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

“That’s two questions, Perlita. My, for someone who is a numbers person, you sure don’t know the meaning of one question,” she smirked. I took a deep breath, restraining the angry feelings she elicited from me.

“Your husband and Brady were thrilled you got the job at Liberty. They waited patiently until you learned the inner workings of the business before approaching you. They kept a detailed report on you. They’re shrewd businessmen. The texts and emails they exchanged about how they would get you to help them purchase the Inn. Brady planned your seduction until divine intervention sent you to Dr. Keene. Brady was livid, trying every means, short of having your husband taken out, to keep him away from you. But his loyalty to Dr. Keene kept him from doing something heinous and beneath his new found social and financial status,” she informed.

I was appalled and frightened for Matt and myself. Could Brady really have harmed Matt?

“Little did they know, I was even more impatient for you to get with Brady. You foiled my plan by going with the doctor. I didn’t know what to do because the point was for you to get with Brady. I mean his
modus
operandi
is to find a foolish female within the company to seduce, and you were no longer an option. How was I to exact my revenge?” She asked coyly.

“When we first attempted to get you, we had no idea your boyfriend had a security detail on you. Your husband was so clever to never communicate through Pentagon’s network. Eric had to backtrack and found out about your driver and two guards and their security schedule. Your doctor had covered all his bases. I was not pleased by the interception.” She said.

My mind swirled with the things she knew as ‘dead woman’ while I lived in complete oblivion. I looked out the window, drowning out the sound of her voice. She must’ve realized I wasn’t paying attention and she snapped me out of my reverie, preferring to think of Matt.

“Thinking of Brady?”

“No! I’m thinking about my husband. I miss him. He’s the only man I’ve ever thought about.”

“My, how quickly you could move on from your lengthy marriage to my brother.”

“Let’s not revisit why your brother and I are no longer together. Tell me, will I ever get back to my new husband?”

Aida stopped speaking and looked out the window. I pressed too much. She gave me more information than she wanted to share. I sat back and reflected on all the information she provided me. I didn’t want to spend my last moments with Aida. I didn’t want to lose my life with the woman who incited all of my problems. She set off these turn of events, leading me to this moment. A large tear streamed down my cheek, feeling it when it dropped coldly on my cleavage.

When the pilot announced our initial descent, he stated we would go through Customs. A ray of hope shined on me for a moment. Without a passport, I wouldn’t be permitted to enter. I could alert the agent of my captivity, and be detained. I wanted to be separated from them. we could be detained separately and give me the opportunity to expose my abductors. I didn’t dare look out the window for fear of plummeting to my death, but it would have been better than the scenarios I considered Aida would put me through.

*****

As soon as we taxied to the spot where we’d deplane, Eric came forward and removed the bindings on my wrists. My arms ached from the tension I placed on my muscles throughout the flight. I rubbed my arms, wrists and shoulders, which bore the sign of imprisonment. I itched to grab my cellphone out of my large tote, but Eric grabbed it before I could make a desperate call to Matt.

“We will be going through customs. Do not make any statements or moves to alert the officers of anything. If you do, there will be consequences for you.” Aida stated.

Eric stepped out of the plane and held out his hand for her. Tony pushed me forward. Eric held out his hand for me to step down and I refused, holding my arms around my waist. The oppressive heat made my pants cling to my skin. My curls tightened and shrunk within minutes while we waited for Tony.

When Tony exited, he grabbed my arm, tucking it tightly underneath his arm like a romantic couple. The pilots removed luggage from underneath the plane and gave it to a couple of porters. There were four suitcases of various sizes, colors, and patterns.

We entered the small facility, presenting ourselves to the customs agent. I waited nervously for questions to be directed at me. I saw Eric approach the officer, taking his hand in greeting. I detected an exchange of bills, rolled up to discretely fit in the palm of the agent’s hand. The agent softly curled his hand into a large fist, which he slipped into his trousers. Pushed forward by Tony, the agent commenced his interview.

“Name?” The agent asked in Spanish.

“Perla Mercurio?” I answered truthfully. He looked down, and I peered over to see he had a passport in his possession.

“Date of birth?” He asked, looking up at me. I gave him my birthdate.

“Purpose of visit?” I looked around, catching the eye of the other officer reviewing the contents of one of the luggage. My tote bag beside it.

“Vacation.”

“Did anyone pack your bag or ask you to bring a bag you didn’t pack?” He motioned over to the luggage. My eyes furrowed, and I looked over to see the array of summery clothing contained within. I heard a feminine throat clearing. Despite the fear I may have been transporting contraband and it would be Aida’s way of getting me arrested and convicted of a crime in a third-world country, I answered with a lie.

“No. I packed it myself.” I stated with my eyes cast downward. The answer must have been satisfactory because the agent zipped and pulled it off the table.

“Welcome to the Dominican Republic,” he offered with a terse smile.

The agent handed me the passport. I’d never been to my mother’s home country, and this wasn’t the way I wanted to visit for the first time. I opened the passport to see my picture from my Pentagon security badge. The passport contained all the pertinent information, which accurately reflected my identity. Even my signature appeared inside the laminated page. How they acquired this official document without my participation, I may never know. Eric sidled beside me and subtly removed the passport from my hands. I looked over and watched him place it in his breast pocket. He looked stoically forward while Aida gave her answers.

Aida responded to the agent in an exaggerated Italian accented Spanish. I rolled my eyes as she flirted with the agent. I looked over at Eric to see how he responded to her coquettish behavior. He watched indifferently, awaiting his turn. I deduced he had no feelings for her. After Tony concluded his interview, Eric answered the questions in Spanish. He tentatively answered in poorly accented Spanish, but he mustered through the light interrogation.

Along with a couple of porters, who carried the luggage, Tony led us toward the front entrance of the building. Eric stood close beside me as Aida stood next to him. She held onto his arm like a gangly sloth clutching a tree limb.

A large black SUV waited by the front door. It idled to maintain cool air inside. While Tony and a porter loaded the luggage, Eric secured me inside the SUV by my upper forearm and the rear of the armrest. I couldn’t move my arm forward or back to release myself. The method he used to tie me down indicated this was not his first experience.

Tony took the driver’s seat while Eric sat up front. Aida took her perch behind Eric, sitting beside me. I looked out the window as we rolled ahead toward our next destination.

“I doubt we’re actually here to vacation at an all-inclusive resort, so where are we going?” I questioned, not expecting much of an answer.

“I told you, paradise,” Aida reminded, but didn’t continue.

Despite the dark tinted window, I admired the lush, green landscape of the tropical land. I peered over to the GPS to see if I could get a clue of our destination. Our journey would take forty-three minutes. The road became more rustic as we made our way near the coast.

Tony turned the SUV onto a private road. We drove for miles until we arrived at a black gate, reminding me of the drive up toward Matt’s mansion. The ornate gate with the initial ‘P’ on each door were closed. At the entrance, Tony lowered his window, pressed the call button, and answered the voice coming from the intercom. In local dialect, he stated the ‘Patron’—the owner of the estate— had arrived. Because of the ‘P’ on the gates, I assumed Aida Parisi owned the land.

“Do you own this place?” I asked.

She gave her deviant laugh, shook her head, and answered, “If you only knew who does and whom it’s for.”

I rolled my eyes and looked ahead to an amazing Spanish ranch style house. Not knowing my fate, the drive toward the front entrance filled me with terror. Once we stopped, Aida exited when Eric opened her door. She kissed him deeply, which revolted me. I wasn’t jealous, but Aida seemed to try too hard, setting herself up for heartbreak. When he saw me watching them, he pulled away and frowned, gathering his brow in anger. I couldn’t tell if the anger was directed at me or at Aida for her public display of affection. He slammed her door, closing me in.

Within a few minutes of being confined in the SUV, the heat of the turned off car and the apprehension caused me to panic. When a scream dared escape, my door opened. Tony stood outside. He cut the zip ties from my arms, and I massaged my ravaged skin. The oppressive heat wasn’t surprising. I couldn’t imagine how my mother lived in this country with no seasons. It was no wonder she loved walking with me hand-in-hand during a snow storm, throwing cold snow on my covered belly. I looked around the beautifully manicured landscaping, inhaling the salty sea breeze, which circulated from behind the house. The palm trees swayed and rustled. For a split second, a wave of peace filled me. A whisper from my mother’s homeland, welcoming me as a native daughter.

Tony tugged me forward. We walked toward the front door. I dragged my feet like a prisoner taking her last walk to the electric chair. When the door opened, we were greeted by a short, round woman, who wore a white apron. She smiled brightly. Asking in Spanish if she could help us, Aida took it upon herself to claim we were going to be guests of the Patron and hoped we could come in. The woman looked confused, but Aida continued trying to convince her we were friends and were here to enjoy ourselves on the Patron’s beautiful property. When the woman said she would have to call the Patron, Tony muscled his way inside, taking the woman with him. My heart beat hard and fast, fearing for the innocent woman’s safety.

I thought I could make a run for it. Eric wouldn’t be able to manhandle me alone if I put all my efforts into running away and fighting back. Aida and Eric took hold of my arms, foiling my escape plan. They pulled me inside. Resistance would be fruitless when I wouldn’t know where to go. I had no identification, phone, or money.

Led into a spacious foyer, I looked around the new construction. My work at Parisi, and now with the Pentagram project, made me aware of construction and design costs. From the entrance, no expense was spared. The bright and sunny home retained a cool temperature. Through the wall of windows and French doors, the ocean took center stage. A spectacular view made me want to run to the backyard to experience the private sand and surf. However, Aida would be the only person deriving pleasure from this trip.

No signs of Tony and the woman I presumed to be the maid. I prayed for her safety. No one else should be harmed as part of Aida’s revenge. The question remained, ‘To whom does the house belong and why are we here?’

*****

“Bring in the luggage from the car. I want her to be dressed to impress,” she directed Eric, causing me to shiver in fright.

“What if she tries to escape?” He queried, looking over at me.

“Where would she go?” Aida retorted. He frowned and turned. The angry look he gave me was disturbing. How could he have so much animosity toward me? We barely knew each other. I never led him on. From all indication, they were together.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” She asked me as she turned around. Her arms were raised in an all-encompassing nature.

“It is. I take it the house isn’t yours.”

“No. It wasn’t built for me. Like the Taj Mahal, it was built for his one true love.”

“Come,” she ordered me.

While I could have fought for escape, my chains were mental at this point. Curiosity got the better of me, and I followed into the large, bright room with modern furniture. She walked over to the windows and looked out at the horizon. Once I arrived at the windows, I realized we were elevated with a patio and pool below. The layout made the house appear as if it floated on the ocean. In spite of present company, the home felt comfy and nurturing.

“What are we doing here, Aida?” I asked gently.

“Shortly, very shortly, you’ll find out.”

Eric returned with the luggage, “Come with me,” he commanded.

I turned and followed him. After their first attempt at kidnapping me, which could have been fatal, I realized they were determined to carry out their plan. I hoped to outsmart them again.

Eric led me down a long hallway to the left, rolling a suitcase. He turned right into a double door. The expansive room, bigger than Matt’s master in the mansion, contained a California king bed. The odd placement, centered in the middle of the room, faced toward the ocean. A mosquito net hung from the ceiling covering the entire bed like a canopy. I smiled, thinking of how cozy it would be to sleep with the sliding, windowed doors open; listening to the ocean in the foreground; and smelling the crisp, salty air. I would never experience such a peaceful fantasy.