Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (14 page)

“What do you mean? I’m having fun,” I admitted.

“I should never have kept you here. I’m only making it worse for myself. It hurts so bad to have you so close, but still so far away. I’ve imagined . . . all of this … all of these years, having you with me. I want you to be mine, but I’m fooling myself,” he choked out the sensitive words, shaking his head while rubbing his chin. He walked to the helm again, turning on the motor.

“Wait,” I said, returning to his side. “Let’s finish our dance.” I pulled him to the middle of the boat, swaying in each other’s arms as the boat rocked in the swell of sea.

*****

The serving crew had our lunch prepared and waiting to serve when we returned. After freshening up, we sat and watched the other boats sailing around the region. It was so serene. My fears of being seasick were unfounded, and I found I loved the ocean. We talked about all his international travel for fishing. His favorite was being in this precise location. He loved being able to fish and swim under a blazing sun. With a tinge of jealousy, I wondered if he took any women to his other adventures, already knowing he wasn’t bringing women to the Dominican Republic.

“Want to swim?” Shay asked with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Um, no,” I said. I hadn’t realized the enormity of open waters. When he told me to dress for swimming, I couldn’t imagine the depths of this spot.

“Why?”

“I can’t swim.”

“You what?”

“I can’t swim. Never learned. Don’t care to. I’ll just be the girl who dips her toe in the ocean, but never goes above waist.

“You’re wearing your suit, right?”

“Yeah”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

“Um, you can teach me in the ginormous pool where I can plant my feet on a solid bottom.”

“Please,” he pulled my hands to standing.

“If I drown, then I will haunt you.”

“If you drown, then I will go with you.”

“Morbid, Romeo,” I answered.

He held my hand as we went to the main deck. The deck hand placed a ladder on the back of the yacht so we could climb back up. Brady dove into the water. The warm water splashed in tiny droplets as I watched him quickly resurface. He looked so damned sexy all wet and glistening in the sun. His eyes gleamed brightly as he waited for me to jump in. I took off my dress, and saw him absorb my image from top to bottom. His bottom lip quivered as he looked back up to my face.

“Just jump,” he ordered after what seemed like hours of waiting.

“Okay, but you’ve been warned,” I said before leaping into the water, sinking deeper than I expected. ‘Heavy should float’, I thought as I tried to resurface. I felt his arm embrace me and pull me to him. When the rush of water stopped cascading over my head, I pulled my curls away from my face.

“Just as I thought,” he started.

“What?”

“You look like a mermaid,” he finalized with a grin. I blanched, looking away.

“What’s wrong?”

“You said I look like a mermaid. My mom used to call me that. When she’d wash my hair, I would float in the bath water. My curls would spread wildly around me, and she’d call me ‘sirena’,” I recounted as we bobbed in the water.

He held me tight, pressing his forehead to mine as I felt his legs scissor in the water to hold us up. Our moment was wrong. It was too intimate, cutting deeply into me. This was only the second day with Shay and he made me feel so nostalgic and nurtured. I tried to pull away, but the need to feel love from someone who knew her, my mother, and memories of long ago kept me locked in his arms.

“Chella had a way with words,” he called her by her nickname. He was breaking and mending my heart at the same time. I got a hold of my bearings, pushing him away to keep a physical distance. I needed to rebuild the fort around my heart, which would keep Shay at a lengthy distance.

“Teach me to swim,” I said, smiling gently.

*****

“When are we going back to shore?” I asked during a break from swimming. I was wrapped in a towel, drying off and drinking copious amounts of water while Shay had a snack. I couldn’t stomach anything to eat. Spending time on the water made me seasick and I needed to relax.

“Why? This is great,” he emphasized by spreading his arms to encompass the atmosphere.

“I thought we were planning to talk to the police today. Don’t they want my report?”

“There’s no rush,” he stated emphasizing his lack of urgency. “I thought we could spend the night on the water since it’s so calm. The weather will be clear. Don’t you want to be on the water at night with the stars shining down on us?” He asked.

‘Us? No!’ I thought. I want to be under the starry night with my husband Matt on his yacht, which I’d recently learned about.

“I can’t stay here. I have no clothes. I have to shower and remove the salt water from my hair and skin. This hair does not do well without hair product,” I informed. The serenity I felt was leaving me, and annoyance was leaching in.

He chuckled and added, “There are things for you in your room.”

“My room?” I asked, furrowing my brow. He nodded. “So you had this planned for us?” I asked.

His austere business man face indicated he had made a decision and nothing would move him to change his mind. I had no choice. I was at his mercy, considering he owned everything and was in charge of the direction of this trip.

“Well, if there are things in my room, I’ll just go see.” I said.

He smiled as he pressed a call button on his captain’s chair. Within seconds, as I walked toward the stairs to lower deck, a crew member smiled and turned to escort me to my room.

I was given one of the spacious Master suites with a large bathroom. Sure enough, the bathroom contained toiletries and hair products for my curls. They looked expensive. How he managed to acquire them on such quick notice, I would never know, but I was happy to see them at the ready. I opened one of the small closet doors beside the built in flat-screen TV and found a couple of dresses within. The clothes weren’t from the main house. I pulled drawers and found several pieces of undergarments with tags and hygiene strips and another swimsuit folded neatly in rows on the velvet lined drawer bottom. Everything was in my size. The price tags were equally as astronomical as the clothes back at the main house. I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling the items weren’t a spur-of-the-moment acquisition.

The impressive details of the room would have made for a lovely honeymoon suite for me and Matt. I admonished myself for not letting him take me to a honeymoon destination. We could have been in his yacht, which I didn’t even know he owned, making love on our large bed. We never had the chance to experience all of the things he brought to our marriage. I brought no property, contributing only the large salary I earned from his company. My feelings of inadequacy made me feel angry at myself and at him for retaining the truth about his wealth. For a split second, I felt ineffective as a career woman, grieving the delay in finding myself and inability to contribute properly to my newly created family.

Finally having a solitary moment, I thought of my handsome husband. As I made my way to the shower, I suppressed the negative and angry thoughts because they didn’t matter anymore. He and I weren’t together by circumstance. We would be together in a couple of days. I was only with Shay to appease him and ensure my future with Matt. The thought helped me deal with my predicament.

As the water pelted my body, I traced around the places where Matt touched me. Whether rough or gentle, his hands elicited the same response—need. I ached for him to never stop touching me. When he’d grip my full breasts in his large hands, he’d groan primitively, sparking my arousal and craving more of him. His fingers would twist my nipples until they felt impossibly hard. I once thought I would orgasm by his pinches alone. I could still feel the sensation long after his hands moved onto another spot.

Matt’s hands would glide down to clutch my ass, pulling me against his groin. I’d rise onto my toes, making myself taller to match up our torsos for the delicious union I desperately wanted. My heart would jump with each squeeze and tug of my ass. My clit would collide with his hardened cock before it would slip into the triangle between my thighs, slightly stroking against my clit. As I felt him try to enter my pussy, he’d bite my lips, pulling them gently apart until I looked up to catch his gaze. His brown eyes would darken with hunger for me. I wouldn’t be able to sustain the stare, the connection was too deep. The intensity of my feelings for him made me think I wouldn’t survive losing him, so I thought I would be better off without him.

When I’d stop our connection, Matt would back me against the tiled shower for stability, knowing he would taste me. He didn’t have to claim oral as his favorite activity because he gave it often and freely. I would lean back against the cool shower wall, spreading my legs to let him open me up to receive his eager tongue. After lowering down to access my clit, I’d watch him lose himself inside my pussy: licking, tasting, fingering, and nipping. My hands would run softly through his wet hair, lovingly keeping him at the right spot. He always knew what I needed most.

The combination of water, steam, heat and our bodies would make it unbearable to take any more attention on my pussy. I needed him in my mouth, encouraging him to stand by pulling him up his skull. I’d press him against the wall, and slide down his body as I touched every inch of his skin. Matt’s body: a work of art—tan, tall and muscular. His cock, long and thick, would pulsate under my touch, inviting my mouth. As I knelt before him, I’d grip him hard like he liked. As I licked and sucked him, he would groan and gasp. Our eyes would lock and linger on each other as he panted and bit his bottom lip.

With my eyes, I’d plead for him to continue to love me and want me, wanting the link between us to never end. I’d get into a rhythm of taking him in and out of my mouth deeply until I thought I couldn’t take any more. Matt would set a pace with his thrusts, taking care not to go too fast or too deep. I loved when he held me in place, snaking his fingers within my hair and gently holding my scalp. When his hands would tighten around my head, I would know he was ready to come. He’d warn me of his impending explosion, knowing full well I would finish him off by consuming every bit of his release.

Once the thoughts of Matt started, I couldn’t finish revisiting the memories. As I scrubbed my body, I thought of the many times we made love in the shower or the bathtub. The last time was so erotic. My hand drifted down to touch my pussy. I hadn’t had an orgasm since we reunited on Saturday. My hands could never replace his long, thick fingers, which brought me infinite pleasure. I would melt into his touch. His touch felt like shock waves, which pulsated throughout my body, pooled at my heart, and surged to my clit.

I touched my breasts, feeling them swollen and aching for him. With one hand on my pearled nipple, and the other on my clit, I stroked and rubbed vigorously. I refrained from crying out when the body quaking orgasm racked through me. After my release, I slid down the wall, crying and praying all would be fine upon my return to Boston. It had to be fine. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to recover from the loss of him.

It was best to put him out of my mind. Friday would soon arrive, and only time would tell how we would recover from my absence and time with Shay.

Another full day without her was a slow, agonizing torture of my soul. My heart felt like it was bleeding out slowly, and nothing would change my mood. When my emotional defenses were down, I’d make too many rash decisions. Insomnia kept me up late, and my body would startle awake wanting to hear word of her return. As soon as I woke up, I called Pentagon’s real estate agent, Devin Roe. I told him to meet me at my apartment, wishing to put it up for sale immediately for the best price possible. I would no longer be able to live there knowing it was the place where all our problems started. Perla was ill at ease being there. She was so tentative to set foot in the apartment when I prepared for our wedding ceremony. I noticed how she looked around anxiously, as if remembering our fight. I didn’t want the bad memories to come between us.

Once I finished talking to Devin, I called Gill and requested he set up an executive moving company to be at the ready to move my clothing and office, leaving the remaining furniture for staging my place. We could live in her apartment while we searched for a large pied-a-terre in Boston to live during the work week. Because my parents were not happy with my choices, I decided to find them a cooperative townhome close to our property. Perla’s comfort in our home was a priority, and my mother had expressed her disinterest in embracing my wife. There would be no way we would have a comfortable living arrangement with them and Perla. Sonia could barely stand it, and they liked her. Perla was already hesitant to live in my home because it was a marital home I shared with Sonia. I doubted my mother would make Perla comfortable in our marital home. After our discussion in the kitchen, I called a real estate agent, who produced some showings for my parents late in the afternoon. When they begrudgingly agreed to a three bedroom townhome in an exclusive subdivision near both Stella’s and my home, I signed off on all the paperwork for the offer, closing, and the deed to list their revocable living trust. Move in would be within thirty days.

Perla’s search team had nothing to report. They couldn’t find a source or location of origin for the fax received by Pentagon. All the clues led to dead ends and the case was becoming colder by the second. I couldn’t trust she would return on Friday afternoon. I wondered the significance of her being gone for five days. There was no word or sign of Brady, and I felt in my gut they were together. Their mutual disappearances were connected. None of the other Pentagon men have been able to reach Brady, and he was unusually out of touch.

Despite getting so much accomplished, I couldn’t stop thinking of Perla. The hardest part was the worry for her safety. If ripping my hair out of my scalp would bring me relief from the dull ache and fear in the pit of my stomach, I would feel pain somewhere other than my heart. The worst times were when updating her father, who was pretty calm and patient for an elderly man. He claimed he believed in his heart his daughter was alive and safe. I took comfort in his Zen attitude and tried to comport myself in the same manner.

I called Ken, “Tell me something,” I pled when he answered.

“I was just going to call you, Sir. There’s been a development,”

“What kind of development?” I eagerly interrupted.

“Brady’s plane has returned without him. However, the occupants were law enforcement and a prisoner.”

“What?”

“They won’t give us any details, but the prisoner was a woman, which is all the information we were able to glean from workers at the airport,” he responded.

“How can we find out who it was and where they came from?”

“They confirmed it wasn’t Brady’s usual pilots or attendants. We do have their names. After they touched down, they entered a van which escorted the crew to the regional airport. It appears each of them took various flights to separate locations. We don’t know their final destinations,” he reported.

“Are you following those leads?”

“Of course. We’re tracking where each of them ended up. Whether they were final destinations or if they took a connecting flight somewhere else.”

“So is his plane stationed at his hangar?”

“Yes, sir. They turned everything over to the management of the hangar, and just walked off. Law enforcement took the prisoner in a Federal van.” We saw footage of their landing and transfer to their vehicles,” he finished. The case was getting more curious.

“Will law enforcement tell us anything?”

“They claim it’s an on-going investigation and they would not release any information indefinitely.” He said, continuing, “Our computer guys will try to see if they can find out more information. A couple of guys claim they can inquire with some contacts within the bureau,” he informed.

I inhaled deeply, calming myself down.

“But the woman wasn’t Perla, right?” I thought about the risk of criminal prosecution for the embezzlement claim her ex-husband threatened her with. I wondered if there was a connection. If she was formally accused and arrested for it, she could have been detained by Federal law enforcement to answer for those crimes. However, her divorce and repayment agreement settled the matter and kept the sordid ordeal confidential. Her ex-husband wouldn’t call the authorities on her.

Ken paused then answered, “No, sir. It wasn’t Perla. The staff knows what Perla looks like from the pictures we’ve left, and they have it displayed within the offices and in the hangar. Our source saw the woman, who was a redhead and more fair in complexion than Feather,” I nodded, knowing Perla wasn’t in criminal trouble.

“Find out what you can. Give me something more to hold onto.” A call on the other line interrupted. “I’ll talk to you later,” and I hung up, connecting the other call.

“Matt, it’s Carson. Any news?” I’ve been keeping everyone apprised of the events. At the very least, I’ve been in communication with Carson and Turner because of Perla’s strong connection to both of them. Besides, Turner was Perla’s attorney and should be involved in her affairs. To help me focus on the search, Carson reported any helpful news to Perla’s friend, Chelsea. I was too afraid to inform Chelsea. On more than one occasion she lambasted me for not keeping Perla safe. I couldn’t take her guilt trip.

“Nothing new to report on,” I said. Carson groaned. “We’re still working to find her regardless of the note stating she will return Friday afternoon. My team is doing everything possible to find her before then, but it’s past forty-eight-hours since her disappearance, and most authorities claim it would be even more difficult to find her with the case getting colder by the minute,” I finished. Carson listened attentively. “We just had a curious development and I was wondering if you two would know anything about it,” I finished. When there was silence, I summarized what Ken reported.

“Turner and I have no idea what the connection to a red-headed female could be. We didn’t know of Brady’s existence before you. When I met Perla in school, Brady, or rather Shay, wasn’t in her life. I can’t add anything,” Carson paused. “Before Perla started working at Pentagon, she gave us a flash drive of information. She wanted Turner to have it for safe keeping, in case anything happened to her . . .”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it on Monday when I called you?”

“Listen, I was out of my mind with worry. The damned flash drive was the least of our worries, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for us not remembering,” he said, adding, “Turner is having the flash drive duplicated. He will have it delivered to your team”

“No. I want to have someone get it. Ken will pick it up from Turner’s office,” I said.

“Very well. Keep me posted. I will everyone know. We have all been passing news to the rest of her family and friends.”

“Thanks . . . And Carson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being a great friend to Perla, and for being there for me. I don’t know who in my inner circle to trust anymore, and it’s great to know you’re helping as much as you can,” I finished. Carson cleared his throat before responding.

“I’m only doing this for Perla. She is very much in love with you, you know. She’s only wants to keep you and your interests safe, so for her sake we’re providing you with this information and hope it helps,” he concluded, and hung up.

Perla entrusting her attorney with information for safe keeping in case of a future attempt on her life meant she didn’t trust me. I shouldn’t have entered her life. Pentagram was not worth losing her. I jumped from the edge of her bed and ran to the bathroom to heave. I’d never before experienced such emotion leading to a violent physical reaction. I hated to think what I would go through if she were harmed or worse, killed. ‘Would I survive knowing she no longer existed?’ The thought was too hard to process, and I called my sister to calm me down. At the very least, Stella would always listen. I no longer trusted my friends; even Zipper was a possible threat to my happiness with Perla.

“Mattie, how are you?” She sighed upon picking up.

“I’m a wreck. I’m a fuckin’ mess and I need you to be the mature one here and talk me off this ledge.”

“You got word she’s coming home Friday, right?” She asked, and I grunted a ‘yes’. “She’ll be home soon, and you two can live your lives as you two planned,” she stated.

It sounded so simple, yet I knew in the pit of my stomach it was not the case. There was no way Perla would just walk back into my life and carry on as we did on Monday morning when I left her at the front door of Pentagon’s headquarters.

“I need you to help me by talking to Ma and Dad about Perla and convince them she’s good for me. There are going to be a lot of changes coming for all of us, and they’ll blame this relationship. This is all me. I need to proceed this way. You know how I get,” I finished. She listened intently and said, ‘yes.’

I explained all of my plans, and I had to stop her each time she had an objection or advice. She knew better than to try to challenge my final plans. At the end of the conversation, I felt better revealing everything to someone else. And Stella promised to support me. All I could do was wait it out.