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The Hobsons Choice Affair Chapter 26
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Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
A door opened and Illya was pushed inside a room. The first thing he
saw was Napoleon on a chair, Angelique curled up on his lap, as if
she belonged there. He felt an irrational surge of betrayal like a
knife wound to his heart.
Then he took a second look. Saw the scratches on Napoleon's neck,
the bruises on his face, the ropes around his hands, and the mute
appeal in his eyes. And he saw the dark amusement in Angelique's
eyes. Like a pendulum his emotions swung into proprietary rage.
The gun at his back prodded him to take a stumbling step further into
the room. Illya turned and glared at Ryan. Ryan sneered back at
him. "I brought you a present, Angelique."
Angelique got up off Napoleon's lap and sauntered over to Illya, her
hips swaying enticingly, sure of her power to arouse a man,
especially this man.
Illya was willing to play the role of captive audience, at least
until he was sure Napoleon was safe. One eye on Angelique, he risked
a quick look at Napoleon. What he saw made his heart sink. Napoleon
was shaking off the ropes, slowly rising from his chair, a predatory
look on his face as he watched Angelique walk toward Illya. He knew
that Napoleon was about to do something phenomenally stupid. Brave,
but stupid. It seemed to be his mark in trade.
As Angelique ran a hand down Illya's chest, her fingers dancing down
to his belt and then beyond to lightly caress his crotch, Illya tried
to send a warning to Napoleon with his eyes, begging him to sit down,
that he needed to leave the spy work to the spies. He wasn't in the
least surprised when Napoleon ignored him, reaching to pick up a
heavy statue d'art from the coffee table.
Illya wondered what Ryan was doing that he seemed oblivious to
Napoleon's behavior. He turned his head quickly and saw that Ryan
was staring at Angelique, anger turning his face an unpleasant shade
of red.
He only had seconds to act. Not willing to risk Napoleon being shot
by Ryan, Illya decided there was no time like the present to use the
weapon he'd been handed. He gifted Angelique with a smile full of
blatant invitation, while his eyes glowered another warning glare at
Napoleon.
Illya made his voice husky. "I'm guessing Ryan hasn't shared his
plans for me with you?" Even as Angelique was still caressing his
quiescent penis, trying to elicit a response, Illya backed into Ryan,
teasingly pressing his ass against Ryan's crotch.
The man still had a partial erection, and, as Illya had hoped, he
instinctively pushed toward Illya, a low moan escaping his lips.
Angelique's eyes widened and then narrowed as she took in the look of
desire on Ryan's face. Her voice throbbed with danger. "Nobody
touches him but me. Nobody!"
Illya pressed back again, rubbing his ass enticingly across the
hardening shaft behind him.
Ryan's arm shot around Illya's waist, trying to keep him in place,
his libido and desire for the Russian making him forget who it was he
was displeasing. "I'll touch whoever I please. I don't work for
you, Angelique."
Napoleon watched Illya, equal parts confused and mad as hell. He was
also humiliated that he'd come here to keep Illya safe, and somehow,
here was Illya, trying to keep him safe. Napoleon had a prescient
moment, seeing the years ahead filled with this dance between he and
Illya, saving each other, pushing each other out of the line of fire.
As he saw the crazed look in Angelique's eyes, Napoleon began to
guess what Illya's plan was. The man's audacity was astonishing.
Napoleon stayed loose on his feet, wanting to be ready for anything,
his fingers still tight around the statue, just in case.
Angelique let out a hiss of displeasure and her hand flew through the
air, leaving a trail of red scratches on Ryan's face. "He's mine."
"You bitch!" Ryan pulled Illya to his side, and aimed his gun at
Angelique.
Angelique ignored the gun, and grabbed Illya's arm, yanking him away
from Ryan with a ferocity that surprised even Illya.
Illya stumbled past Angelique and landed right in Napoleon's arms.
Which was right where Napoleon wanted him. Glancing up, and seeing
that the catfight between Angelique and Ryan was just getting
started, Napoleon wasted no time in pulling Illya toward the door.
Illya found his feet, and fully cooperating, raced Napoleon out the
door and down the hall. He needed to get Napoleon to safety. Then
he could track down Ryan and find out what the hell was going on and
who was ultimately behind all the deaths. Ryan didn't have the
brains or the resources to be the mastermind for a plan of this
magnitude.
As they sprinted for the door at the end of the hallway, Napoleon
glanced at Illya. "By the way, is there anyone you've slept with who
isn't a psychopathic killer?"
Not correcting Napoleon's mistaken impression about Ryan, Illya
retorted back, "How have you survived so long being this stupid?"
Napoleon frowned at him, his tone insulted, as he reached for the
doorknob. "I beg your pardon. I am not stupid; I'm lucky. Lucky."
He annunciated the word carefully. "There's a big difference." He
turned the knob.
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