Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (17 page)

*****

The crew greeted us and immediately began catering to our needs. The jet was as lavish as I expected. It was larger than the one Aida chartered. It had a full sized couch on one side, Captain’s seats on each side toward the back and front, which swiveled to sit together or adjust to sit back to back. Shay showed me the small bedroom with a full sized bed and shower. I sat down on one of the Captain’s chair, and Shay sat beside me. I tightened my seat belt tightly, and prayed ritualistically as we took off. I hugged myself, squeezing my sides with each bump. Shay took my hand, interlacing our fingers and stroked lightly with his thumb. I needed his comfort because I was so fearful of us plunging to our death and me not being able to say my final goodbyes to my family, especially Matt.

“Did you have a good time?” He asked when we were at cruising altitude. I took a while to answer before he shook my hand.

“As much as one could be when dragged there by a crazed kidnapper and her henchmen, shot at, locked in a panic room, and compelled to stay,” I retorted.

“I didn’t think there was any other way to spend time with you. Once you return, Matt will be even more protective of you. I’ve seen him do it before. He will put a short leash on you, and I won’t have a chance to meet with you.”

“I’m my own person, Shay. I’m not a little girl anymore. I can make my own choices and no husband is going to deny me my choices,” I stated.

He smirked.

“What?” I asked.

“You clearly don’t know your boyfriend,” he retorted, reminding me of my unmarried status.

“Inform me then. What will he do?”

“I can say with absolute certainty I would be left more disfigured than the man who touched you at the casino,” he said, staring deep into my eyes.

My eyes widened.

“He wouldn’t,” I whispered, doubting his claim.

“His years of martial arts training says otherwise.”

Another revelation further supported the notion I’d jumped the gun in marrying Matt.

“I just want to tell you, no matter whom you choose, and I hope it’s me,” he smiled, squeezing my hand, which I’d forgotten was still within his grasp. “I had a great time with you. I’m humbled that you saw what I built for you in honor of your mother. I hope it isn’t the last time we spend time together there,” he subtly bit his lip, staring at my mouth.

Shay was so devilishly handsome. His businessman experience definitely helped him create a poker face. I didn’t recoil or flinch when he pulled my hand for a kiss.

“Can I ask for a favor?” He started, and I nodded, trying to ignore the shake of the airplane. “I’d like to take you to see my mom. I told her you were working with Pentagon. She was surprised and eager to see you. I told her you were busy. I’ve been putting it off for weeks. I’m sure Matt pulled all the stops to find you, which includes checking on my whereabouts. No doubt his investigative team went to talk to my mom. I’ll have to explain everything to her. I can’t lie to her, you know. Before he orders you not to see me, I’d like to just give her some time to get reacquainted with you. She’ll see how beautiful you are and how much you’ve accomplished,” he complimented.

His words, carefully chosen, were compelling enough to make me agree.

“You didn’t tell her about my detour in Vegas?”

“Never. You’ve turned out to be an amazing woman,” he declared strongly, looking deep into my eyes. “And she’ll want to remain in your life. If you choose Matt and he allows,” His assurances comforted me. I didn’t need a mother figure thinking less of me. I was already worried about what Matt’s mother would think about me.

The flight attendant interrupted and provided us with beverages and a light snack. I braced myself, not for the fear of flight, but the return home. Shay gave me so much to think about. While I didn’t think I could ever be with Shay, I certainly didn’t want him hurt by my husband, who technically wasn’t my husband.

The past few days were torture, waiting for her to return to me. Everyone stayed out of my way, communicating through text messages and emails. With no further tips or information, we had resigned ourselves to waiting. Being Friday, Perla was scheduled to return, but we didn’t know where or what time. I hadn’t spoken to my parents since my visit and subsequent phone call, and while it was common for us to rarely speak, I expected them to ensure I was doing well. Conflicting feelings troubled me. I wanted support and yet, I wanted to be left alone. I was also nervous for Perla’s return. I didn’t know the condition in which she’d return. Would she be healthy and safe? Would she still trust me even though I didn’t keep her safe? Would her love be as strong as ever?

My cell rang and I jumped to retrieve it from the counter. Glynnis was in the bedroom cleaning because I was keeping vigil. “Ken? What have you got?”

“We received a tip from the hangar. Brady filed plans and a manifest. Perla is on the plane,” Ken said.

My heart beat irregularly. I knew that bastard had my woman.

“Their flight comes in after three,” he concluded.

I looked at my watch. A few hours remained until their arrival. “I want you and a couple of other guards to be at the hangar at least an hour before landing,” I said.

“Do you think he will be a physical threat?” Ken asked.

“No . . . I will.”

I hung up.

I called Zipper, and apprised him of what was going down at the private hangar. He stated he would be there to support me, despite my protestations. I didn’t want him to see my wife exiting a plane with Brady. The thought made me sick to my stomach. After Glynnis returned to the living room, I alerted her to what was happening. I went to shower and change. What do you wear to receive your wife when she’s traveling with a romantic rival, who was once a good friend and current business partner?

“Mathias, you are a level headed man. Do not step out of your respectable class in front of your wife. She may not like seeing a frightening side of you,” Glynnis warned in her French accented English. My jaw tensed.

“Ne vous inquiétez pas.” In French,
I assured her not to worry. With my eyes cast down, I walked her to the elevators. There was much to worry about.

*****

The drive was slow. I felt the minutes took days to pass. I waited, pacing around in the waiting room of the facility where our private planes were housed. One of Pentagon’s private planes was also housed. I asked questions of the staff, but none would help. Soon after, I was approached by a pretty, petite blonde woman.

“Sir, can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Yeah, some information about Brady’s use of his plane and flight plans,” she looked around nervously, scrolled on a clipboard, turning it to reveal a note, ‘Parking lot. Red van.’ Her actions were quick and simple. I stood up and walked out in search of the site where I assumed she would meet me.

I watched her walk nervously toward me and walked around the back of the van. It was awfully mysterious.

“Mr. Clay chartered a larger plane from a private company for only three passengers and three flight crew; all listed on the flight manifest. His usual flight crew has not been seen since they returned. On the manifest is not his usual staff. Usually when he travels, he has the same people leave and return with him on his plane. If he’s staying too long, the plane gets parked and they return commercial and then flies back to his destination to retrieve him and his plane,” she said.

I didn’t find it unusual because I typically had the same plans or paid my pilot and crew to remain through my duration.

“As you may know his plane is pretty new and has passed mechanical checks each time, and was thoroughly checked and passed inspection before we stationed it. Today, I reviewed all the logs, double and even triple checking everything. On Monday, when your wife disappeared, his plane was taken without him on board. Two flight plans were filed with no manifest, which is unusual practice for him. When your investigator came in and claimed he left from here, I was perplexed because he didn’t leave from here. The plane being taken without anyone on board is highly unusual. It wasn’t taken for a practice or mechanical check run,” she stopped to assess to see if I was following.

“I cross referenced with the date he allegedly left with his mother and friends. They didn’t fly out of this hangar from his plane, sir. I think he may have flown commercial or chartered elsewhere. His plane didn’t return until Wednesday; not right away like a test run would take,” she concluded.

“Would you know if his plane stopped at another airport?”

“Yes, but it would take time to determine which one. I was going to call Ken, but I saw you’d arrived. I was on vacation on Monday and Tuesday. I was able to help on Wednesday, but no one else here has been helpful, even when I questioned them. I truly don’t know what transpired around here. I don’t know if it helps, but I just thought you should know Mr. Clay’s usual travel pattern was abnormal. Can you keep my involvement between us? I really need this job and Pentagon has been very good to me,” she added.

I gave her my assurances, and left her to return to the waiting area. My security team arrived. Ken introduced two new men. I gave Ken the information the young woman gave me and he claimed he would follow up. I heard my name called, and turned to see Zipper, Lark and Kent arrive. I can’t express how much it meant to me to see them support me. Each of them shook my hand and hugged me in greeting.

“Thank you for coming, guys,” I said with more composure than I felt. I felt my body quake with nerves and anger. Each one saying, he was here for me.

When we were about to sit and wait, Ken informed that Brady’s plane was about to land. I looked over to see the young lady nod in confirmation. We all stood and walked toward the field, and watched planes come and go until a large private jet slowly taxied toward the hangar. It was much larger and a different color than Brady’s plane. The flagman directed the plane to a stop about one-hundred yards away. Within minutes, the door opened and the pilot exited, walking toward the back of the plane. A crew member exited, and then another. My anxiety rose, and I couldn’t see much but red.

When I saw Perla exit the cabin, holding onto the chains of the door, her hand went out to be assisted by the crew member. She smiled softly. I was able to exhale once I saw her in one-safe-beautiful-piece. She wore a lilac flowing dress. Her hair flowed in glossy black curls, which she tossed behind her.

I raced toward the plane when I saw Brady exit with a smug look of satisfaction. I could hear the movement of my men following behind me. Perla smiled when she saw me, but her expression changed when I went charging toward him. In an instant, I heard yelling and screaming from in front and behind me as I ran to grab Brady. My heart sank to my stomach. Perla turned to Brady, putting herself in harm’s way to protect him. She protected him from me—her husband. The arrogant smile on his face when she held me off with one arm and held onto him with the other yelling “no” was infuriating.

“Stop, Matt,” I heard her cry, feeling the grip of many hands on my arms and torso. I paused, looking at her. “Wow,” she cried.

Brady stopped battling me and with all his might pushed me away. He pulled her to him. I heard him ask if she was okay, and she was holding her arm. I saw bruising on her arm and I became more incensed.

“Did you hurt her?”

“You’re asking me? You’re the one attacking us. You see how he is Perla?” Brady directed at her.

I attempted to advance when I noticed I was pinned in place by my friends, and security surrounded them.

“Stop. Both of you,” she cried out as she massaged her elbow.

“Let me see,” I told her instead of asking.

“I’m fine,” she responded tersely, huffing and breathing erratically.

She remained in his arms, and I was more incensed.

“Ken, take Mrs. Keene home.”

“She’s not your wife,”

“Stop,” she directed at Brady. She touched his chest, and I wanted to bash his face in.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I roared. She looked frightened. Glynnis was right. My cooler head needed to prevail, but there was no way that was going to happen.

“Matt. We should talk,” Perla said.

“We intend to talk, just not with you here. Go home,” I ordered.

The look on her face was heartrending, but I remained heartless seeing them together and she looked . . . as beautiful as always . . . without me. It didn’t look like she suffered or struggled at all. The way she stood against his body made me think they’d gotten physically closer, thereby driving us apart. I needed her gone and safely locked away from him. I motioned to Ken, and one of the guards to take her.

“No! Watch her arm—it’s hurt,” Brady said as he reached for her.

Lark went to his side and put his hands against Brady’s chest, holding him back. His outburst was an odd display for an usually composed man. It confirmed his deep feelings and concern for her. One of the body guards remained behind, centered between us.

“Matt. Talk to me first,” I heard her yell out from behind. And all I could think was she was trying to break things off with me to be with him, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.

*****

When I was sure she was gone, I returned to Brady. “Why did you kidnap my wife?” I asked.

“I didn’t kidnap your wife. Perla was kidnapped by someone else. I saved her from uncertain death,” he revealed. My eyes widened.

“Does this have anything to do with the prisoner who returned on your plane?” I asked.

“I’m going home,” he waved me off and made to walk. Kent and Lark stepped in to stop him. The guard remained at the ready.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys? I’m out of here. I don’t need this shit from any of you. Fuck all of you. Always taking his fucking side,” Brady spewed angrily, reddening with adrenalin and the heat of the hot Boston summer afternoon.

“You’re going to tell me what happened. And so help me Brady, if you did anything to my wife or turned her against me, I’m going to destroy you,” I spouted.

Both of us attempted to lunge at each other. Zipper and the guard held me back while Kent and Lark stood in front of him. I didn’t know if my friends were protecting me from Brady or if they were protecting Brady from me. Being slightly taller and broader, I could have easily caused some damage. Martial arts training since I was a child prepared me to defend myself in hand to hand combat. Initially my parents were concerned that my impulsivity would be amped up by my knowledge of fighting, but training centered me.

Brady could take anything I had to dish out. His two older brothers, who were equally or extraordinarily larger than him, tussled with him often. However, we had never attacked one another. The most we’d ever done was argue over a business decision and not speak for days or weeks. This elevated our disdain a thousand fold.

“Tell him what happened,” Lark directed at Brady. They’d gotten close over the years. Brady took Lark Fielding under his wing, training him as a top executive.

Brady pushed Lark away, exclaiming, “Not until we all calm down.” He stared daggers at me as he adjusted his collar.

I went to jump him and was restrained from both sides. Kent kept a hand at my chest. Brady walked away to his car, which was conveniently waiting for him inside the hangar. I knit my brows together, thinking through what the worker said. Brady’s car should never have been there if he didn’t fly out of this strip.

“This isn’t over,” I shouted without a response from him.

“Go home to your wife,” Zipper said.

“I need to calm down first. She saw too much,” I argued. Zipper nodded, knowing full well it could have been worse.