Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (13 page)

“It wasn’t alone that’s for sure. It started small. An economics class taught us what we needed to know. We decided to start investing, using allowance or money earned from odd jobs in my case. We picked stocks, invested, made a lot of great decisions. And learned from big mistakes made. Then we diversified once we were all a bit older and wiser. We bought our first restaurant after I graduated from college. One little restaurant turned into many, then hotels, and resorts, and now Pentagram, which will be our biggest yet. Not even Pentacles in Vegas is as big as Pentagram will be. Sometimes starting small can grow exponentially. We’ve all done well professionally, making time for independent practices. Matt and Zipper never really wanted to devote all their time. They had specific goals while in boarding school, and they never changed after going to college. Matt was going to be a doctor like his parents. And Zipper was going to be an attorney like his father. Their commitment to the business remains strong,” he concluded.

‘Until I came along,’ I thought. Matt was willing to walk away from them during prenup negotiations. Not from the business, per say, but certainly from the friendship; in deference to my wishes.

“Why was Pentagram so important both of you stole information?” I needed to know. He stared defiantly at me, taking a sip of his amber liquid before answering.

“We needed to know what we could offer the Wendorfs for the property. Everyone else had sold. We couldn’t start construction until we had the last piece of property. We had other design plans to do three-quarters of the design, but it wasn’t feasible to keep one portion open and then do the other half at another point in time. When I learned you worked there, I thought it would be a perfect opportunity for me to reconnect with you, but the universe had other plans,” he smirked.

“Why didn’t you just tell Matt about me and our connection?”

“What was I to say? I have a crush on her, so let me at it. I wasn’t sure you’d be interested. I don’t take well to rejection,” he admitted, which I thought was an interesting, albeit slightly frightening admission. “While we had a deadline, pushing forward with Plan B, I planned to take it slow with us. Reacquaint ourselves first before seeking inside info.

“Did you guys break in while the office was closed? How did you come upon the information without any of us knowing?

“The key you held was one of three. Only you, Ross and Alice had one. Not even the other part timers, like Jake, had a master key,” he enlightened me to who participated in getting the information.

“What did Jake get before quitting?” I asked agitated.

“He managed to find files within the file cabinet which gave financial information of their debts. They took out a second mortgage on their home. Ross’s pension from his forced retirement wasn’t enough to sustain the business and all their debt. You were quite helpful in increasing business, but you must have noticed stagnation in revenue since you went to work at Duration?”

I nodded, and asked, “What else did you find?”

“Her last will and testament, which she’d redone, gave you half with the proviso that you must work full time and not sell for at least five years from date of bequeath.”

‘If they were in such financial debt, why would Alice ever leave it to me?’ I pondered.

“So you made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.” I asked.

“All our offers were generous, but upon learning of the debt and the will, we knew who to really work with. Ross was crucial. He bent easily and convinced his wife. I know it must have been a hard decision for her to make, but it was truly for the best. Neither of you would have been able to sustain the business. You do know that don’t you?” He asked.

He was right. With Pentagon’s takeover of the entire region, Liberty wouldn’t have managed to sustain business, especially during construction of the entire sector.

Finding a chair, I sat down to think. “Have you done that kind of thing before?”

“What?” he asked feigning ignorance.

“Using people for personal gain?” I asked, looking at him square in the eyes.

Without turning away, he said, “Yes, many times.”

“Matt was afraid you were involved in the first kidnapping attempt. Since Aida confessed, I know it isn’t true . . . Matt said something about your methods being unethical, bordering on criminal. I need to know the truth, have you done anything illegal?” I feared asking, but did so in order to ensure my future safety.

“There’s nothing I can tell you. All I can do is make sure you’re always safe,” he said.

“Why won’t you tell me? Is it so bad? Or do you not trust me enough to reveal your transgressions?”

“It has nothing to do with trust. It has everything to do with you not being involved in anything other than what Pentagon does as a corporate entity. You’re doing your job well, and it’s all you need to continue to do.”

“Do you associate with criminals?” I asked, pressing.

“All I will say is I associate with a diverse group of people, some from the neighborhood and others met over the years. When you come from where we come from, you need to take care of your family, friends, and acquaintances. Many don’t have the background or the means to even live with the basics. I ensure they have options. I employ them to do what they do best,” he informed.

Although I had many questions, I stopped pressing.

“I missed my meeting with the police today. Can I meet with them tomorrow?”

“Sure. We’ll meet with them when we get back from fishing. Do you want a drink?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes as he turned to the bar. I didn’t’ want another day to go by without giving my account of what happened.

“No. I don’t drink.”

“Oh, I thought you enjoyed a nice drink or three. You were really tossing them back at the club the night you hooked up with Matt,” he recalled. I cringed.

“Not anymore. I’ve stopped since overdoing it the night of my first kidnapping,” I said. He didn’t respond. I watched him mix drinks. When he was done, he handed me a reddish, fizzy drink. “What is this?” I asked.

“Ginger ale and cranberry juice,” he said. My heart ceased when I realized he remembered my non-alcoholic drink of choice. The only time he would have become aware of it would have been the first time I met the Pentagon men at Carve Restaurant. I gulped down the knot in my throat by taking a drink.

“It’s great, thanks.” I responded. There was so much I wanted to know, but there were so many emotions coursing through me. Brady was giving me an opportunity to get to know him better. While I believed he was telling me the truth. There were so many indications he was withholding information, but for the night, I let it go.

Brady sat with a fresh drink in hand, and proceeded to look at me with a grin. “What?” I asked.

“I just can’t believe, after so many years apart, we are sitting here together,” he said shyly.

The sweet words and his toothy smile gave me an ominous feeling, and I took a drink to contain the shiver willing itself to wash over me.

*****

True to his word, Brady tried to romance me without touching me. He sat beside me at the table, both of us looking out toward the darkening ocean. A candle light dinner was laid out on the patio. The sounds of the ocean and the various critters which surrounded the land were especially loud, providing a comfortable background noise. Margarita served us each a plate of lobster, which looked like a prehistoric creature.

“What’s this?” I nearly shrieked.

“Lobster?”

“Really?”

He laughed, “Yes. It’s a spiny lobster found in these waters.” When I refused to touch it Brady took my plate and began releasing the meat from within the shell. He dipped a piece in a clarified butter and reached over to feed me.

“I’ll take my plate now. Thank you,” I said. He nodded sadly.

“Too forward.”

“You wouldn’t want me accepting food from the fingers of another man if I were your gal, would you?”

“I wouldn’t want him breathing your same air space, no,” he retorted, looking at me genuinely.

I looked down at my plate, cut a piece of filet mignon, and tasted the tender and juicy piece of beef.

“The beef is so great, where do you get such high quality meat in the country?”

“It’s from my ranch about 30 miles from here. They bring fresh meat when they know I’m home. We sell it to the resorts and cruise lines which stop on the island,” he stated. I was so impressed with his operation.

“Do you always have some hustle going?”

“Hustle?” He asked.

“A gig . . . a money making operation. It just seems wherever the Pentagon men are, there’s a business.” I answered.

“We do have our hands in a lot of things. A lot of it has to do with wanting to spark the economy wherever we go. We know we can provide jobs or opportunities for the residents. If we can teach them how to use their land efficiently for breeding cows to sell the milk, cheese, and meat, then they can be more self-sustaining. They create income streams for themselves. They’re building blocks to progress. I have my farm land where we raise livestock and dairy cows. We sell everything at low cost to the less fortunate. We give out loans at low interest rates based on the proceeds. We give seminars for increasing their business, being more fiscally efficient, and saving for retirement or reinvesting within themselves or support of others,” he stated.

“I implore our business partners and residents to support each other and be at the ready to contribute when there are national disasters. My charity has paired up with the Church, orphanage and local school to provide donations of whatever they need; food, clothing, repairs to homes, and education. We provide salaries for all the teachers and caretakers at the school and orphanage. It’s all about community,” he said.

Every word uttered brightened my smile and melted my heart. As he continued, I listened, learning more about his true spirit. He dispelled my bias that he only wanted financial gain. It could have been about profit, but it was most about preservation of land and community; my countrymen’s land and my fellow citizen’s society. I was impressed, warming up to him.

The conversation flowed easily as he continued to tell me of all the things he’s done around the world. Not only was Brady a businessman, building his empire, but he was a philanthropist. He told of many charitable causes near and dear to his heart.

“Cancer charities are most important. We’ve both seen how it ravages the sufferer. Worst of all, it leaves every one of the sufferer’s loved one in utter devastation. I know what you’re mom meant to you. Ensuring a cure or efficient treatment is most important to me,” he finished wistfully. He stopped talking, looking at the horizon.

The sun finally set off the ocean, and we watched in silence as soft Spanish music played in the background. By the end of the night, he was no longer Brady, the tough business man who I thought ruined my life, but Shay, the boy who ensured to keep me safe whenever we were together. While I felt serene in his presence, I also worried that in such a short time, he was accomplishing what he challenged me to do—fall for him.

I woke up before Margarita could wheel the noisy cart into the bedroom. I prepared for the day: showering; dressing in a one piece swimsuit; and layering it with a light dress. Brady told me I could swim in the ocean. I told him a city girl doesn’t ‘do sharks’. He laughed gregariously at my joke. And I smiled. It was so easy to converse with him, recalling the past. It was cathartic to reminisce about my mom and brother when no one in my family wanted to deal with their loss. It was as if my remaining family members wanted to put them in the past, and I was still trying to hold onto the memories.

Shay was a great listener, as well as storyteller. He enlightened me about Pentagon’s history, his climb to success, and helping his family and friends. There was one moment when I listened and watched him, thinking I missed out on so much time with him. I could have learned so much, having an ear to listen to my grief. I lived in deafening silence and loneliness for so long. I found a lover in Matt, but Shay began to feel like my soul mate.

I found my breakfast on the table. Margarita was long gone. Being alone was more stressful than spending time with Shay. Matt was always on my mind, missing him with each invading memory. Whenever I’d have a strong emotional connection to Shay, I’d feel guilty and think of Matt, making me physically sick. The time apart was stressful, and I couldn’t imagine what Matt was going through. Even with sending word of my wellbeing, I knew Matt wouldn’t give up trying to get me back without delay. I squashed my tears. Missing Matt was like experiencing withdrawal from a powerfully addictive drug.

I wanted to be with Matt because he was the one I loved, but strong feelings and a growing emotional connection to Shay surged through me. My body certainly didn’t betray Matt. I would never allow Shay to touch me or kiss me. However, I remembered how he kissed the right spot during the escape from our captors. It was a light kiss. He probably couldn’t keep himself from acting out his deepest desires. Shay’s closeness in the tight-quartered ATV or us watching the sunset was innocent, but quite meaningful experiences. Admittedly, the desire to feel him once more against my body, writhing in between my legs and touching my skin as he tasted me crept into my thoughts.

I blamed ‘time’. Time had been against us from the moment he came into my life. Our age difference was the obstacle which kept us apart. If we were closer in age, our relationship would have developed much sooner. I probably would have been Mrs. Seamus Michael Clay; or Mrs. Brady Clay as he represented himself to the world. Part of me lamented the missed connection. We traveled in opposite paths. Shay went to boarding school then to college in California. I wasn’t enough to keep him closer.

The traitorous thoughts made me think of Matt. I recalled our time together, fostering our love. In my quiet moments, taking in a full breath of air, made me think of his body against mine. It kept me hotter than the humid temps of the Caribbean. Every fiber of my body tingled with thoughts of him, wondering how he was doing in my absence. To keep him close to my heart, preventing Shay from invading Matt’s claimed spot, I revisited every sexual encounter we’ve had. Time apart wouldn’t dull my need for Matt, but the slow ticking clock which kept me away from him was helping Shay seep into my cracked, stony heart.

One whiff of black coffee with none of my soy or almond milk turned my stomach. Because of my churning stomach, I pushed it away. I was hungry, but didn’t have the inclination to eat. I took a bite of the scrambled eggs and mashed plantains, a staple breakfast in the country. I felt sad, thinking of my mother eating the same meal throughout her life. I gave up on eating, concerned I would get seasick with a full stomach.

Outside of the double doors, Shay swam the length of the pool. Instantly, I bit my lip and felt giddy inside. The grin, which curled the corners of my mouth, promptly frowned. My warm tingly feelings signaled trouble. The sophisticated, handsome, and super rich man, who attempted to make me fall in love with him with his romantic tactics, was winning the battle. Despite the years apart, he knew deep down what I needed, and in rapid succession he was breaking down my defenses.

*****

The water was calm, and the sun burned high and harsh in the sky. The yacht was as big and ostentatious as I expected. He showed me around the one hundred forty foot yacht. The four bedroom vessel hosted nine people, but more in a party setting. Shay stated he got the reasonably smallest for his economic status. He wanted to ensure the yacht was easy to sail the waters around the region. He would have preferred one which accommodated over twenty with crew, but was pleased with the size and amenities.

The crew of four greeted us, taking our order for lunch and drinks. I felt nervous excitement as we took off to open waters, remaining seated on the top deck where our drinks were served. We sat beside each other, watching the yacht cut through the waves of the ocean. Other boats, yachts, and working vessels were sprinkled around the waterway. When we arrived at our designated spot, the crew released a smaller vessel from the back of the yacht. We were helped down to the small boat.

Before taking the helm, Shay ensured I sat wearing my life vest. I watched as he maneuvered the small boat to the location he wanted us to fish, which was away from other boats and his yacht. Once he anchored the boat, he proceeded to instruct me. We sat in silence for a long while, holding our fishing rods, until a memory cropped up.

“You used to take Tommy fishing, right?” I remembered the summer when they went to fish at the pier.

“Yeah, my grandfather taught me, and my mom suggested I take Tommy to fish when she saw him hanging out with some unsavory characters,” he sounded just like Maggie, and I giggled.

“What?”

“You sound like your mom with her slight brogue.”

“Oh, do I now,” he thickened his accent.

His mother had arrived to America from Ireland about five years before Shay’s older brother was born. She was a nanny to a wealthy family until she married a local guy and started raising a family. When Shay’s father died in an automobile accident, Maggie was left to raise three boys on her own.

A tug on my line pulled me forward and I gripped the fishing line, calling out, “I got something.” I shrieked like a little girl who was both excited and repulsed. Coming up behind me, he grabbed my forearms, sliding his strong hands over my sensitive skin. My breasts betrayed my heart when my nipples hardened, and heat rushed all over my body. I relished his warm arms over mine, but simultaneously wanted to recoil from his nearness. I pulled away slightly, not wanting his breath near the erogenous zone on my neck. He pulled me close, backing me into him as the creature on the line pulled us both.

Our bodies moved as one, pressing tighter against each other. Both of us concentrated on reeling in. For many minutes we warred with the catch, waiting for the fish to stop fighting. Once it tired, we could pull it in slowly. I got nervous, but remained steadfast, helping him work it in. By the amount of time and energy we spent on trying to catch the fish, Shay thought we had a marlin. Once it tired, Brady had me release the fishing pole to his capable hands. I slinked out from underneath him, and watched as he continued to pull and reel.

I saw a tug on his line, and I went over to retrieve the pole, which was set down on a stand. My hands ached from trying to reel in my fish, but this one was lighter and I could manage pulling, waiting, reeling, and repeating the process over and over. I saw the head of the fish crest. After some time, I managed to pull it closer to the boat, pulling it out of the water. I dropped the large fish on the boat’s floor, retreating as it flopped aggressively. Shay made a celebratory sound, looking over at the gasping fish.

“Do we keep it?” I asked.

“Yeah, you got a Wahoo. I can’t believe you brought that sucker in all by yourself. It’s big.” He complimented. I beamed, feeling every second of my struggle with the large fish. I wanted to sit, but he exclaimed, “You’re going to have to help me out, okay? Whatever you caught is strong and still fighting,” he said.

The boat rocked. I nodded as he reeled and tugged us backwards, slackening and then reeling again. “My arms are burning,” he said.

Shay lifted his arm up for me to slip back within his body, feeling each rippling muscle of his torso against my back. He tensed and relaxed with each attempt to reel and slacken the fish. My body was pulled into him, restricting my brain from feeling his cock on my ass. I bit my lip at feeling how hard he was, and I quantified he was in the moment of the capture. His adrenalin was racing, lactic acid was building in his body, and the machismo of capturing a big beast of the sea was the cause for his intense physical reaction.

When we finally saw the head of the fish exposed, it was “a Mahi Mahi”, Shay exclaimed.

Not giving up without a fight, the Mahi Mahi continued its attempts to free itself. Feeling Shay hard and needy behind me, his breath jagged and labored, and his body keeping me in his grip in front of him, I said, “Why don’t we just give up? Cut it loose.”

I heard him grunt primitively, sucking in air, “You don’t give up. A good fisherman knows to wait out the fish . . . until it tires and submits.”

I couldn’t help but catch his double meaning.

We held on a long while until sure enough the fish tired and we both pulled it close to the boat. Shay held onto the rod with one hand while I kept both mine on. He pulled us sideways, stooping down, until he grasped a net with his free hand. As we pulled the large, long heavy fish onto the boat, Shay put the net underneath the fish, holding the pole under his arm. My arms and hands felt relief when I released the hard grip on the rod. I couldn’t believe how exhilarating deep sea fishing could be.

“We’ll have a couple of great meals with this catch,” he said, beaming a boyish grin.

‘How could I not remember his grin?’ I thought. I soon remembered Brady never smiled at me. Shay smiled broadly and delightedly over our quick acquisition. It was the same smile as the sixteen-year-old boy I knew.

After removing the hook, he opened a door on the side of the boat and slipped the large fish in. I heard the rattle as it was lain inside. He walked over to my fish. “This is a big one too. You pulled this one all on your own, amazing,” he complimented.

I grinned like a bright eyed child. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I lay down on the bench seat, watching him set my fish in the other ice chest.

“What? Are you tired?” Shay teased.

“Hell, yes. I can’t feel my arms,” I whined.

He approached and crouched down to look at my hands. He saw the red, tender swelling which rose from my palms, caressing them lightly. Checking my forearm, he saw where the reel collided with my flesh. He pulled my arm, bending to kiss the reddish spot. As soon as his lips touched me, I flinched at the betrayal of letting another man tenderly nurture me. I pulled out of his grip and sat up.

“I’m fine,” I assured, feeling like I’d betrayed Matt.

He nodded, staring at me with his greenish, hazel eyes devoid of gentility, filled with yearning. He turned away and went to the helm. I thought he was planning to raise anchor, turn the boat, and return to the Yacht. However, soft music started playing. It was a Bolero; slow Latin ballads my mother played often. I remember once sneaking into the living room and watching my mother dance with my father when he arrived late from work. He held her so affectionately, which delighted and disturbed me to see passion emanating from my parents.

“Dance with me,” I shook my head ‘no’, needing space to let the emotions subside. The exhilaration of catching fish was diminishing.

The song was about a lover who was leaving the man, and he implored her to stay, claiming he never wanted anyone else.

“Please,” he whispered.

My mother taught me never to deny a man a chaste dance. I placed my hands at the appropriate points for dancing, thinking of Matt and how he and I danced at Lumiere the night I went home with him. Our dance was full of lust and yearning. Shay held me at a respectable distance, like a gentleman at a cotillion, who didn’t want to wrinkle the dress. I smiled as I danced with Shay in the middle of the ocean; the sun spotlighting us; heartbreaking music filling the air; and the waves lulling me into peacefulness.

“What?” He asked. Shamefaced, I shook my head. “What?” he shook me closer.

“You’re dancing like I’m the old lady dance instructor no one wants to get close to,” I joked. He laughed, pulling me close. I stood on tip toes.

“What are you doing?” He smirked.

“Getting taller. You’re too tall.”

“I’m only 6’1”,” he confirmed.

“Well, to dance to these songs, I would wear heels, and I don’t have any. Tiptoe dancing is easier. Don’t question me. I’m a professional,” I finished.

He smiled, pulling me close. I pulled away, twirling slowly. Leading him in the dance was obviously not permissible because he frowned and pulled me back toward his body. I collided with his hard physique, and I gasped. I felt lightheaded as I dared capture his gaze. The look in his eyes was so heated and expectant. Leaning in to kiss me, I pulled away again.

“Shay, you promised ‘no touching’,” I reminded. He closed his eyes and nodded. “Let’s just dance, like the friends we are,” I suggested.

“You know it’s not possible,” he gritted gently, pulling away from my body and releasing my hands. “This was a mistake,” he concluded. My heart palpitated.