she asked him, outraged.
He just looked at her as if she were some strange insect that he’d just discovered. “That way, please, doctor,” he said, disregarding her words. He followed her out of the elevator, fussily watching where he walked so not to soil his shoes or the cuffs of his pants.
At the end of the hall was a huge white door, locked from the outside with a coded lock. He motioned her off to the side with the gun and quickly typed in the six digit code, blocking the pad from her sight. The door swung open, revealing a small room. It was dingy white with a small plastic table and two chairs in one corner. In the other was a silver colored toilet and sink. But what shocked her the most was what was lying on the tiny cot that was bolted against a wall.
He was a tall man, his feet hanging off the end of the short cot, his arms chained above his head, attached to a heavy duty eyehook in the wall. His hair was a mess, shaggy as if he usually kept it short and he was three months late for his next hair cut. His body was covered with bruises and scrapes. She could see it all for besides the cuffs around his wrists, the man was completely naked.
“What is this?” she asked, shocked.
“This is your patient.”
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