6. Nemesis
Pick was also the first one to awake this morning. Knowing that he would regret it he looked over to Sandrine. She seemed so fragile and peaceful - ready for an invasion. "I need a cold shower," he said and went into the bathroom. Usually it was not hard for him to focus on his assignment, but normally it was his duty to terrify, mutilate and kill others. Therefore it has never been a problem to act professional. Doing his job gave him this special feeling of control, the only feeling in his life that offered constant pleasure and made it possible to stay calm and relaxed. Of course he needed always a great deal of willpower to keep in certain situations together.
Before he met Fouchon he tended to loose himself in the pleasure, but his friend could understand him like no one else and he understood to guide his energies in more constructive directions. Moreover he respected Fouchon, but could not stop thinking about Sandrine in this way. After he was finished and walked back into the room, he thought it was most possible that someone of Fouchon's bloodline was the most tempting and challenging target he had ever met.
For a second Sandrine looked a bit frightened as she was pushed out of her dreams. Seeing her kidnapper face to face as a first impressions was not the best way to start a new day. Being told that she had fifteen minutes in the bathroom did not make up for that. After she was released from her bondage she hurried with her bag into the bath so fast, that she forgot her clothes outside.
The other clothes were to much shorter than she liked them to be, but she had no time to think about that. A short jeans and an armless top was the best thing she could find in her hurry. She rushed out and put her stuff in her bag.
"Seven minutes - not bad."
"So at least one of us is happy."
Pick could not help, but smiling. She got much better on pretending not to care. He wondered if she belonged to the kind of victims who would beg for mercy. That was the worst thing, he normally did not give much about, because he never granted mercy. It had been simply irrelevant if he could humiliate a person for the entire rest of her life or not. Sometimes it was just more fun watching them beg.
In her case it was different, perhaps because he never was involved with a victim like this. Of course, putting Fouchon's involvement aside, he could hurt her, rape her and even kill her, but if he wondered if he could make her beg for mercy. He really liked to know.
He decided not to make any conversational attempts, instead he concentrated on the street, the weather and the landscape. Pick hated all of those, mainly because they were boring, but that was the idea. Sandrine continued with her book and until he had to stop for gas, he did not pay much attention to Sandrine.
This day she could not follow the storyline at all. Burning questions came into her mind. Most of all she was not able to ignore the possibility that Fouchon maybe wanted to sell her to one of his clients. At least about Fouchon being a ruthless and very dangerous individual her father was right. If he knew guys who paid for hunting down a man, he might also knew someone who liked to pay a fortune for a young and beautiful virgin.
If he had wanted revenge for something that happened between him and her mother, he was most likely to do something like it. Of course his associate might like to help him out with that, although she hoped that if Van Cleaf had any intentions to rape her he would have already done so. Although she was aware of him playing games, she hold onto this idea.
This time the gas station was not the optimal choice, but he had not found a good one earlier and he was not taking any risks. Outside a small town was better than one in a small village. Beside a shed and a decayed looking building the place was easy to overlook. .He chained Sandrine this time to her door, so nobody could see it - until he walked closer to the car. He fuelled the tank and went in to pay and buy some cold drinks. He really hated this hot climate.
No sooner he had disappear in the building that two unpleasant looking fellows walked out of the small hut. The moment Sandrine saw them it was too late for her trying to close the window at her side. As they started talking to her she could smell the cheap beer they had drunk.
"What a cute hopper we got here, don't you want to come out and play with us."
He grabbed at her and as she backed off the handcuffs cut into her wrists.
"So, that is going on here, you and the guy playing a bit, mind us to join?"
The first guy came closer and just as he was about to touch her breasts with his dirty fingers, the noise of someone hitting the ground made him turn his head. Just in time to see a shadow. Then Pick kicked hard in the hollow of his right knee and banged his head against the car. Unconscious the guy dropped to the floor. Sandrine was relieved to see him, but still this disgusting feeling was over here. She never had felt anything like it, alone the thought of one of this guys touching her made her feel sick. It was more than just a little nausea of her stomach, she felt like throwing up everything in her digestive tract.
Van Cleaf misjudging her silence asked her: "Well - Tell me what you would have done, but don't expect me to believe you wouldn't at least like to smash in their fucking stupid faces."
"Great and HOW?" Her anger made her ignore the pain of the handcuffs cutting in her flesh even deeper as she raised her hands to show him that she would not have been able to. Pick just grinned. She might indeed be of Fouchon's lineage. He bend down to unlock her as she suddenly yelled: "Behind you."
He had paid her so much attention that he had not noticed that the guy he had struck down first got on his feet with a ready knife. Sandrine's warning came early enough. Two strikes send his feeble opponent to the floor. From the new stronger bleeding Pick would make any bet that this time it would take him much longer to get up. What a shame that he could not take more severe measures, but anything behind common fist fight, would caught too much attention.
"Shall I call the police?", the keeper shouted out of his door.
"That won't be necessary - I think they got something to think about."
With a sinister laughing the man disappeared into his shop.
He shrugged, then he took the fresh water bottle from the ground and got back into the car. Sandrine seemed still to be a bit upset.
"Why did you warn me?" Pick asked her.
"That guy had a knife," she reminded him. Although she knew, that this was not all what made her shout. Sandrine had a clear idea what those guys had wanted from her. Whether she was better up with Pick, she would not dare to say, but at that moment she had pretty much felt like it. Besides, her reaction might have improved her situation. Thinking it over she was sure that Pick would have won against that guy anyway. Only that her warning had saved him from an unpleasant injury. Having a psychopathic, sadistic killer as your kidnapper was bad, but for sure, having a psychopathic, sadistic killer with a knife wound as your kidnapper would have been much worse.
"I am afraid you have to remain in handcuffs for a time," He did not say it like he was sorry. She felt that he was not unhappy about this development at all. "I don't want to stop until we got away from this pitiful scenario."
It was really convenient for him that the keys for the handcuffs were on the same chain as the car keys.
'I expected too much, " Sandrine thought.
At least the pain was gone, but reading was not possible. Not that she was not much in the mood for it. For a moment she considered asking him if she could release herself. Two reasons held her back. First she was not sure if she would make it. Theoretical she knew the tricks, but she never tested it on handcuffs. Second he might not take it well that she was able to open them herself.
Pick liked the picture of Sandrine in handcuffs. It made no difference if she was asleep or awake, she did not show any sign of embarrassment over her being chained. Most people seemed to feel humiliated just by the contact of the cold metal against their skin. Sandrine acted like it was no more than a unhandy accessory. He was astonished. Naturally he preferred it the other way.
Pick was also the first one to awake this morning. Knowing that he would regret it he looked over to Sandrine. She seemed so fragile and peaceful - ready for an invasion. "I need a cold shower," he said and went into the bathroom. Usually it was not hard for him to focus on his assignment, but normally it was his duty to terrify, mutilate and kill others. Therefore it has never been a problem to act professional. Doing his job gave him this special feeling of control, the only feeling in his life that offered constant pleasure and made it possible to stay calm and relaxed. Of course he needed always a great deal of willpower to keep in certain situations together.
Before he met Fouchon he tended to loose himself in the pleasure, but his friend could understand him like no one else and he understood to guide his energies in more constructive directions. Moreover he respected Fouchon, but could not stop thinking about Sandrine in this way. After he was finished and walked back into the room, he thought it was most possible that someone of Fouchon's bloodline was the most tempting and challenging target he had ever met.
For a second Sandrine looked a bit frightened as she was pushed out of her dreams. Seeing her kidnapper face to face as a first impressions was not the best way to start a new day. Being told that she had fifteen minutes in the bathroom did not make up for that. After she was released from her bondage she hurried with her bag into the bath so fast, that she forgot her clothes outside.
The other clothes were to much shorter than she liked them to be, but she had no time to think about that. A short jeans and an armless top was the best thing she could find in her hurry. She rushed out and put her stuff in her bag.
"Seven minutes - not bad."
"So at least one of us is happy."
Pick could not help, but smiling. She got much better on pretending not to care. He wondered if she belonged to the kind of victims who would beg for mercy. That was the worst thing, he normally did not give much about, because he never granted mercy. It had been simply irrelevant if he could humiliate a person for the entire rest of her life or not. Sometimes it was just more fun watching them beg.
In her case it was different, perhaps because he never was involved with a victim like this. Of course, putting Fouchon's involvement aside, he could hurt her, rape her and even kill her, but if he wondered if he could make her beg for mercy. He really liked to know.
He decided not to make any conversational attempts, instead he concentrated on the street, the weather and the landscape. Pick hated all of those, mainly because they were boring, but that was the idea. Sandrine continued with her book and until he had to stop for gas, he did not pay much attention to Sandrine.
This day she could not follow the storyline at all. Burning questions came into her mind. Most of all she was not able to ignore the possibility that Fouchon maybe wanted to sell her to one of his clients. At least about Fouchon being a ruthless and very dangerous individual her father was right. If he knew guys who paid for hunting down a man, he might also knew someone who liked to pay a fortune for a young and beautiful virgin.
If he had wanted revenge for something that happened between him and her mother, he was most likely to do something like it. Of course his associate might like to help him out with that, although she hoped that if Van Cleaf had any intentions to rape her he would have already done so. Although she was aware of him playing games, she hold onto this idea.
This time the gas station was not the optimal choice, but he had not found a good one earlier and he was not taking any risks. Outside a small town was better than one in a small village. Beside a shed and a decayed looking building the place was easy to overlook. .He chained Sandrine this time to her door, so nobody could see it - until he walked closer to the car. He fuelled the tank and went in to pay and buy some cold drinks. He really hated this hot climate.
No sooner he had disappear in the building that two unpleasant looking fellows walked out of the small hut. The moment Sandrine saw them it was too late for her trying to close the window at her side. As they started talking to her she could smell the cheap beer they had drunk.
"What a cute hopper we got here, don't you want to come out and play with us."
He grabbed at her and as she backed off the handcuffs cut into her wrists.
"So, that is going on here, you and the guy playing a bit, mind us to join?"
The first guy came closer and just as he was about to touch her breasts with his dirty fingers, the noise of someone hitting the ground made him turn his head. Just in time to see a shadow. Then Pick kicked hard in the hollow of his right knee and banged his head against the car. Unconscious the guy dropped to the floor. Sandrine was relieved to see him, but still this disgusting feeling was over here. She never had felt anything like it, alone the thought of one of this guys touching her made her feel sick. It was more than just a little nausea of her stomach, she felt like throwing up everything in her digestive tract.
Van Cleaf misjudging her silence asked her: "Well - Tell me what you would have done, but don't expect me to believe you wouldn't at least like to smash in their fucking stupid faces."
"Great and HOW?" Her anger made her ignore the pain of the handcuffs cutting in her flesh even deeper as she raised her hands to show him that she would not have been able to. Pick just grinned. She might indeed be of Fouchon's lineage. He bend down to unlock her as she suddenly yelled: "Behind you."
He had paid her so much attention that he had not noticed that the guy he had struck down first got on his feet with a ready knife. Sandrine's warning came early enough. Two strikes send his feeble opponent to the floor. From the new stronger bleeding Pick would make any bet that this time it would take him much longer to get up. What a shame that he could not take more severe measures, but anything behind common fist fight, would caught too much attention.
"Shall I call the police?", the keeper shouted out of his door.
"That won't be necessary - I think they got something to think about."
With a sinister laughing the man disappeared into his shop.
He shrugged, then he took the fresh water bottle from the ground and got back into the car. Sandrine seemed still to be a bit upset.
"Why did you warn me?" Pick asked her.
"That guy had a knife," she reminded him. Although she knew, that this was not all what made her shout. Sandrine had a clear idea what those guys had wanted from her. Whether she was better up with Pick, she would not dare to say, but at that moment she had pretty much felt like it. Besides, her reaction might have improved her situation. Thinking it over she was sure that Pick would have won against that guy anyway. Only that her warning had saved him from an unpleasant injury. Having a psychopathic, sadistic killer as your kidnapper was bad, but for sure, having a psychopathic, sadistic killer with a knife wound as your kidnapper would have been much worse.
"I am afraid you have to remain in handcuffs for a time," He did not say it like he was sorry. She felt that he was not unhappy about this development at all. "I don't want to stop until we got away from this pitiful scenario."
It was really convenient for him that the keys for the handcuffs were on the same chain as the car keys.
'I expected too much, " Sandrine thought.
At least the pain was gone, but reading was not possible. Not that she was not much in the mood for it. For a moment she considered asking him if she could release herself. Two reasons held her back. First she was not sure if she would make it. Theoretical she knew the tricks, but she never tested it on handcuffs. Second he might not take it well that she was able to open them herself.
Pick liked the picture of Sandrine in handcuffs. It made no difference if she was asleep or awake, she did not show any sign of embarrassment over her being chained. Most people seemed to feel humiliated just by the contact of the cold metal against their skin. Sandrine acted like it was no more than a unhandy accessory. He was astonished. Naturally he preferred it the other way.
