My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 7 Connections by Marita A. Hansen

snaked out, touching his ass. He spun around and shouted at
the culprit, the woman shrinking in her seat. His face went all
strange again, as though the drugs were taking him someplace else.
He pushed past the women and headed onto the empty dance floor,
stopping to look up at the ceiling. I watched as his body swayed to
the music. He wasn’t dancing, just moving without thought, the
drugs probably controlling his body. It was kind of fascinating to
watch, plus his expression had me transfixed. Not sexually of
course, he wasn’t my type, but he appeared haunted, especially with
the dark rings under his eyes. He looked like a beautiful haunted
doll swaying in a breeze. He started pawing at the air as though he
was trying to pick something off a tree, then he closed his eyes.
Without warning, he slumped to the floor.
    I shot out from where I was hiding.
Other people also went to his aid. I knelt down beside him,
checking his pulse. Thankfully, his heartbeat was still going
strong. I glanced over at the drug dealer, who was quickly making
an exit.
    A bar patron slapped Jagger’s
cheek. “Wake up,” he said.
    Jagger didn’t respond.
    “ He’s a friend of mine,” I said.
“Can you help me take him to my car?”
    “ Sure.”
    We lifted him up, each of us
taking a side, then headed for the door, dragging his feet behind
him. The patrons of the dingy establishment parted for us. I
refrained from smiling, thinking this was too good to be true.
Jagger was much more important than Thierry, plus if I handed him
to the Padre the prick would stay out of my room.
    We headed out into the warm night,
dragging Jagger to my car. The people on the street didn’t pay us
attention, probably because we looked like a couple of mates
helping a drunken friend. It was just lucky Irene hadn’t stuck
around long enough to see him.
    We turned down the alleyway I’d parked
in, and leaned Jagger up against my Audi. The guy helping me held
Jagger upright, while I opened the backdoor. He then helped me put
Jagger inside. I said thanks, then shut the door and got into the
car as the man walked off.
    I pulled out my cell and phoned Dora.
“Swiper has Jagger,” I said, referring to a Dora the Explorer
character. I had watched the program with Mini-Dad—my four-year-old
brother—so I could find lines to tease my sister with.
    “ What?” Dora said, sounding
confused.
    “ I have Jagger D’Angelo in my
car.”
    “ Y ou have Jagger!” she squealed. “I’ll be
there in a few minutes.”
    She hung up before I could tell
her not to come. I stuffed my cell in my pocket and glanced back at Jagger,
who was still out cold. I frowned, noticing the bruising around his
throat. It looked like someone had tried to strangle him. I got out
of the car and opened the backdoor, pushing his shirt aside. More
bruising colored his skin, giving me the impression he’d been
beaten up.
    “ What th e fuck happened to you?” I said to
the unconscious man.
    “ Are y ou molesting him?” Dora’s voice came
from behind me.
    I pushed out of the car. “Hell no, he’s
not my type. I just noticed he’s a bit fucked up. He has bruises
all over his body.” I moved out of the way so she could
see.
    She poked her head in the car. “Oh,
the poor baby.”
    “ Poor baby my ass, he’s a
D’Angelo.”
    “ As long as he’s not Frano, I
don’t care. Jagger didn’t hurt our family; instead it looks like
someone hurt him. Look at the strangulation marks.”
    “ I’d say it was the Padre . He probably held Jagger down by the throat as he fucked
him.”
    She pulled back, looking shocked. “You’re
kidding?”
    “ No, he was torturing Jagger
downstairs at the House of Whores.”
    “ And you want to take Jagger
back to that monster?” she said, her eyes wide with
horror.
    “ I wasn’t planning on getting
Jagger; I just happened to run into him. He passed out, so I had
someone help me get him here. I told them I was a
friend.”
    “ Well, you can’t let the Padre