Graham, Jan - Finding Angel [Wylde Shore] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

Wylde Shore

JAN GRAHAM

Copyright ©

Chapter One

Angel looked around the darkened bedroom. Walking to the window, she raised the blinds and pulled back the curtains. Even when light was invited into the room, it still looked gloomy. Its gray walls and black furniture gave it an oppressive atmosphere which was reflective of its owner. She opened the windows to allow fresh air to circulate, something she believed had not happened for quite a while. Angel had tried to avoid this room as much as possible. She hated the times he had summoned her there, forcing her to meet whatever need he had that day. A shiver drilled through her body at the memory of their last encounter. Thankfully, there would be no more encounters to deal with, only the bad memories of those that she had survived.

The top of the bedroom’s dresser was strewn with papers, and some personal items including a wallet, his silver chain, five rings, and a watch were interspersed with loose change. The bed was unmade, which was not unusual, and a packet of open cigarettes lay on the bedside next to a dirty ashtray. Angel recognised the black glass of the ashtray, but, due to the build up of ash and butts filling it, no one would ever be able to tell its true colour unless they had seen it clean. The man really was an unadulterated pig who liked to wallow in his own filth. Angel stripped the sheets off the bed, walked out into the tiny hall, down the stairs at the back door, and after locating the rubbish bin, threw the pile of sheets in. She collected two large garbage bags from the laundry on her way back into the house and re-entered the room. The dirty white of the mattress added extra light to the room, and Angel smiled as she realised that soon all trace of him would be gone. Physically he’d been gone for months, and up until today, all Angel had been able to cope with was just closing the door and ignoring the fact
he had ever been here. She surveyed the room, deciding what to do next. Collecting the change from the dresser before checking his wallet for cash, Angel was pleasantly surprised to find a total of seven hundred twenty-six dollars. It wasn’t much for all the shit she had put up with over the last five years, but it was better than nothing.

Flicking through the papers and other pieces on the dresser, Angel kept only what was relevant to her. The surviving documents included her last bank statement showing its impoverished balance and the rental agreement, which she would have to change into her name. Hopefully, the real estate agent would transfer the rental bond over from his name to hers, which would save her some money. Returning to his wallet, Angel removed all the cards it possessed. She smiled, finding the one she was looking for.

As she ran her fingers over the front of the blue card in her hands, Angel wondered how long it had been since her cash card had lived in her wallet. All she knew was it had been too many years. Angel scooped all the excess papers along with his wallet into one of the garbage bags. Collecting his watch and silver chain along with the cash and other items she wanted to keep, Angel walked into the kitchen and placed them next to her bag. She would need those later. Hopefully the watch, necklace, and rings would get her some more money if she could find a pawnbroker willing to buy them.

Angel collected some cleaning items, a small cardboard box, and resealable lunch bags before she returned to the bedroom. With the top of the dresser now vacant, she had a surface to work from. She wiped down the dresser surface and its mirror with antibacterial cleaner before placing the cleaning items on it. Once she had slipped a pair of disposable gloves on her hands, she began to systematically empty the dresser drawers. The drawers mainly contained clothes and underwear, which she threw into the garbage bags, but there were a few important items to keep. Two prepaid phones, some loose SIM cards with numbers, and his black leather phone book all went into the box. She bundled the loose, white pills and tiny packets of white powder into the resealable lunch bags before placing them in the box. Wiping out the now-empty drawers, Angel wondered how long it would take to get rid of his smell from the room. The smell of his aftershave, which she had never liked, mixed with the odour of a man who took pleasure from fear and violence. She shuddered, hoping the smell of disinfectant and other cleaning products would eradicate his stench from her nostrils once and for all.

Angel removed the bottom drawer, which had been altered to half the actual size of the cavity it occupied. She removed the items from it before reaching into the back of the dresser to remove a large, locked metal box that the half drawer had kept safely hidden. Angel had no idea where the key was and didn’t really care. That problem would be for someone else to sort out.

Angel casually collected clothes from the bedroom cupboard. Most of the items were black, either heavy metal or motorbike Tshirts, and jeans. There were only a few nicer pieces of clothing hanging in the wardrobe. His Armani suit stood out like dogs’ balls compared to the other items of clothing. Angel knew when he wore it that he had a court appearance, and despite fervent prayers for him not to return from court, he always did. His Harley Davidson leather bike jacket and pants along with his prized boots were the other more expensive items that she cheerfully decided to throw out. She laughed as she tossed the boots into a garbage bag. Angel smiled to herself.
Say something about that, you creep.

He cared for those boots nearly as much as he had cared for his Harley. The bike he owned was a chopper, a customised Harley that reminded Angel of Fonda’s bike from the movie
Easy Rider
. If only she knew where that was, it would be worth a fortune to sell. He’d brought the bike to the house on a few occasions, but he didn’t house it there. Angel assumed it was at a friend’s or in a secure car park somewhere, but she had no idea where. Returning to the clothes, Angel checked the pockets for anything that might be of use to her. She found a bit more cash in the suit before hitting the jackpot. Under a pair of stinky socks, buried in the feet of boots she had never seen him wear was more money than she had seen in ages. She undid one roll of notes and began to count. The first roll contained ten thousand dollars and the other two looked to be the same size.

Thirty thousand dollars.
Angel silently pondered the possibilities. If only she could keep it. However, Angel knew that she would receive a visit soon. Adrian had made it perfectly clear he wanted anything valuable that she found amongst the belongings, and she was certain she hadn’t seen the last of Steve. Angel reluctantly placed the money in the box. She would have to find a safe place for it until it was required. Angel threw the clothes in a garbage bag, even the Armani suit. It was a shame she didn’t know anyone that it would fit, but then she didn’t pay for it, so she didn’t really care. She stared at the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and started to tremble. The thought of even opening the drawer, let alone looking inside, made her ill.

“
I can’t cope with you just yet
”
she whispered before moving over to clean out the bedsides and under the bed.

The contents of the bedside tables were uneventful. Most of it was just rubbish, empty cigarette packets, lighters, old receipts, pills, and a collection of porn magazines. Angel wondered what crap she would find under the bed, and despite not really wanting to look, she knew she had to. It turned out to be surprisingly clean under there. The dust made her sneeze as she dragged both empty and half-used bottles of liquor out from underneath. A brown envelope was poking out from between the slats of the bed base in the far right-hand corner of the bed. As Angel crawled farther under the bed, her hair tangled in something attached to the bed base. Rolling sideways to free herself, Angel saw the knife in its leather sheath strapped to one of the slats.

Bastard,
so that’s where you hid it.
Her hand shook as she reached up, unclipping it before flinging it out from its home.

Angel had always tried to check that there were no knives on display when she came into the room, but even if she thought she was safe, he always ended up holding a blade against her skin at some stage throughout the night. He would never leave the bed, and Angel never knew how he always ended up with a knife. Until now she had no idea where he kept it, even though she had looked many times. Turning her attention back to the envelope, Angel slid it from between the slats. She eyed the bottom of the bed. Pulling a manila folder from behind one of the bedsides, Angel reversed out, eager to see what she had discovered. The manila folder contained information about her. Addresses and pictures of her brothers and their families, copies of her personal details, and photographs he had taken of her. Angel watched as three CDs slid out of the folder from between the pile of photos. She had no idea what they were but was sure they were probably the home movies he had made of her.

Threats made when she had attempted to leave him flooded her mind. He’d destroy her. If people knew what she would do in bed, he could make a lot of money off the things he had evidence of her doing. Truth was that Angel wouldn’t willingly do half the things he had made her do, but the threat of death and a knife at a person’s throat made a woman do whatever was required to survive. Angel closed the folder, making a mental note to burn its contents the first chance she got.

The brown envelope was more interesting, mainly because it didn’t involve her. She returned the contents, sealing it shut. Angel placed it on the top of the dresser and turned back to the wardrobe. She opened one of the bottles of Jack Daniels she had retrieved from under the bed. Staring once again at the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, she took a few big gulps of the liquor, trying to fortify herself for the task ahead.

Angel pulled the bottom drawer out, feeling light-headed and slightly nauseated. Staring at the contents bought back memories she didn’t want to think about. Angel was less interested in the handcuffs, chains, ropes, floggers, straps, and gags. She could cope with those. She even enjoyed the use of them in the hands of the right man. Samuel, however, was not the right man. In Samuel’s hands they became unpleasant aids to torture. Angel needed to figure out how to get to the contents underneath the sex aids.

The drawer was deeper than the space the items in it occupied, and Angel knew he kept his weapons of choice hidden in here. Upending the drawer onto the bed, Angel heard something thud inside the base of the drawer as she turned it over. She rummaged through the items on the bed, discarding them one by one into a garbage bag. Once she had cleared away the chains and other kinky sex aids, Angel was left with three items. She stared at them, one small, silver key, a hip flask, and a screwdriver. Angel assumed the hip flask didn’t open the drawer, but she undid the lid to smell its contents before quickly pulling it away from her nose as a pungent odour drifted into her nostrils.

That can’t be good for you.
She screwed the lid back on as her head gave a heavy thump in warning that the contents should be avoided.

She picked up the key. As there wasn’t a lock on the bottom of the drawer or anywhere underneath it that she could see, Angel assumed it was for the locked box she had found earlier. She walked to the dresser and slid the key into the lock on the metal box. Its contents were no surprise. Packets of marijuana, scales, plastic bags, and a plastic container full of little pills. The only non-drug-related item was a little black book full of names, phone numbers, and dollar values near some of the names. Angel locked the box and turned her attention to the screwdriver. There were two small screws either side of the bottom of the drawer, but the screwdriver didn’t fit them. As she was trying to unscrew one with the oversized tool, Angel caught her glove on something. A little, black button protruded from the front panel of the drawer. Running her hand along the panel, she discovered a second button. As Angel pressed both buttons into the panel, the base of the drawer popped open, exposing a dark green duffle bag nearly completely filling the hidden cavity. Placing it on the bed, Angel unzipped the bag’s front pocket. She found a wallet, a birth certificate, and a key ring with half a dozen keys attached.

The birth certificate didn’t belong to Samuel. Well, it probably did, but it wasn’t his name on it. The wallet contained two thousand dollars and a driver’s license for Sam Barnes. The picture on it was Samuel’s.

So you had another personality.
Angel pondered her discovery
. Maybe this was the nice one and he just kept it hidden in a drawer
.

The address on the driver’s license was about four hours’ drive away, a little country bushland area just across the state border. Angel knew where it was only because Samuel had taken her there once. Unfortunately she had spent most of the weekend chained to a tree, but at least she could say he had taken her on a holiday. Still, she hadn’t been taken to a house out that way. Samuel had left a few times throughout the weekend and had come back showered and in a fresh change of clothes. Maybe he had visited the address.