Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (7 page)

“You’ve just admitted your scheming caused us to reacquaint ourselves.” Brady said.

“If you don’t think his interest in Parisi started this thing, you’re more naïve than I thought,” she warned. I considered her statement. Brady was interested in Parisi to build Pentagram, diversifying Pentagon’s acquisitions. He may have known my connection to Parisi, but he never approached me. Aida made everything happen because of her insanity.

“Get on the bed,” she ordered me. I looked at her confused. Fear scattered from my mind through my body, numbing me in place. “On. The. Bed.”

I looked over at Brady and he nodded slightly. When I hesitated too long, Eric came over and grabbed me tightly by the upper arm, putting enough pressure as to demonstrate he meant business.

“Let her go!” Brady yelled. Eric’s grip loosened slightly, and I started walking slowly, hoping a miracle would strike them all down and allow me and Brady to escape.

When I arrived at the edge of the bed, I sat down. “Lay down,” she instructed.

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.

“Brady’s going to choke you until your last breath since he likes choking while fucking,” she said. I gagged, covering my mouth for fear I’d lose the bile, which rose up to my throat.

“That’s enough!” Brady yelled. “You’re sick.” He attempted to lunge at her when he was overtaken by both Eric and Tony. “Just shoot me! Kill me, if it’s what you need to live the rest of your life, but leave her alone. Send her home to her husband.”

“She’s not married,” Aida said. My brow furrowed.

“I am. I married Matt on Saturday. We announced it to everyone,” I confirmed.

“No. I thought Brady would like to know his girl was still very much available,” she said.

“What are you getting at?” I asked.

“I had someone intercept the messenger from the Judge’s office who was to deliver the license today. It is amazing how a paltry thousand dollars could entice someone to give up an envelope. I had the marriage certificate delivered to Brady’s office with instructions to be placed in his safe. So when your sweet, not-your-husband comes seeking answers as to why his friend kidnapped his wife, killed her in the heat of passion, and then killed himself, but couldn’t access your estate because you two weren’t legally married, he’ll know the depths of Brady’s obsession with you.”

“You, crazy bitch,” I jumped up. Eric put his hand out to stop me.

Aida was right, playing with me before actually killing me was more painful than I had imagined. If I were to die, I’d prefer my husband thought I remained his wife, and not just a woman who kept his shares. The shares would return to him upon my death, but the process would take longer because I had no Will and Testament. Now, my poor father would have to sort out my mess.

“Tear her dress from her,” Aida ordered Eric, and he turned to face her; no doubt emulating the horror I was feeling. We shouted out our objections. I could feel Eric’s hand tense up as he held me around my waist.

“Why?” Eric questioned.

“You can’t have a fully dressed body when he’s supposed to be fucking her, remember the plan?” Aida replied. Eric’s lips were pursued and his jaw flexed, but he nodded in agreement.

Brady was restrained by Tony, brandishing the gun behind his ear, which must be an efficient spot to instantly kill a human being. Brady closed his eyes and turned away from me, accepting death as our fate. Eric’s hands went to the bodice of the dress, ripping it from the thin straps, falling down my torso. The lacy bra would leave nothing to the imagination. The torn fabric wouldn’t go down my hips.

“On the bed,” Aida ordered me once again. With Eric’s push, I fell backwards onto the bed. I looked pleadingly into his eyes, and I thought I saw a trace of regret. “Bring him to her,” she ordered Tony, who followed through without hesitation. Brady didn’t look directly at me. I recalled recent times when he looked at me lasciviously, and I was disgusted with him. In this moment, he looked like the seventeen-year-old boy who would catch glimpses of my emerging womanly figure, and would sheepishly turn away. I realized he never wanted to make me a sexual object. He rejected it physically, but emotionally he wanted a connection.

“Get on her,” She ordered Brady, who stood rigid, refusing to do her bidding. Seeing him tremble ever so slightly, so conflicted and incapable of hurting me, I knew I had to counter Aida’s commands. I reached out for him with both hands, permitting him to do as she ordered. His lip quivered in anger, sadness, and maybe arousal. I dared not look lower than his chest. When Tony pushed him forth, Brady entered the bed. He held himself up over me, kneeling beside me. I moved over to give him room. “Not beside her. On. Her!” She instructed.

Whispering, “sorry,” Brady climbed over me, holding himself up on his forearms. I numbed my mind to reduce the sensation of his hard body unintentionally on my own. His muscular legs pressed against mine, and rose off my body whenever we touched, like the recoil of fingers from a hot surface. I could feel him quiver as he kept his torso off mine. Sensing he was as repulsed by this as I was made it more palatable.

Brady brought his head to my neck, facing away from them. He kissed under my ear where Matt knew to arouse me. He probably learned it from the sex video he blackmailed me with.

“I need you to put your hands over your head,” Brady whispered. “There is a silent panic button on this side of the headboard,” he informed. Brady pulled my arm up against the ornate semicircle headboard. I brought my hands up in surrender and audibly gasped when he lay over me to kiss my other side.

“Does she feel as you’d imagined?” Aida asked through gritted teeth. I was sure she was titillated by ordering him to seduce me before killing me.

My fingers searched for the button. As soon as I found it, I pressed hard, leaving my finger there for a few beats before Brady pulled my arms down. My mind was so focused on pressing the panic button, I hadn’t noticed when he changed his position to straddle me. He held my wrists together in his hand. Brady’s face was a shifting veil of desire and regret.

“Choke her like you liked to choke me. I know it gets you off,” I heard Aida say. I looked up at him. Seeing his internal battle of trying to do what she commanded, his deepest sexual desires stimulated, and his compulsion to keep me safe, I pulled my arms toward my neck. His free hand traveled the length. Brady grunted, possibly to unleash some of the pent up emotions he restrained. He resisted me by pulling away.

When I finally caught his gaze, I mouthed, “Do it!” He was pale and sweaty. Within a second, his manly hands, which were once so gentle with me, wrapped around my neck. His thumb caressing my jugular vein, and he licked his lips, but he didn’t attempt to squeeze.

Brady pulled away and turned to Aida, “Just shoot me. I’m not doing that to her.” He removed himself from above my body, and sat beside me on the bed. He was stalling. Whatever alert the panic button signaled to the receiver, Brady prevaricated until help arrived. He stood up off the bed to the opposite side. Tony pointed the gun at Brady. I thought his heroism was honorable, but stupid. I inclined to sit up.

“Why do you want me to strangle her? Tell one of your goons to do it.”

“It would be an obvious thing to do, but I’d prefer to leave no doubt of your murder-suicide. It’s all about plausibility. She needs to die at your hands, literally,” she responded. “I want whoever assesses the scene to confirm the sequence of events; you killed her, matching the size of your fingers and prints to those around her neck. We’re taking careful measure to eliminate our footprint here, so if you’ll . . .”

“What makes you think I won’t go down without a fight?” Brady countered, getting off the bed.

“Why aren’t you fighting now? I mean you can come after Tony or Eric, or even me, but you haven’t. Why?” She asked. He didn’t answer. “Because you’re invoking your right to self-preservation, stalling and avoiding the inevitable. You two will die tonight, at your hands, Brady.”

“No. I’m not going to kill her, and I won’t die today,” he warned. I saw Tony raise his gun. Aida groaned, moving toward me. Brady called out to me, extending his hand, and I nimbly jumped out of bed and stood next to him. He pulled me close, inching us backwards. I slipped out of my sandals, which were causing me to slide around on the smooth tile flooring.

Swiftly, Brady pulled me backwards as I watched the three of them rush toward us. Brady moved us sideways, avoiding the bullet released from the chamber of Tony’s gun with a loud bang. Two loud pops, piercingly hit the wall, and the dusty mist of the plaster sprayed us as we ran into what I thought was a walk in closet. I lost count of the shots fired. Brady pulled me into another room, pressing a button on the wall, and a large door slammed shut, enclosing us.

The room was slightly larger than my former studio apartment. I looked around the dimly lit space. We couldn’t hear any sounds except our jagged breathing. The room felt vacuum sealed.

“Are you hit?” Brady repeated over and over as I went over the edge of sanity into a complete freak out. I shook as my heart felt compressed. I gasped for air.

“Relax,” he repeated as he looked me over to ensure I wasn’t hit by a stray bullet. He held my head in his hands and kissed my forehead as I calmed down. Countless minutes passed before I regained my faculties.

“What is this?” I asked terrified.

“It’s a safe room,” he responded, holding me close.

“Are we trapped in here?” I asked. “Can they get in? How do we get out?” I asked in a rush.

“Relax. It was built to keep us safe while anyone who is trying to do us harm gets apprehended. They can’t get in. It’s virtually indestructible,” he pronounced.

“Virtually? How much is ‘virtually’?” I asked. He laughed. I found nothing funny about what we’d just gone through.

“We’ll stay in here until my security collects those assholes. The button you pressed alerted them to my distress. This room will keep us safe until they’re captured. My security should have this place surrounded within a few minutes of you pressing the button. The sealing of this door also sets off an alarm for them to know I’m in here. They will get to us as soon as possible. Apprehending them or ensuring they are out of this house is the first priority.” He quietly informed. I took my first deep cleansing breath. Suddenly, I felt light headed. I was annoyed by this constant faint feeling.

I pulled away from him and reclined against the wall, sliding down to the floor. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Is there air circulating through here?” I asked tentatively.

“Yes. I’ll get you water.” He opened up a door behind me. I couldn’t see what was inside.

“What’s in there?”

“Um, it’s a small supply closet. Water, first aid kit, defibrillator, food, towels, and some clothing,” he rattled off.

“Do you intend to move in here?” I asked. He laughed raucously.

“It’s also a hurricane shelter. This is supposed to keep me safe during an intense storm. There is one in each side of the house. This is the biggest one. There is also a small bathroom in here with a shower. It’s designed much like a small cruise ship bedroom.” He informed.

I’d never been in a cruise ship, and decided in the moment I didn’t care to experience such a small space in the middle of the ocean. He kept talking, possibly to soothe me when in reality I needed quiet. I had to sort the events of the day. I put my head in between my legs to soothe my nerves and regulate my breathing. Grief counseling taught me the technique after losing my mother.

“I need to throw up,” I warned. He pulled me up and took me to the lavatory. I wretched and heaved the limited contents in my stomach. I sank to the floor, wiping my mouth. After handing me water, Brady stroked my shoulders. I wanted to resist, but I needed the comfort even from the wrong person.

Who I needed was Matt. I needed my husband, and the realization he wasn’t technically my husband made me mourn his absence all the more.

“Do you feel better?” He asked hopeful. I nodded.

“I need to get out of here. I’ve been stuck inside fortified tin all day with insane people holding me against my will,” I rambled. I felt him recoil, removing his hands from my back.

“My head of security will get us out when all is safe, okay? I need you to relax,” he said, kissing my forehead. I noticed he took a whiff of my hair. He’d done it before when he’d given me a goodbye hug after the dinner with all of the Pentagon men. Brady stood up and pulled me up to standing. He walked me to a wall, pulling down a horizontal cot with one arm while holding me close to his body with the other. He sat me down gently in the middle of the cot.

I sat in a catatonic state, avoiding any thoughts of my stressful experience. Brady pulled a t-shirt over my head. Instinctively, I put my arms through each sleeve.

“Thank you,” I said without emotion, suffering from a shock I hadn’t experienced in over a decade. He knelt on bended knee before me.

“Are you okay?” He looked at me with his piercing greenish, hazel eyes. I nodded, glancing away from his stare. They had locked me in, and I couldn’t allow him to think there was more than an innocent ogle. My eyes lingered at his shoulders. A dark spot on his shoulder made me retrace it’s origin down the sleeve of his white shirt and I saw a large stain on his bicep.

“You’re shot,” I gasped. I stood up, touching his arm. His shirt was torn where the bullet entered. Blood collected on the bunched up fabric of his dress shirt.