My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape Read online

  “Look at me,” he spat.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at him, his perfect face not so perfect any more, his anger warping it.

  He sneered at me. “I can make Alberto not want you anymore.”

  “I hope you succeed.”

  A nasty smile spread across his face. “So, you want your face carved up then?”

  I stiffened.

  “I didn’t think so, but it will solve all your problems. No one will want you anymore. No more rape, no more pain once you’ve healed, I’d be doing you a favor.”

  “The Padre will kill me if you make me ugly, then he will kill you for doing it.”

  His grip tightened on my hair, making me wince. “My father wouldn’t allow that.” He lifted his gun again, pointing it at Rita. “Back off, bitch!”

  She took another step closer, asking in Italian how much she was worth to his family.

  He stared at her blankly. “Speak English, my Italian is shit.”

  “Yet I speak like a native,” she said, “as though I was born here. And do you know why?”

  “You learned it from your foster parents. They must’ve been from here.”

  “No, I lied to you, I didn’t have Italian foster parents, I had Italian parents, and I was born here; I’m Sophia Salvi’s sister.” She raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t think you were the only one with secrets, now did you?”

  “You’re lying,” Matteo said, “and it’s pointless because it’ll make no difference.”

  “That’s not true, because my family are coming back to stake a claim on this island, taking a piece from the Donatelli pie. And by the way, I’m not FBI, I’m an informant like you are, just for my family.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Like you lied to me about being a good ol’ Americano boy? Although it wasn’t too hard to believe with your Jersey accent, guido, but I speak real Italian, because I am one—unlike you, half-breed.”

  Matteo let go of my hair, my heart pounding over Rita’s words. Was she lying or was she speaking the truth? I couldn’t tell, but it made sense, because of her looks and the way she’d treated Frano.

  She smiled, the expression mean, then she looked down at her nails. “I’ve been aching for your idiot family to take me.” She tapped her leg. “And by the way, my family know exactly where I am.”

  “You’re lying!” Matteo yelled.

  “Then give me a knife so I can cut out the tracking device and show you.”

  “No, the FBI would’ve put it in there; you’re just trying to trick me.”

  “Which wouldn’t be hard to do considering you’re a simpleton.”

  “Watch your mouth!”

  She grinned. “That’s a bit hard to do without a mirror.”

  Matteo stared at her in disbelief. “Are you fucking mad? I’ve got a fucking gun.”

  “Then shoot me, but if you do, my family will make you pay in blood.”

  “Just shut up, just fucking shut up!”

  “Why are you panicking, Matteo? Really, this is not like you.”

  “I’m not panicking; you’re driving me fucking nuts with your annoying fucking voice. I lost count how many times I wanted to strangle you just to shut you up. And it doesn’t matter what your family is up to, because mine is more powerful. The Donatelli own this island, we control all the families, so yours can’t do shit.”

  “So, you finally believe I’m Salvi?”

  “No.”

  “That’s not what you said before.”

  He sneered. “Your pretend family then, because my uncle told me that there was only one Salvi girl.”

  “He wouldn’t have known about me. I’m a shameful mistake my mother made with another man, so I was sent away. You must know about mistakes, after all you are one.”

  Matteo glared at Rita, the man’s neck muscles ready to snap.

  “Are you still here?” she said. “I thought you had left because you’re never quiet. By the way, I didn’t actually know you were Donatelli, though I did realize you were playing me, because come on, if you were pretending not to be gay you really shouldn’t have gotten me to frig your ass, that gave it away pretty quick, bum boy, and also, you really should delete your history on the computer. The amount of times I found gay porn sites on there was ridiculous, although I must say, it was rather entertaining.”

  “You’re definitely lying! I used incognito for those sites.”

  She laughed. “You are so easy to crack; I didn’t even have to try to get you to admit that. I really don’t know how you became an FBI agent, because you are so lame.”

  “Shut the fuck up, you bitch!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sensitive much? Anyway, I did actually enjoy your lovely body, but still, pity it isn’t as nice as Jagger’s.” She looked down at me. “I can see why Alberto chose you over blondie.”

  “YOU BITCH!!!” Matteo shoved me to the floor and rushed at Rita.

  She dodged him, the smile still on her face. “What did I say?”

  He raised the gun to her face, his expression vicious. “I am second to NO ONE!”

  “Then why come in here threatening Jagger’s pretty face. Are you so insecure that you can’t even win Alberto’s ugly ass over without having to cut Jagger up?”

  “Jagger seduced him.”

  “Jagger hates him.”

  “And I hate Jagger!”

  “Only because you’re a sore loser.”

  His eyes flashed. “You’re just asking me to shoot you, you stupid bitch.”

  “Then you’ll set off a full out war with my family who, by the way, have an arsenal at their disposal. What do you think they have been doing since my sister’s murder? Growing grapes? No, they’ve been gunrunning. And by the way, we will kill that murdering priest. He will die painfully and anyone else who was involved in my sister’s death. And if you kill me, you will die just as painfully. So, if you want to survive, let me and Jagger go.”

  He laughed, then in the blink of an eye he hit Rita across the face with the gun, knocking her back. He quickly pocketed his gun then went for her, screaming, “You’re pulp, bitch!”

  I jumped up to defend her, but she dropped to the floor fast, wrapping her legs around Matteo’s ankles, taking him down. I took a step back as he hit the floor with a shout of surprise. She grabbed his hair and head-butted him, causing him to yell out again, then pushed him onto his back and went for his gun. Her head whipped back as he punched her, Matteo going for the gun himself. As he pulled it out, she punched him in the crotch, ripping a scream out of him, then snatched the gun off him and slammed it across his face, knocking him out. She pushed up and kicked him in the stomach, the man no longer moving. Turning to me, she indicated at Matteo. “Check his pulse.”

  I went to him, holding fingers against his neck. “He’s still alive. Kill him.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then raised the gun, her hand now shaking.

  “What are you waiting for?” I said. “Kill him!”

  She continued to stare at Matteo, then lowered the gun. “I can’t.”

  “Then I’ll do it,” I said, reaching for the gun.

  She turned the gun on me.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, backing up.

  “I don’t want him dead.”

  “He’s not really your husband.”

  “Regardless, I don’t want him dead, so leave him; his family can deal with his stupidity.”

  “He’ll come after me again.”

  “Not if I kill Alberto, I have no problem with shooting him. Now, let’s go, we’re wasting time.” She headed for the door, then stopped and turned back to me. “Don’t be stupid, Jagger, we have to go now.”

  “I told you that I’m not going.”

  “You don’t get a choice.” She moved behind me and placed the gun to my back. “Remember I’m mafioso not FBI, so move, Jagger, because I really don’t want to shoot my baby sister’s love.”

  “You’ll get my brother
and Frano killed.”

  “I’m sure we aren’t going to sneak out of here without being noticed, which means they will see you are being forced. So, move!”

  I headed through the door and down the passage, everything that Rita had said and done shocking me. We descended the staircase, a guard shouting at us to stop. Rita started talking to him, telling the burly man to let us pass or I was dead, and if I died the Padre would do horrendous things to him, her description graphic, making the guard wince because it was believable. She placed an arm around my waist and yanked me to the side, yelling at another guard to back off, the man trying to sneak up on us.

  “Move together!” she yelled at the guards. “Now!”

  The guards held their hands up, doing what she asked. With me in front of her, she backed us towards the door, her head constantly turning, making sure all was clear. A couple more guards appeared behind the other ones, but they were just as redundant.

  She opened the door behind us, then backed me out. We walked down the steps and headed for the expensive cars. The guards appeared in the doorway with their guns raised, but no gunfire followed, her fast talk about the Padre obviously ringing true to them—and me.

  She smashed the window of a Maserati and opened the door. “On three jump in the car,” she said. “One, two, three!”

  I jumped in and ducked down as gunfire rang out. Seconds later, the driver’s door slammed shut, Rita showing at my side. She handed me the gun and yelled, “Shoot back!”

  I turned around and fired through the smashed window. The guards fell back, running for cover. A few seconds later, the Maserati came alive. Rita backed out fast, then stepped on the gas, making the car jump forward, taking off with gunfire accompanying it. We speed through the line of trees, my eyes widening as we neared the gate. I grabbed for my seatbelt, clicking it on just as Rita smashed into it, taking the gate out, its size small, not big like the Donatelli abode.

  “Where now?” she said, swinging the car around.

  “Take the next left,” I breathed out, my heart in my throat, the woman doing the impossible. I opened the glove box, praying for a phone. I swore when I found none. “I have to warn my famiglia,” I said.

  “They’ll be fine. But I won’t be if you don’t do as I tell you.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need you to pretend I’m FBI. I can’t have Frano knowing who I am, because I have to be shipped out to the Black Russian. That bastard has Sophia, and I’m getting her back.”

  “What?! But you said she was dead.”

  “I lied.”

  3

  Rita

  I couldn’t believe I’d pulled that off. They had all fallen for my lies, totally and utterly, but it wasn’t my lies that had gotten me and Jagger out, it was Matt and his predictable temper. Hands down he was a better fighter than me, but whenever he got upset he got sloppy, which tonight was my ticket to freedom ... for the time being anyway, because my job was far from finished.

  I glanced at Jagger, his happy face extinguishing my euphoria, guilt quickly filling its void. Maybe I shouldn’t have lied about Sophia being alive, inadvertently giving him false hope, but I had to get to the Black Russian, and telling the truth wasn’t going to get me there.

  Jagger turned in his seat to face me. “Frano will get Sophia back, he can bargain with the Black Russian.” He paused, then practically bounced in his seat, his nakedness making it hard to concentrate on the road, especially with his gearstick so close to my hand. “We can trade me for her. I’ll give the Russian the night he wants; I’ll do anything he says.”

  “No. I need to get her back, she’s my sister,” I said, not wanting to get him hurt, the man having had enough sickos abusing him.

  “You wouldn’t be safe, I would, he won’t damage me; not with the amount of money he’s been offering.”

  “You don’t have the skills to get her out, I do.”

  “What you did tonight was impressive, but the Donatelli are smalltime in comparison to the Black Russian. His security is impenetrable, and for good reason. Have you heard of the stories about him?”

  “Yes.”

  “All of them?”

  “He’s the kingpin of slave traders.”

  “I wouldn’t call him a slave trader, because he doesn’t sell people, he sells meat. That butcher auctions people off to the highest bidder, regardless of whether his clients kill for sport or supper.”

  “Those tales are urban myths.”

  “They aren’t, they’re real; Sasha confirmed them.” He indicated for me to turn left.

  “My sources say differently,” I said, steering the car into the dark street.

  “Well, they’re wrong, because Sasha witnessed what he told me, it’s why he wanted to escape the Black Russian. I was helping him and his brother until those bastard Donatelli destroyed everything.” He let out a pained sigh. “Once the others are safe, we need to get Sasha back—without the Black Russian’s help. And if Sasha can pretend to his master that nothing has happened, then it’ll buy us some time, because we don’t want that butcher coming here. If he finds out what has happened to his guards he will kill Frano, Sasha has said so. And be assured, it won’t be with a bullet, it will be long and painful, something no one...” He breathed out, “...almost no one deserves to endure.”

  I glanced at him. He was now staring down at his hands, looking sad. I knew he was thinking about his rapists, Alberto and the priest definitely deserving a painful death at the Black Russian’s hands.

  “No matter how much Frano fucks me off,” I said, “what happened to those Russians isn’t his fault.”

  “It will be in the Black Russian’s eyes, and nothing will change that, so we need to kill him as well as get Sophia out.”

  “No, I need to take the Russian to the FBI, my famiglia still has unfinished business with them,” I said slowly, my brain working twice as much, making sure I didn’t trip over my lies.

  “The Black Russian is too powerful, the only way he’ll go down is through death, and I’ll be the one who’ll take him there. If he wants to bed me, I will give him the last orgasm he’ll ever have.”

  “You can’t, you’ve been abused enough.”

  “I won’t be the one dying,” he said, indicating for me to turn right.

  I steered into the dark road, wondering whether his plan was better than mine. In all likelihood it probably was, and could possibly save more lives, especially since my way wouldn’t be instantaneous, the red tape alone a major hindrance.

  Jagger pointed to my right. “Turn down there.”

  I did what he said. The road was long and straight allowing me to pick up speed. I could see that Jagger was growing more and more agitated as the minutes ticked by—probably over the possibility of his family getting hurt. He was tapping his leg, constantly looking at the odometer, no doubt wanting me to go faster, but he kept quiet, only his actions telling me to hurry up.

  About twenty minutes later we finally turned into his driveway, which practically kissed the shore, the shimmer of the moon dancing across the water. I pulled the car in front of the large Mediterranean-styled house. Only a few lights were on inside with no sign of disturbance. Jagger and I jumped out of the car, Jagger faster than me, my nerves about seeing Frano again kicking in. I shoved the feeling deep down inside of me, and ran after Jagger, grabbing his arm before he entered the house.

  “Remember,” I said quietly, “don’t tell them who I really am, then we can both get my sister back.”

  “Okay, but let me take the lead.” He freed his arm and grabbed my wrist. Still clutching the gun I’d given him, he pulled me inside. “Thierry!” he called out, heading for the main staircase. “Frano!”

  Footsteps answered, the sound coming from the passage on the other side of the dining-room. Jagger practically dragged me around the table, no doubt eager to see his brother and cousin. As he neared the door he stopped suddenly, letting out a yell. In the passage doorway sto
od Alberto. His face was swollen and red, his appearance even more hideous than usual.

  Letting go of me, Jagger lifted the gun and fired at him, causing Alberto to retreat into the passageway. Jagger ran after him. I yelled at him to stop, but he charged ahead regardless. I followed him, finding him looking at all the doors, no doubt wondering which one Alberto had disappeared into.

  “Alberto,” he yelled. “Come out!” When no one answered, he placed a hand on the left door and turned the handle.

  The door on our right shot open. Alberto barged out of it, his sudden appearance taking both me and Jagger by surprise. He plowed into Jagger, sending both of them crashing into the adjacent room, the door banging against the wall as they hit it. Jagger cried out, the momentum sending him sprawling across the floor, his grip on the gun lost. Alberto landed on top of him then lunged for the gun. I went for Alberto, but skidded to a halt as he turned the gun on me. “Back off, bitch!” he yelled, looking vicious.

  I raised my hands and took a few steps back.

  Keeping the gun trained on me, he pushed to his feet. “Up,” he said to Jagger.

  “Just shoot me,” Jagger said, his voice broken. He was lying face down, not moving.

  Alberto kicked him. “Up!”

  Jagger cried out, but still didn’t move. Alberto kicked him harder, causing Jagger to holler and curl up into a ball.

  “Stop it!” I shouted. “You don’t need to hurt him.”

  “Then make him stand.”

  Not taking my eyes off Alberto, I moved forward cautiously and bobbed down next to Jagger. “Just do as he says.”

  Jagger shook his head.

  “Then she’s dead,” Alberto said, cocking the gun.

  Before I knew what was happening, Jagger spun around and pushed me down, blanketing my body with his own.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alberto growled, “just get off her and I promise not to shoot the bitch—for now.”