Chapter 11 Matteo
MATTEO
I race as fast as I can out of the gates that surround my property, taking a right turn down the road. I told Franco to take one of my other cars and go left, so we’re split equally in the hopes of finding her walking down the streets.
I don’t know where she went, but I assume she’s looking for the nearest road to hitchhike her way to the city.
She could stay in the forest, but not too long.
She wouldn’t survive without food and water, let alone a place to sleep.
Besides, she was wearing a bathrobe the last time I saw her, and if she didn’t dress before she left, she’s bound to get cold.
If she stays outside, she could freeze to death.
Goddammit.
I can’t believe she actually escaped, and that I let it happen right underneath my nose.
How did she even manage to do that through that tiny window in the bathroom?
I never thought she’d actually try. I’d assumed the window was too narrow for her to fit through, but I guess I was wrong. I’m surprised she managed to open it, though. She’s more conniving and resourceful than I thought.
I hit the gas while I look everywhere for her, scanning the line of the forest where the road meets the trees, but I don’t see her anywhere. The more time passes, the more the unease begins to bubble to the surface.
What if I never find her again? What if she ends up in Lucio’s hands and he hurts her?
My nostrils flare, and I run my fingers through my hair, impatiently driving over the speed limit in an attempt to curtail my anger, but it doesn’t help.
Dammit, I should have blocked off that window in her bathroom too.
I glance at the forest where one of my men is searching with two of our dogs that can sniff anyone out, just in case she’s still there, but I doubt it. While I was busy showering, she had a head start, and I have no clue where she’s going.
Suddenly, I spot a car driving up ahead, veering from side to side.
It looks like the driver isn’t really paying attention to the road.
Loud music blasts through their closed windows, but it’s the ruckus in the back of the car that makes me do a double take.
Something fishy is going on there, and I’m going to find out what.
I drive closer, pushing my car to the limit.
As I drive right beside them and peer inside, the driver sings along to the music while having a smoke, but his passengers are fighting with something on the back seat …
or someone. One of them attempts to take off his pants, and his ass is visible through the window on the back seat.
But then there’s a familiar scream.
Stella.
Without thinking, I roll down my window, and the driver’s eyes connect with mine in sheer panic as I pull out a gun and point it right at him.
BANG!
The window shatters.
BANG!
His head splatters open like a watermelon with too many rubber bands around it.
The guy in the passenger seat squeals like a pig as the car begins to swerve off the road, and he grabs the steering wheel in an attempt to keep the car steady.
I drive so close that our cars are bumping into each other, and the metal begins to screech, but I do not give a flying fuck as I wreck both of our cars, driving us into the ditch.
I shoot at the passenger, but he narrowly avoids the bullet.
“Watch out!” he screams at me.
The car slams into a tree trunk at a quarter speed, destroying the engine completely. Everyone in the car is thrown about from the crash.
God, I hope she’s okay.
I hit the brakes, and my car comes to a stop right behind theirs. I immediately jump out, ready to face them. No one steals my Tesoro and gets away with it.
Stella
My head hurts, and my vision is all groggy from the impact against the tree.
It takes me a while to orient myself.
Where the hell am I? What happened?
Slowly but surely, my mind begins to string itself back together and bear witness to the onslaught around me. The car is in shambles, and the driver’s head has … exploded.
Oh God!
Two of the dudes who were seated beside me have their hands splayed all over my bathrobe, one of them still pinching my boob as they attempted to take what wasn’t theirs. I shove the one on top of me off, and he groans in pain, blood caking his head. He probably hit it on the roof of the car.
The other one opens the car door behind us, and we both fall out onto the grass beneath. I roll off him, coughing while I try to get myself together so I can escape.
But then the dude opens his eyes. “Don’t leave us. Call for help.”
He attempts to chuck his phone my way, but fails miserably.
The passenger-side door cracks open, and the guy crawls out of the car, just as disoriented as he gets up to walk around aimlessly. “Patrick got shot in the head,” he screams. “Patrick is dead. He’s dead.”
He clutches his face like he can’t believe what he just saw, then he turns around to puke against the tree we just hit.
I crawl farther away from them and the scene of the crime while the smoke begins to gather around the car.
I have to run. I have to get away before they catch me again and do God knows what else they have planned.
BANG!
The sudden gunshot has me jolting up and down on the ground as the bullet ricochets off the tree trunk near the guy’s head. He abruptly turns around after he’s done vomiting his guts out. His eyes widen as he points at something behind me. “It’s you. You shot us. Are you insane?”
The guy who was groping me gets up from the mossy ground and pulls out a knife. I crawl back even farther until I’m behind the car but then bump into something else.
I look up. Behind me are two sturdy legs along with a massive frame. It’s none other than Matteo De Silva, in all his murderous glory.
He glares down at me with those stern eyes that could make anyone fall to their knees without so much as a single word. There’s a gun in his hand, and he raises it.
BANG!
The guy who was puking against the tree falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes, bleeding profusely from the wound in his head. Dead on impact.
I shudder in disbelief.
This has to be a nightmare. It doesn’t feel real.
The one who had his fingers on my boob opens up the car door and stumbles out too, confused. He screams his lungs out when he sees the guy with the exploded head sitting behind the wheel. “What the fuck?”
“Get over there.” Matteo beckons him, pointing his gun at the other side of the car where his friend is crawling on the ground.
He raises his hands, and with a quivering lip, he says, “Oh my God, please don’t kill me. Please, please, I’m begging you.”
“Do what I say,” Matteo barks.
The guy immediately walks to the other side of the car to his buddy and helps pick him up.
“What were you doing with her?” Matteo asks.
“Nothing, sir,” they reply in unison. “We were taking her to Zara like she asked.”
“Yeah, she was a hitchhiker,” the other one says.
But when they throw a filthy glance at me, I pull my bathrobe together and tightly wrap it around my body in an effort to conceal my nudity. I can still feel their dirty fingers all over me, and it makes me want to vomit.
“No,” Matteo says. “You touched her.”
He points his gun at the dude on the left.
“No one touches what’s mine.”
BANG!
Matteo kills the third dude on the spot, and he slumps down onto the ground, blood splashing everywhere.
The last remaining guy squeals. “Please don’t kill me.” He drops down headfirst into the dirt, fingers clutched together, praying for mercy from Matteo.
“You tried to take her. You tried to take what belongs to me. She’s my wife. Mine, do you hear me? No one who touches my wife lives to tell the tale.”
BANG!
The last one flops to the ground too, his hands still clutched together as if he’s praying to God for all eternity, even beyond death.
And I can’t help but stare at the bloodshed in front of me and the ease with which Matteo ripped them off the face of the earth just because they dared to take me … Just because they tried to hurt me and take me for themselves.
I clutch my own legs, trying to maintain my emotions as they overpower me.
A single tear rolls down my cheeks, but it’s not because I’m sad for their deaths.
It’s because I’m grateful that Matteo was here to kill them for me.
Matteo
I kneel in front of Stella, wondering how on earth I could ever make this right. She doesn’t deserve this. They fucking hurt her because she escaped, and I let it happen. Fuck, I feel so guilty.
I place my hand on her shoulder, but she winces, still scared from whatever happened to her in the back of that grimy old car.
Goddammit.
I should have kept them alive just so I could torture them again. I should have cut off their balls for even attempting to touch her. But I can never take away the memory that now stains her mind, and for that, I will never forgive myself.
She’s breathing louder and faster with each breath, panic taking hold of her soul. Her eyes skid toward my gun when I try to pull her in for a hug, and her body grows rigid.
She’s scared … scared of me, and I don’t ever want her to be.
“I won’t hurt you, Tesoro,” I tell her.
But she still shudders and shakes her head like she doesn’t believe me.
I pull out my gun and throw it as far away as possible. She looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, and I gently cup her face in my hand. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.”
Suddenly, she falls into my chest, hugging me so tightly that it steals the words from my lips. God, I’ve never felt such warmth.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mutters again and again.
I place my hand on her back. “Don’t. Don’t ever thank me for doing the right thing, the one thing I should have done all along. I should have protected you.”
She buries her face in my chest as a few tears escape, and I slowly pat her on the back.
“They touched you, didn’t they?” I ask, the question too painful to even think about.
She softly nods, and my worst fears immediately come alive.
Fuck.
I breathe out a sigh and close my eyes, begging the gods to take this pain away from her … begging for forgiveness. Only she will be able to forgive me, and I’ve never felt such guilt in my life.
I have to fix this. But how?
I get up from the ground with her in my arms, carrying her all the way back to my car, which is damaged beyond belief.
A small price to pay to save my wife from absolute ruin.
After I put her down in the back seat, I pull a blanket from my trunk and gently drag it over her, wrapping her in it tightly. Then I tip up her chin.
“Let’s go home, Tesoro.”
She doesn’t respond, but I don’t need any words from her to know what she really wants. Safety. Security. A promise that I’ll protect her from now on, even from myself.
I sink behind the wheel and turn on the engine. Then make the call. “Franco, I’ve got her.”