Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3

by Rey, Rosemary

  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.

  MATT

  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 tea
m”

  “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.

  PERLA

  A female crew member interrupted my nap to inform me dinner would be served on the top deck within half an hour. Never before experiencing being out at sea, it relaxed me. I dressed and applied the makeup found in the bathroom. The hair products worked wonders for my curls. The cute slip on sandals rounded out my look. I was nervous. I knew Shay’s intentions, expecting a romantic evening. And when I arrived at the top deck, my expectations were confirmed. The top deck, under the setting sun, was lined with candles. He stood waiting for me, reaching out his hand as I approached. I sat next to him, facing toward the lights from the other boats and resorts on the beach. The twinkling in the distance helped illuminate the sky as the horizon darkened slowly around us. The moon made its shy appearance, slowly climbing to its mark on the galaxy’s stage. We listened to soft music as we took sips of our drinks; my virgin drink in hand and his amber liquid filled tumbler in his.

  There was no doubt Shay had his romance game down. I wondered if all the other women he did this for were practice; to be as-near-perfect as he could be for me. His fingers traced along my forearm, sliding to my hand and he grabbed my drink, which he placed on the table. He took my hand and pulled me to standing. No words were passed between us. He pulled me close and set me to dance to the slow songs playing.

  The songstress sounded tortured about a lost love. I couldn’t help but think it was his anthem for how he felt about us. His heart beat so strong and fast within his hardened chest, and I felt so much emotion. I hurt for him; bleeding sadness for what he couldn’t have—me. I couldn’t give him what he wanted although I wanted him to be happy with someone else. If I could only give him this moment, these four days, I hoped it would be enough to fulfill his hunger for me. However, it was unfair to bring him closer to the joy he was denying himself with another woman when I couldn’t leave Matt.

  Shay’s hands slid up my back, getting stronger with each inch. When I was impossibly close to his body, I tried to pull away, and he held me tight. Placing his temple low to meet mine, I readjusted my head up to get a breath of fresh air. His scent was exhilarating and nauseating at the same time.

  “I need air, Shay,” I groaned. He relented, but I remained close. “I thought ‘no touching’,” I reminded.

  “As long as we’re not naked,” he retorted.

  ‘With these thin clothes, we might as well be,’ I thought.

  He gave me more space, but was no less affectionate. One of my favorite slow songs with a heavy bass guitar came on and I got emotional, not for Shay or for Matt, but for myself. I spent two years mourning the loss of my marriage to my first boyfriend and lover. Before me swayed a man who claimed a life-long devotion. Back in Boston remained a man who I knew was going out of his mind with worry. How I became so lucky and so cursed was beyond my comprehension.

  “Why me?” I asked again. “And not a question with a question. Why me?”

  “Because I promised your mother I’d take care of you,” he whispered. My heart stalled and I couldn’t breathe.

  “What?” I pulled away to look at him, needing to see if there was sincerity in his eyes.

  “I promised her the day we took the pictures on the piano. I told her I would make sure you’re safe and sound. She told me I was a good young man who would become a great man,” he remembered wistfully, caressing my thumb with his thumb. The sensation was relaxing and soothing.

  “It was too big of a promise. You were just a boy,” I reminded.

  “Which is why I waited until I was a man. I made my life better to fulfill that promise, but you didn’t wait,” he said.

  “I didn’t know. I still don’t understand why me. I was a girl, who had nothing to offer you?”

  “Because you were just as needy for love and attention as I was. You smiled brighter back then. You’ve kept that smile hidden for so long. I waited too long to come to you. You married so young. Why?” He asked. I didn’t answer. He continued without a response because I suspected he truly knew why.

  Looking up into his beautiful hazel eyes, they darkened as we held the gaze and continued to rock to the music. I could barely look at Matt, but Shay had mesmerized me. It was as if I was trying to get much deeper and complete answers from his eyes because everything he said was so implausible.

  “I haven’t seen you dance in so long. I imagined us like this, dancing under the stars,”

  “Do you ever think you’ve been missing out on dancing with ‘the one’ because you’ve been fixated on me,” I said. He pulled away. At the instant, I missed his warmth and hardness against me. I crossed my arms to fill the void.

  “I haven’t missed out having women. I’ve missed out on ‘the one,’ and it’s you. And yet again, you were taken from me,” he revealed with anger in his voice. All I wanted to do was go to him and comfort him, but the comfort would be misconstrued. The young girl within me, who was watching her friend in pain, I wanted to console him. However, I’d done enough of it throughout the day.

  The crew brought up the first course. We ate in silence. I didn’t have much of an appetite. The emotional rollercoaster ride was wreaking havoc with my sleep and eating habits.

  He looked over at my pushing food around the plate, and he sighed heavily.

  “I’m sorry. I know this is too much pressure for you. I promise tomorrow will be better,” he smiled. “I have something I want to sho
w you, and I hope it can bring some excitement while you’re with me,” he said. I turned away and rolled my eyes, straining not to tear up. I didn’t want to feel this heartache again.

  *****

  Sleep eluded me throughout the night. I was tired, lonely, and missing Matt. Not even self-pleasuring helped me to fall asleep. My hands weren’t strong enough, nor my fingers long enough to reach the spots and grip the places Matt always successfully handled. I woke up and ran to the bathroom, throwing up the little contents in my stomach. The yacht seemed to sway more aggressively when I realized we were gearing up to move. I cleaned up slowly, unable to get my bearings. My stomach quivered. I felt hung over without the consumption of alcohol. I dressed in the last dress available.

  When I felt like the sudden sickness passed, I walked up to the main deck and found Shay sitting at the table with coffee in hand.

  “Good morning,” he said with a restrained smile. He looked angry. Actually, it was more like frustrated, and I wondered if he was as sexually exasperated with me as I was not having Matt to fulfill my needs.

  Giving him an equally contained smile, “Mornin’,” and attempted to take a seat on the opposite side of the table when he patted the seat next to him for me to sit. Biting my lip from denying him, I walked slowly, holding onto the bolted furniture, I went to the seat and sat down beside him.

  “Are you sick?” He looked at me.

  “Yeah. I think the sea sickness just hit me,” I responded. He put the back of his hand on my forehead and again onto my jawline.

  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, so it must be sea sickness. I can have the doctor check you out when we dock,” he offered.