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.
“Pick something out. Make yourself prettier, if it’s even possible. I’ll have Tony stationed outside your door. If you have any thoughts of escaping, just know it’s a long drop down, so there’s no point in attempting to escape,” he warned. I looked over toward the balcony and acceptance prompted me to nod. I wondered if he’d been here before because he seemed to know the lay of the land.
Before he left the room, I said, “I hope after all this is over, you won’t be tormented by what you’ve done to me.”
“Don’t take too long. The time is near,” He warned, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I sighed, scanning the room for my tote bag, and didn’t see it. I wandered around the room, and ended up on the balcony. The drop was significant, and for a split second I wondered if diving down head first was better than what was to come. I returned to the room and opened the suitcase. There were beautiful designer dresses with tags still on them, prices were not included, which indicated they were extremely expensive—available for the set of people who don’t need to worry about the price. I selected a white billowy dress, slip on sandals, a matching bra and panty set, and the clear makeup bag of expensive toiletries. A luggage full of brand new clothing and shoes to throw off the customs agents was meticulously planned out.
The elaborate master bathroom, encased in white marble tile from floor to ceiling, told of an owner who spared no expense on importing the materials to this side of the island. Aida couldn’t afford to buy the estate. She may have alluded to having money, but she couldn’t possibly have it to this extreme degree. There were no other houses to the left or the right of this home. The beach appeared private for miles. And there were no boats visible in the horizon. This was the owner’s private refuge, and we were intruders who had commandeered someone’s peaceful retreat.
I took a cool shower. I hated using the billowy, soft towels I found in the bathroom. I prepped myself as fast as possible, wanting to spend some time enjoying the horizon before sunset. I expected it to be the last beautiful thing I would see before Aida and her henchmen did something horrific to me.
When I stepped out onto the balcony, I saw Aida and Eric in a passionate embrace. They were kissing fervently, and the bile collected in my stomach, disgusted by how they got off on kidnapping and potentially killing their prisoner in a foreign land. Eric opened his eyes and our eyes locked. He continued to kiss her, as I watched, my breath was shallow. He watched me examine them. He gripped her ass, grinding her into him. His eyes never diverted from watching me as he continued to consume her. Admittedly, I was titillated and agitated all at once. I walked back into the room and heard a knock at the bedroom door.
Without consent to enter, Tony poked his head in and ordered me to come out of the room. I slipped my feet into the platform sandals. I walked slowly toward Tony, who gave me a soft smile as he took in my image from top to bottom, and back up. It wasn’t lascivious; complimentary was the spirit of his gaze. Embarrassed and nervous, I cast my eyes downward.
“I’ll need your wedding ring, please,” Tony requested politely.
My brows furrowed, and asked, “What? Why?”
“She doesn’t want you to have them on when you go out to the parlor to wait for the Patron of this house.”
“Listen, I’m not taking off my ring, and I’m not going to give it to you. You can kill me on the spot, which is the only way you’ll take it from me.”
In an instant, Tony maneuvered to grab my left hand, flipping my arm behind my back, and pushing me against the wall. With the weight of his body, he held me down, and pulled off my engagement ring. Only two days on, and it was ripped away from me, just like I was snatched away from my husband. Tony released me, and I watched as he slipped the ring into the handkerchief pocket of his jacket. He didn’t physically hurt me. My pride was hurt at the ease with which he subdued me. And I hated myself for cowering to him.
Tony pulled me by the upper arm toward the parlor. Eric stood alone, waiting for us. Aida was thankfully nowhere in sight. “Be on the lookout,” Eric ordered Tony. He let me go and walked off toward the opposite side of the house. I watched him walk away.
“So did you enjoy the show?”
“I’m disgusted by how you two psychos could enjoy this entire cruel and inhumane act.” I said.
He smirked, “Oh, you enjoyed it. I could tell by the way your nipples hardened and you looked like you wished you were in her place,”
“Arrogant as always, Eric, if that is in fact your name.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because a really good criminal wouldn’t go by his real name . . . work at Pentagon . . . the effort to meet me . . . planning this whole kidnapping, and what? Murder? I hardly think Aida came all this way to let me return Boston, so I could live the rest of my life. So care to confirm my assumptions?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” A buzz distracted him. He checked his phone.
“The show will begin soon. Why don’t you wait right here while I get Aida?”
I walked to the balcony once more, seeking some peace and praying this would be over soon. I don’t know how long I waited on the balcony when I heard a male voice call out, in perfectly accented Spanish, “Margarita? I’m here? Where are you?” I turned to ensure I’d accurately connected the voice to the man. Brady stood in the parlor, looking out into the balcony. He saw me, and looked surprised and concerned.
“Perla? Perla, is that you? What are you doing here? Where’s Margarita? Where’s my staff?” He asked worried. I assumed he meant the maid that Tony whisked away.
“I don’t know. I didn’t know there were people other than Margarita.”
“Care to tell me what you’re doing here on my property? Is Matt here? Did you two come here to confront me?”
“Brady, I’m not here with Matt. I didn’t come here voluntarily,” I informed. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t know you owned this place.”
“What are you talking about? Then why are you here?” He walked toward me as I walked to him; ready to warn him about Aida.
“I brought her here,” Aida replied. She stood arm in arm with Eric.
“You? What the fuck? You’re fuckin’ alive,” his normally inhibited Boston accent came out in anger. “Who are you?” He directed at Eric with disdain in his voice.
“He’s with me. And you need not worry about me being alive because you soon won’t be,” she said haughtily.
&nb
sp; “Why did you bring her here? How did you know about this place?” He demanded.
“Did you think you could keep Playa De Perlas secret? This place is amazing. We had a couple of hours to enjoy the tranquility of this haven you created for her. You don’t think she should have known the extent of your obsession with her? How you built this palace, in her honor, in the very region where her mother was born? Probably the same waters where her mother played as a little girl,” Aida informed rather than questioned.
I sobbed at the thought of not knowing I was in Samana in the Dominican Republic where my mother swam daily, awaiting her fisherman father as he brought in the day’s catch. I hugged myself thinking I would die in the very place which gave her life, whereas she died in the place where she gave me life. The full circle moment left me faint. I reached out for Brady, who saw I was in distress. He tucked me into his side, holding me up.
“How sweet. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it Brady? Or should we call you Seamus? Shay to your family and friends . . . Perlita is here on the plot of land where her mother was born,” Aida informed. I could feel his heart beat rapidly, and his breath halted a few times as he listened to her spew his deepest secret. I wondered if he was embarrassed by my hearing these revelations. I held him around the waist and gently stroked his back to reassure him it was okay.
“What do you want? Do you want money? I can wire money into your account,” he offered.
“I don’t want money. You can’t buy me off again, Brady. The monies you suggested I steal from my family business and your cheap purchase of the company is more than enough to live off of in South America. No . . . I want something better.” She said, pulling her arm out of the crook of Eric’s arm and standing in front of Eric.
“Name it.”
“I want to watch Perla die as you watch helplessly,” she said, sounding unhinged. “And then when you see her exhale her last breath, I’m going to enjoy watching you kill yourself over her loss,” she said.
Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 Page 3