Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3

by Rey, Rosemary

  Ken placed me in the back seat, closing the door. I looked at Manny in the driver’s seat. He made eye contact through the rear view mirror, and turned away. “Manny,” I started. He locked eyes through the rear view mirror again, “Your father says ‘hello’,” I informed.

  “Are you okay, Perla,” I heard Ken ask as I reclined on the seat back. He sat next to me and the other guard sat up front.

  I closed my eyes from the passing landscape. Waves of queasiness flowed through my core. Ken vacillated between professionalism and friendship.

  “No,” I sobbed. I was hurt, scared, and mostly confused by Matt’s anger. I failed to see the joy of finally having me back.

  I felt stupid and infantile for expecting to just fall back into his arms. I needed a sign all would be okay. Instead he treated me like a possession, much like Brady did with the drunken guy at the casino. I was no one’s possession. All I saw was Matt feeling the need to jerk off on me again like he did after seeing me with Eric. I was humiliated by his behavior. All I wanted was to be happily married to a man who respected me as an equal, not one who claimed me as a prize to dangle in front of his rival.

  I must’ve fallen asleep on the ride. Exhaustion consumed me. Ken awoke me when we arrived, and told Manny to wait or loop around the block if necessary. Ken and his team member walked me inside the building, holding my suitcase. I noticed my purse was in the guard’s hand.

  “Where did you get that bag?”

  “A crew member handed it to Craig before we left,” Ken said.

  I took it from Craig’s hands and looked inside. Everything was in there: keys, wallet, makeup case, cell phone, birth control, which I had restarted after messing up when Matt and I broke up and then again after the accident. I scanned and rummaged in search of my wedding ring. It wasn’t in my tote. It wouldn’t be. Tony had forced it off of me and placed it in his pocket. It may have remained in custody with the local police. This would prove to make matters worse with Matt, knowing he would return to my apartment soon made me anxious.

  “I need to talk to you alone, Ken, please,” I said firmly.

  Ken nodded and gave a signal to Craig. We took the elevator upstairs and I unlocked the door with my keys. We placed everything in the entry way. Everything looked the same, but smelled fresh and clean. There was some comfort in being home.

  “Join me on the couch, please,” I asked.

  “I’d prefer to stand, ma’am. What can I do for you?” He said, forcing the professionalism.

  “What happened back there is a huge mess. I need to figure out what’s happening. I don’t think this nightmare is going to end,” I stated honestly.

  “We heard your captor was returned to the US for prosecution, so you’re safe,” he responded.

  “I’m not so sure,” I started to say. I then proceeded to tell him everything that happened to me. I described the moment I was taken until the moment the panic room door opened, and everything I perceived and experienced while I stayed at Playa de Perlas. I even explained the connection between Manny and Shay’s staff. I finished by explaining my belief that the plane which transported me to DR was at the hangar.

  “I need help putting together all the pieces of a jumbo puzzle. There are missing fragments and I don’t know how everything fits. For the sake of my future and my relationship with Matt I need your help. Do you know anyone who can follow up on some of my evidence?” I asked, hopeful he would help.

  “Ms. Perla. I don’t work for you. I work for your husband, so unless he fires me, I can’t blur the line of our relationship. I’m just your guard, and after tonight, I may be done.”

  “Then I’ll hire you to continue protecting me,” I stated.

  “It’s up to your husband,” he stated. I hadn’t told him about the marriage license.

  “You can’t give me a name of someone?” I pled. He shook his head ‘no.’

  “For your own good, you need a clean slate. Everyone on this team comes from one source; Marty Hess. He’s our boss, and he’s known all of the Pentagon men since the early years. His loyalty will lie with them. All the people I know in this business derive from Marty. You don’t want any part of them, but I’ll give you more clues to the puzzle and find someone to help you fill what I couldn’t,” Ken said. He proceeded to give me more details obtained while captive and as recently as the tip given by the hangar employee.

  “Thank you for the information. I’ll follow up, somehow. I think I have another option. Please keep this conversation between us. I don’t think Matt will be able to understand my need to get to the truth.”

  “If I learn anything else, I’ll share it with you,” he said. And we said our “goodbyes.”

  I plugged in my cellphone, and waited until it turned on. There were hundreds of voicemails, text messages, and emails. I’d worried so many people, racking me with guilt. I should have been more forceful with Shay and demand to go back home. I made the first call to Carson.

  “Is this you, Perla?”

  “Hi,” I said shyly.

  “Where are you? I’ll come to you,” he rattled.

  “Oh sweetie, I’ve missed your voice. I’m okay. I’m at my apartment. I need time.”

  “You’ve had five days. We were all worried about you. The kids were worried you wouldn’t make the show. I have great news for you about the production and event. You’re never going to believe . . .” he sounded so excited and I hated to interrupt.

  “Sweetie, I need a favor because all is not over.”

  “What do you mean?” I could hear the dread in his voice. I told him as much as necessary, and asked if Turner was available or if I should call his office. Luckily, Turner was seated right next to him.

  “Darlin’, you’re safe,” he said in his masculine Southern drawl and a wave of calm washed over me, relaxing my anxious mind. I made my requests for an investigator. Turner said he would call me from his office within a few minutes with his investigator on the line.

  Watching the second hand turn on the clock in my entry way, I waited for both the phone call from Turner and Matt’s return.

  Once the phone rang, I urgently answered, “Turner?”

  “Perla, I have Irena Haggan on the conference line. She’s an investigator who runs her own investigative company,” he introduced.

  “Hi, Mrs. Keene.”

  “It’s Mercurio, please,” I informed.

  “What?” Turner asked.

  “Long story. I need help with a very complicated issue and I’d like you to get started right away investigating what I’m about to tell you,” Without allowing anyone to interrupt, I gave the entire account. “Turner, I want you in on this too. I don’t know what legal ramifications may come from this whole ordeal, but I need you to keep my best interests in mind,” I stated.

  “Irena, I will be another point person. Thanks, for helping us,” Turner said and hung up from the conference call. I remained on the call with him.

  “I gave Matt a copy of the flash drive as part of the investigation of your abduction. I’m sorry.”

  “Turner, I know you needed to do whatever was necessary to find me. I’m fine and I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be okay when I can stop this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know if it will ever be okay,” I answered.

  “Well, rest and I’ll be in touch. Keep me posted.”

  “Thank you. Tell Carson to pick me up on Sunday. It’s our last session and I can’t miss it before next week’s performance,” I said, and upon his assurances we hung up.

  The hour was getting later, and no sign of Matt. I called my father, cutting the conversation short. I let him know Gill would be in touch with an invitation to the gala next week. Chelsea was relieved to hear from me. After I gave her a redacted account, I listened to her ramble while I sifted through my copious mail set on my dining room table, until I came to a letter from Ross. My heart palpitated, knowing what it
meant.

  Before I opened the envelope, I continued to listen to Chelsea bitch about Matt and Brady. I informed her I’d be busy trying to figure out my life, but Gill would send an invitation to the performance and gala. We ended our conversation with a prolonged ‘goodbye’, ‘I love you, sweetie’, and ‘I love you, lovey’.

  Quickly, I opened up the card. A memorial card, similar to my mother’s card after her death, slipped out and landed on the table. A picture of a healthy and vibrant Alice faced me. She looked so beautiful and young. I read through the prayer, and smiled, tears streaming down my face all the while. I read Ross’s note, thanking me for the generous gift to two charitable causes near and dear to Alice. I sobbed, letting the note fall to the table.

  I searched through the remainder of the mail, and found two letters. One was from a woman’s cancer charity, thanking “Dr. and Mrs. Mathias Keene” for the generous donation in Alice’s memory of twenty-five-thousand dollars per year during our lifetime. I was floored at his generosity. The next letter was from the local college, with an annual donation to a scholarship in Alice’s name for a deserving student studying hospitality. The scholarship would cover tuition, room and board, and extra educational expenses for four years. Matt’s generosity was staggering. Both of the donations comforted me, relieving the guilt for not attending her memorial. I made the sign of the cross, saying a silent prayer for Alice.

  My thoughts and feelings were jumbled. I added grief to my laundry list of emotions. My thoughts returned to each Pentagon man, and hoped everyone was safe and unharmed. I feared Matt wouldn’t come to me.

  MATT

  When I entered her bedroom, I found her resting on the chaise by the window. She looked out over the skyline, watching the pink and orange sky of the setting sun. Perla looked beautiful in her silky robe. Her hair long and curly was damp from a shower. I wasn’t quiet when I entered the room. I returned to be with her, but she remained silent and didn’t turn to acknowledge me. To see her in repose made me want to run to her and pick her up. I needed to hold her in my arms for the rest of the night—for the rest of our lives. However, I knew something had changed. It was in the air. My body could feel it. Dread rushed over me and I couldn’t figure out what it was or how to get rid of it. The usual need to bring her body to me and press her tightly against me faded away. I felt numb, afraid, and anxious. I prayed the feeling would go away. I swallowed the lump in my throat before I walked over to the chaise in hopes of having a long talk with my love.

  “Babe, I’m here. Can we talk?” I asked gently. I watched as her torso took in a large inhalation and slowly contracted in exhalation. She nodded, but didn’t turn to look at me. I sat at the foot of the chaise, and clasped my hands together to prevent touching her. I had no idea the trauma she suffered while with Brady, and I didn’t want to cause her any distress. However, I needed to know the scope of their time together. I needed answers.

  “Are you okay?” Was all I could ask her, and she nodded in response. “Did he hurt you?” I asked, needing to know that much.

  Perla sucked her teeth and I could imagine her rolling her eyes. She shook her head “no”. A ripple of relief went over me, but I needed to know more.

  “Did he touch you?”

  “Are you wanting to know if he fucked me?”

  I flinched with the crude language. I didn’t want to associate ‘fuck’ with Brady and Perla.

  “Did you hurt him?” She asked without looking at me, which brought me no comfort and started to light my anger.

  I pushed away the animalistic part of me, which wanted to ravage her and claim her as mine again. I took a few cleansing breaths.

  “No. I made sure I was prevented from doing so,” she turned to look me in the eyes to assess the truth. “I want to know what happened. You were gone for a long time. He brought you back and you go and protect him without thinking of how I suffered not knowing where you were or who you were with. I need answers.” I said. My voice cracking from the restraint, nerves, and anger.

  She turned to look me square in the eyes, and I saw a fading glimmer of love. It used to shine so brightly I thought she would combust. At the moment, it flickered, and I knew whatever happened with Brady had extinguished her love for me.

  “Nothing happened between us. Well, nothing sexually or physically . . .” She paused. My heart beat fast; overwhelmed by the emotions. I was relieved. Without having to complete her sentence, I knew the dynamic between her and Brady had changed. But how it changed and to what degree was still undiscovered.

  “Can you tell me what did happen?” I pressed gently, hoping to elicit more details.

  “He saved me from Aida who planned to kill me and Shay,” she started.

  She told me an elaborate tale, but not enough for me to understand why she didn’t come home.

  “He asked me to stay, and I . . .” she informed.

  “He asked you to stay? And you choose to stay? You didn’t demand to come back home?” I fired the questions in rapid succession.

  “It won’t make sense to you.”

  “Try me.” I snapped.

  She told me the story, but I could tell she’d held back details. My blood simmered and boiled, going through a range of heat levels, as she explained his proposition. Then the silence was overwhelming.

  “I had just been kidnapped by my ‘deceased’, ex-sister-in-law. I didn’t have any way to get to the airport. I didn’t have a passport. No money, no cell, no means. I was stuck there. He demanded I stay, and I chose to stay because I didn’t have much choice. It was the only way to get answers,” she added.

  “Answers? To what?”

  “To why he’s ‘in love’ with me? How and why I ended up in that moment in time? How we proceed from here on out?” She cried.

  Her tears panicked me. I knew I was pushing too soon, too fast. My personality didn’t allow for any other way.

  “Did you get your answers?” I asked.

  My heart pounding in my ears.

  “Mostly. I think he’s holding some things tight to the vest. I don’t know . . .” She trailed off, and looked out of the window.

  “We’re going to file a restraining order against him tomorrow,”

  “It’ll be Saturday,” she argued.

  “I’ll have the entire city open to ensure he’s out of our lives. We’re going to press charges against him for kidnapping . . .”

  “No!”

  The last time she was aggressive was when she’d confronted me about Pentagon. Her eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head at me.

  “No? What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “He didn’t kidnap me. Aida did. He gave me an ultimatum to stay, but we reconnected on a personal level. Besides, this would cause a major scandal for the corporation. I don’t want to embarrass him or his family. The last thing we need is a scandal.”

  “Since when have you cared about the corporation? Why do you care so much for him? Did you fall in love with him in a week?” My anger and frustration crested over the surface.

  “I did with you.” Her eyes cut into mine.

  There it was. She fell in love with Brady. She might as well have slapped me.

  “So you’re in love with him?” I asked. She looked away and shook her head, but didn’t meet her eyes with mine and her quivering lip told me what she couldn’t bear to pronounce. “Do you know about Stockholm Syndrome?”

  “What?”

  “Stockholm Syndrome is a psychological event when . . .” I started.

  “I’m not a fucking moron. I know very well about Stockholm Syndrome, and I can say with certainty I’m not suffering from it,” she shouted at me. “I connected with him because he was a family friend, not because I was bonded with him as my captor. He wanted a week to make me fall in love with him. I gave him a condition; he wouldn’t touch me. Upon our return, I get our marriage license. To make it legal, I’d file it, if I wanted.”

  The statement, ‘if I wanted’, reverberated in my ear
s while she informed me of how Brady had our marriage license under his control. .

  “So that’s why he said we weren’t married? We can just get a new one,” I concluded, shrugging off the minor obstacle.

  Her silence was deafening, and she started, “I just don’t . . .”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Did you fall in love with him?” I interrupted, ignoring her weak attempt at a response.

  “I care about him more than I did a week ago. He reminded me of what we meant to each other so many years ago.” The tears streamed down her beautiful face. “He was a great friend back then; a caretaker in his own right. In the summer, Maggie would send us off to do so many activities together. My brother Tommy idolized him. Shay and I reminisced about things I had long suppressed. I hadn’t remembered them, but he brought those good feelings back despite how my mother’s illness and Tommy’s life and their death, were buried deep. It was nice to have someone to talk to about those times. He’s not the terrible person I thought he was; at least, not with me. Not during our time together.”

  “Where does your ‘caring about him’ leave us? What about our marriage?” The edge in my voice cracked through the surface.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?” I demanded, pushing her past her confused state. The Perla I knew was resolute. The woman before me was shaken and confused; not the woman I loved or was comfortable being with.

  “My time with Shay . . .”

  “Brady. You were with Brady. He’s not Shay.” I snapped at her. Her eyes filled with sadness. The building anger didn’t allow me to feel remorse for my angry reply.

  “That’s just it Matt; to me he is Shay. He was Brady. He’s Brady to you and everyone else. But to me, he’s Shay. I know you’re angry and hurt, but I need some time to work through my feelings. I have to sort out everything that’s happened since we met.”

  “There isn’t anything to sort out. You won’t be seeing him . . .”