My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 1 (10 page)

I lay down on the bed and closed my
eyes, tears breaking free. After what felt like forever, I finally
began to drift, wanting to escape into sleep’s forgiving
arms.

A bang woke me. I looked up to see Jagger
entering the room. He was now dressed in loose-fitting linen pants
which hung off his hips, while his button-down shirt was left open,
displaying his beautiful torso: a slim but muscular body. He
frowned at me, then headed for the bathroom, coming out a few
seconds later.

“
Where’s
Honey?”

Still groggy from sleep, I sat up,
trying to get my thoughts together. It almost felt like what had
happened to Honey was a nightmare, and now I was waking up to a
beautiful daydream, the man before me surreal.

“
Where’s Honey?!” he
yelled.

I jolted, everything returning in a
rush, nothing a dream, just cruel reality. “Alberto took her,” I
said.

He turned to the guard. “Where did
Alberto take her?”

“
I couldn’t stop them,
boss, Frano’s the don; he said I answer only to him.”

“
Where has he taken
her?!”

The guard flinched. “She’s on the
flight to Spain.”

Jagger started shaking his head
rapidly. “No, no, she can’t be; I told Frano she was mine.” He
brought his hands to his head. “I told him I loved her. I told
him!”

The guard shrank back as Jagger
stormed towards him, but Jagger kept on walking, heading out of the
room and up the staircase. Jagger yelled out for Alberto and Frano.
Things went quiet for a moment, then crashing sounds started up
followed by another man’s voice, Alberto shouting at Jagger to back
off.

More shouting erupted, then Jagger came
tumbling down the staircase, Alberto barging after him. I watched
through the doorway as Jagger went to push up, the man yelling out
as Alberto kicked him in the stomach. The guard said something to
Alberto. Alberto shoved him aside and continued to advance on
Jagger, who was scampering backwards, trying to get away from him.
Alberto went to kick him again, but Jagger rolled to the side,
avoiding his big boot. As he pushed to his feet, Alberto grabbed
him from behind, flinging Jagger onto the bed. I quickly shifted
out of the way as Alberto launched himself on top of Jagger,
jamming a meaty arm across his neck.

My eyes shot to the door as Frano ran
in, yelling at Alberto: “Get off him!”

Alberto glanced over his shoulder. “He
attacked me!”

“
He took Honey!” Jagger
yelled.

“
You knew that was going
to happen,” Frano said, his glare focused on Jagger.

“
No, she’s
mine!”

“
You think every woman is
yours.”

“
Honey is, so get her
back!”

“
I can’t, she’s halfway to
Spain.”

“
No!” Jagger yelled,
struggling
to get free from Alberto.

Alberto pressed his arm harder into
Jagger, making him choke.

“
Let him go, Alberto!”
Frano yelled.

Alberto pushed up, then, as
though he’d changed his mind, he grabbed Jagger and yanked him
around, pushing him face-first into the bed. He climbed on top of
him, growling “
Puttano
,” the masculine version of whore, although I’d heard it
used as a gay slur before.

“
Get off me!” Jagger
yelled, the man’s face panicked as Alberto started rubbing his
groin against him.

“
The
puttano
is enjoying my fat cock,” Alberto
laughed.

“
Get off him!” Frano
yelled.

Alberto jammed a meaty hand over Jagger’s
head and pushed up, then grabbed the back of Jagger’s pants and
ripped them down, exposing him. “You’re not made to fuck women,
Gabriel, you’re made to get fucked by men...” He smiled, the
expression malicious. “...especially priests.”

Jagger spun around and leapt at
him, his expression wild, almost crazy. Alberto shoved him back
onto the bed, then grabbed his own crotch. “Pretty
puttano
wants a man not a
woman.”

Jagger leapt at him again. Alberto
grabbed him, putting him in a stranglehold. Jagger’s face started
turning red, his hands grappling at Alberto’s monstrous arm, the
look on his face now desperate to get free, his slim build no match
for Alberto’s bulk.

“
Let him go!” Frano
yelled. “Now! Or I’ll shoot you in the foot!”

Alberto’s hand moved to Jagger’s cock,
giving it a squeeze. Jagger yelled out, his eyes bulging in horror.
Alberto shoved him onto the bed then turned on Frano, yelling at
him in Italian for siding with Jagger.

Frano swung at him, hitting the
brute in the face. Alberto staggered back a step, then righted
himself. “I am your brother!” he yelled, spitting blood at Frano’s
feet. “You support me, not that
puttano
!”

“
He’s
famiglia
!”

“
A cousin.”

“
He’s still
famiglia
. You don’t touch blood
sexually, and he’s not a
puttano
!”

“
A
puttan-
a
then,” Alberto said, emphasizing the
feminine
a
used for a woman.

“
Show some respect!”
Fran
o
yelled.

“
Respect is earned,” Alberto
turned and spat in Jagger’s direction, “not a
birthright.”

I looked over at Jagger as he curled into
a ball. He was still exposed below, but he didn’t seem to notice,
the man lost in his own world as his cousins continued to argue. I
shifted over to him, not sure what to do. Jagger ... or was it
Gabriel, looked like he was hurting badly, Alberto’s abuse
shocking. No matter how much it horrified me, I was prepared for
the women to be attacked to the extent that I knew it was going to
happen, but I wasn’t prepared for one of their own to be treated in
the same manner, and especially not a man, not sexually anyway. I
was starting to think that Honey was right: that Jagger was being
forced to train the women.

“
Are you alright?” I placed a
hand on his back.

He cu
rled up tighter, his voice soft:
“Don’t touch me.”

I removed my hand and looked over at
Frano as Alberto stormed out of the room, shooting off Italian
curse words. Frano pointed at me. “Take her out,” he snapped at the
guard.

The guard headed my way,
indicating for me to get up as Frano sat down next to Jagger. I
rose as Frano started talking softly to Jagger in Italian, sounding
like a father trying to soothe a hurt child, telling him that he
wasn’t a
puttano
and that Alberto would be disciplined for what he’d
done.

I glanced behind me as I neared the
door, what Frano was saying appearing to be getting through to
Jagger, the man uncurling, his eyes locked onto his cousin as
though Frano was a lifeline.

I entered my cell and headed for the
bathroom, ignoring the clank of the door as the guard locked me in.
I turned on the basin tap and splashed water over my face, wanting
to wash away everything that had happened, but the image of Alberto
on top of Jagger came back, followed by Alberto raping Honey. I had
desperately wanted to help Honey, even Jagger, but all I could do
was watch, observing like a fucking CIA agent. I wasn’t CIA, I was
FBI. I couldn’t sit around and wait while people got hurt, that
wasn’t me, yet how could I do anything with them armed to the tits
and me showing mine? A bullet moved faster than a punch, and if I
did manage to take them out, what next? How would that get me to
the Black Russian? It wouldn’t. Instead, I had to shut my mouth and
keep my violence locked away for both my own sake and the people
who were relying on me.

“
Don’t make a sound,” a
low voice rumbled behind me.

I jolted, so wrapped up in my thoughts
that I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. I turned around slowly, my
eyes going wide at the gun pointed at my face. The guard stood
before me, his jaw set, his dark eyes hard, his hooked nose making
him look more Arabic than Italian.

“
Get on your knees,”
Federico said.

I held out my hands, my heart thumping
like crazy. “Please don’t do this.”

He tapped my head with the barrel of
the gun. “I need you on your knees, so do it quick.”

I lowered myself slowly.

“
Unzip me,” he
said.

I shook my head.

He pressed the gun into my forehead.
“Unzip me.”

With shaking hands I reached for his fly,
then pulled it down. He smacked my hands away, my eyes bulging as
he slipped his cock out.

“
I’ll bite it off if you
force me,” I said.

“
I know...” he moved the
gun around to the side of my head, “Rita Kovak.”

I froze at my name.

He stared down at me. “Do you know
what the mafia do to FBI agents?”

Episode 2
Coming Soon

About
the Author

Marita A. Hansen
is from New
Zealand. She loves writing, creating art, watching and
participating in football, and running. She ran her first marathon
in 2012 and is now planning on completing many more. For more
information on Marita check out these links:

Author
Facebook Page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Marita-A-Hansen/113130742120676

My
Masters’ Nightmare Facebook Page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/My-Masters-Nightmare/167338690126962

Blog
Site:

http://maritaahansen.blogspot.co.nz/

Goodreads’ Author Page:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5129673.Marita_A_Hansen

Artslant
Page:

http://www.artslant.com/global/artists/show/74433-marita-hansen

Twitter
Name: @MaritaAHansen

Other books by Marita A. Hansen

Behind
the Hood

Graffiti
Heaven

Behind
the Tears

Behind
the Lens

Don’t
Peek (The Diaries of a Teenage Girl)