To Brook, without whom I have great difficulty writing and to Angie, Nelleke and jan. Love ya ladies!

Chapter 12

Hulme dragged Gemma from the room by her arm, trying hard not to hurt his boss' daughter, but still needing to get the girl out of there. He wanted to please his boss and secretly he was quite happy to have the attractive young woman to himself. He knew she had a penchant for the darker side of sex and had wanted on occasions to join her in her fantasies, but it wasn't done for the hired hand to bed the boss' daughter. Maybe this was the chance he's been looking for – the hero who rescued her from the nasty torture scene and brought her back to the safety of her home. He looked at her now with hungry eyes, seeing the tear stained face and the distraught look in her eyes. He couldn't believe that this was the same cold hearted vixen who had eaten boyfriends up and spat them out for enjoyment. What had that cop done to her to turn her normally hard heart? He shook his head.

Gemma was still struggling as he took her down to the car.

'Leave me alone' she yelled as she tried to prize her arm away from his fingers. 'You're hurting. My Father won't be pleased when I tell him you hurt me'.

Hulme licked his lips. 'I thought you liked hurt. Or is it that you like hurting men, but they can't touch you? Is that your fantasy Gemma?' he asked as he pushed her into the car.

She stared at him with hate in her eyes. 'That's none of your damned business and I wouldn't contemplate doing anything with a member of Daddy's staff, and its Miss Wheeler to you' she replied haughtily, folding her arms and staring straight ahead through the windshield.

Hulme looked at her sideways wondering if he dare try anything on with the girl. Maybe she was one of those women who enjoyed the fight? The reprimand stung and angered him. What right did she have to insist he call her Miss Wheeler? He'd wait till he got her to her home then try again.

They drove in silence for a while as she gazed out of the car window, arms still folded protectively in front of her, sniffling occasionally. She'd hated what she'd seen done to the man she'd slept with and for the first time in her life she hated her Daddy for not only allowing it to happen but for planning it in the first place. She'd known that the diamond meant a lot: that its value would mean that they could both retire and assume the life they'd both dreamed of. Financial security would be guaranteed with the sale of the gem and its lure had been seductive. But the price she'd had to pay in watching the evil Svenson torturing the curly haired cop was something she hadn't taken into account. His screams would remain with her to the end of her days and the image of the beaten and bloody body was engraved in her memory. Over and over in her head she played his pleading like a broken record. Gemma honey you don't want any part of this. Just let me go and I'll get us both out of here. Coupled with the look in his eyes – a look of betrayal that she hoped she'd never see again, the whole package left her feeling physically sick.

The car drove her home slowly and she blinked as she suddenly realised they were at the gates to her father's house. As Hulme stopped the car and walked round to open her door, she ignored him completely, getting out of the car and walking inside, going straight to her room and slamming the door behind her. She flung herself down on the bed, face first and let the tears fall unchecked. What had she gotten herself into and how could she get herself and Starsky out of the mire? Her eyes closed as exhaustion overtook her, but her dreams were full of the dark curly hair, the indigo eyes and the raw screams she'd experienced during the day.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Starsky had tried to duck away from Svenson's final kick, but had still caught almost the full force on his side. His ribs hurt like the devil, but he thought that nothing had actually broken, the kick being more in temper that to secure a significant injury. He'd rolled onto his side, grasping at his ribs as Wheeler had hit the big man across the face like a naughty schoolboy.

'I made a deal with him. Who gave you permission to kick him?' the old man said.

Svenson hung his head, a small kid being told off by his teacher. 'Sorry Mr Wheeler' he mumbled. 'He was disrespecting you'.

Wheeler reached up and ruffled the white hair, then pulled a handful of it, lowering the head until he could look Svenson in the eyes. 'I don't pay you to think. I pay you for these' he punched the muscles in the man's arms. 'Don't get ideas above your station Svenson, or you may go the way of some of your colleagues'.

Starsky thought he saw a moment of fear flash across the white haired giant's face, but another wave of pain took him and shook him and the moment vanished. Painfully he pushed himself up onto his knees and stayed there a moment, gasping for breath and riding the crest of the pain. He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see Wheeler reaching to help him to his feet and he struggled to stand, swaying as a wave of nausea threatened to part him from his supper. Wheeler smiled at him, as if he'd just invited him to tea rather than supervised his maltreatment.

'Go and get dressed' he said kindly. 'Then you can take me to the diamond'

Starsky looked around for his jeans and tee shirt, seeing them dumped in the corner where he'd left them seemingly months ago. He staggered over to them and bit back a yelp as his back muscles screamed at him protesting the movement. His back felt as though it was on fire, the centre of his body so sore he could hardly walk without flashing pains radiating up from the between his legs and if the welts on his back looked anything like the three stripes on his thighs, he knew he was a mess.

Starsky stepped into his jeans, hissing at the pain as he pulled them up and over his bruised and bleeding buttocks. He wished that he didn't have such a penchant for tight jeans and made a mental note to get himself a pair of baggy trousers when he'd gotten himself out of this. He shouldered into his tee shirt and groaned again as the smooth material rubbed against the raw and abraded skin of his back. As he stood, small specks of blood started to seep through the absorbent cotton material and he squared his shoulders trying to ignore the pain as he turned back to Wheeler.

A wave of dizziness took him and he fell back against the wall, bracing himself as the room spun around him. As he braced himself against the pale lavender wall, his bleeding wrists left bloody smears. Wheeler held his arm.

'Easy son. Here, take these' the older man held out two tablets in the palm of his hand. Starsky looked questioningly at him.

'Ya trying to poison me too?' he asked roughly.

Wheeler sighed. 'I know you don't have a lot of reason to trust me, but these are just aspirin. You look like you need them' he proffered the pills again and the brunette took them, dry swallowing them down.

'Course I need 'em' he muttered. 'You've just had Man Mountain there play piñata with my back for the past few hours'.

Wheeler smiled affectionately at Svenson. 'Yes, he does enjoy his work. Now, to business'.

'No. Before business. You let my partner go, now' Starsky turned his full gaze on the diamond merchant. 'I've said I'll get you the diamond, but I need to know Hutch is safe. You lay one more finger on him and I'll kill the both of you' he said calmly, squaring up to Svenson as the white haired man took a step forward.

Wheeler put his arm across Svenson's chest, holding the big man back. 'I'll allow you one phone call to see that he's OK. The minute you get the diamond, he goes free. But remember one thing. He doesn't know who's got him. The minute he does, I can't let him go. Understand?'

The curly haired cop nodded once understanding too that because he did know who'd taken him, his fate was now sealed. He waited as Wheeler dialled a number. The phone was answered and he heard him say 'put him on'. There was a delay then Starsky heard his partner arguing with his captors before finally Wheeler handed him the phone.

'You have one minute'.

The brunette took the receiver.

'Hutch?'

'Starsk?'

Starsky let out a sigh of relief. At least his partner was still able to speak, although he sounded as though he had cotton stuffed in his mouth. Probably been punched, he thought.

'You ok buddy?'

'Oh just peachy. Me 'n' the boys are just having a little party here'.

'They playin' nice?'

Starsky heard a soft snort. 'Well it aint Three Card Brag and Twister'.

'I know partner. I gotta go an' play a different game now, then ya can go home'.

He heard Hutch pause. 'You play nice too Gordo. Be careful. D'ya know who these goons are?'

The brunette swallowed. Yeah, that was the $64million question, but one he wouldn't answer, otherwise his partner was going to suffer.

'Just some guys who want to play games' he said carefully, wondering if he dare get a message to the blond without Wheeler knowing. 'You know how long it's been since we played out with the guys. Four years six months and two days'.

There was another pause. 'Aint that twelve days buddy?'

The telephone was snatched from his grip. 'What's with the dates?' Wheeler growled, his eyes dark with annoyance.

Starsky looked innocently back. 'So we don't have a great social life' he said calmly, secretly relieved that Hutch had understood his clue. At least if Wheeler was true to his word, Hutch would have somewhere to begin to look for him. He saw the doubtful look on the old man's face, but Wheeler let it go. He suspected something had gone on between the two, but couldn't say what it was. He pushed Starsky away from the phone, replacing it on the cradle.

'So are we gong to get the gem now?' he asked impatiently.

'Look, Wheeler. It's in the police exhibit store. Ya can drive down there with me, but if ya go in, you'll be questioned for sure. You're the one with the $1million bail tag. Why would someone with that price go back to the precinct huh? I'm gonna have to go in there alone' Starsky explained.

A black look shadowed Wheeler's face and he paused to consider. He took Svenson to one side, discussing something with the white haired man then turned back to the cop.

'Drop you trousers' he commanded.

The brunette looked up sharply, seeing there was no discussion to be had. He saw Svenson go back to Gemma's gym bag and pick out the dreaded black leather pouch along with something that looked suspiciously like a battery pack. Trying hard to ignore the rough hands once more on his intimate parts, he saw Svenson attach what looked like an electrode to a wire and tape it to the base of his penis, then the pouch was drawn closed. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.

'You can pull your jeans up now Detective' Wheeler said.

Svenson taped a small microphone to his chest so that they'd be able to hear what Starsky was saying. The wire was partially hidden in the dark fur there and absently Starsky thought the tape would hurt like hell when he pulled it off – if he ever got chance.

Wheeler was speaking. 'Have you ever heard of remote control?'

Seeing the look in the curly haired cop's eyes, Wheeler nodded at Svenson who flipped a small switch on a tiny control panel. Instantly Starsk dropped to his knees, fire encircling Little Davey and coursing through his guts and down his legs. The pain lasted a few seconds, then stopped as suddenly as it started. Starsky looked up at Wheeler, panting.

'Remote control' Wheeler explained. 'As you're going to have to go in there alone, you will be given a time limit. If I feel or hear that you are being…erm…tardy, Svenson here will remind you. If you aren't out in the given amount of time, your partner dies. Is that clear?'

Starsky nodded once, his hand still between his legs, as he felt the last vestiges of the electrical current roiling around his body.