and Juan’s new home entertained and delighted her thoughts.
A new gator tattoo had the healing itch inside her right thigh. She and her cousin, Anne Bianca, or Annie, celebrated Dominica’s engagement a week earlier by getting matching tattoos. Dominica and Annie were cousins and best friends. They graduated from Providence College together. Today, Annie was driving north from Sarasota to south Tampa. They had lunch planned. Dominica walked towards her car thinking a Cobb salad would top off what had so far been a very relaxing morning.
A tall, muscular man wearing a Marlins baseball cap approached from behind her along the water’s edge. He abruptly angled in Dominica’s direction and began walking next to her. Dominica attracted unwanted attention even when she covered her bikini clad, five foot, eight inch lean, tan frame with plain cover-ups. Today, she wore a light blue, knee length sleeveless cotton tunic.
She glanced at the muscular man. He seemed harmless except for his five foot, ten inch, muscle-bound frame. Her dad was a big guy and could look really scary at times, especially when angry. She flashed back to his most scary moment. When Dom was three years old, she spit at him when he asked her to pick her clothes off her bedroom floor. He grabbed a handful of the front of her t-shirt, pulled her nose to nose and simply said in a terrifying voice, ‘Never do that again.’ She never spit at him again.
Dom noticed the man’s dark tattooed forearms accentuated by his short-sleeve bright yellow polo shirt. His tan shorts made him look like the average beachcomber. She moved further inland, away from this spaceater.
She perceived a short, stocky woman on her opposite side making a bee-line in her direction. Mr. muscles saw Dom’s head turned away from him and he swiftly closed in on her from the ocean’s side. She stopped to scan left then right with a frown on her face. Turning quickly in their direction, putting them both in front of her, she boisterously asked “Can I help you?”
The stocky woman smiled and moved quickly at her. She stuck a 38 Smith & Wesson Special into Dominica’s side. “Start walking,” the woman hissed.
The man said in a thick Russian accent, “We not here for hurt you. You must come with us, no fusses.”
Dominica looked around for help or a way to escape. She had experiences with big rough people in her life. Her father had a few scary looking friends, so she didn’t panic. She scanned the empty beach for help. Seeing no one, she began to walk towards the frontage road with them behind. She demanded, “What’s this about?”
Without speaking, they kept on walking to Dominica’s Arctic Silver, Porsche Carrera. The woman said, “Give me car keys and phone.” Dominica faltered, realizing these two were foreigners, and then acquiesce. That didn’t matter, she was growing madder by the second. She watched as the stocky woman opened her car door, threw her phone and keys onto the driver’s seat. “Hey,” she protested! “Someone might come along and steal my car.” She reached for the car door trying to stall thinking about an escape move. She thought about running towards the basketball court down the street where young men were playing their morning pickup game.
As she was about to make a move, the muscular man pushed Dominica towards a dark, Ford SUV park across the street from the Porsche. A short skinny, pale man in his thirties opened the SUV’s back door. Dominica vacillated. The muscular man shoved her into the door’s opening. “Get in,” he commanded.
The woman stuck the gun on Dominica's side again. “Move,” she demanded. Dominica stepped into the SUV. The skinny man produced plastic zip ties and a black hood. He tied Dominica’s hands behind her and covered her head. “Relax,” he said as their vehicle pulled away from the side of the road. “Our orders are not to hurt you, if possible.” He emphasized the ‘if possible’.
They pulled away from the curb. Within a few minutes and after several turns she felt like they were cruising down a highway. Dominica wriggled and twisted to free herself. “Relax missy,” the skinny man said. “We have a long ride ahead of us.”
Through her hood she yelled at her abductors. “Do you know who I am? - I am Dominica Bianca!”
Chapter 2
Juan Oneca, a youthful Tampa attorney, looked up from his desk. He took off his glasses and began cleaning them. Right then Nancy, his petite paralegal secretary, opened his office door and announced two potential clients. Lucy McCann and Sean Jackson stood behind her. Juan observed the two casually dressed young adults in their early 30’s behind Nancy.
Juan noticed that Nancy balanced herself on her four-inch, pointed-toed pumps. Juan smiled asking Nancy, “New shoes?” Nancy worked hard on her new legal image.
Nancy was cloning herself into ‘Donna’ from the TV program ‘Suits’. Nancy’s blushing, pinkish face complimented her black slit-sleeve dress. She was making the adjustment from dressing down in jeans and sneakers to looking like a professional legal secretary. She answered, “Yes. Do you like the makeover?”
Juan nodded, grinned and welcomed Lucy and Sean. He shook their hands and walked them to the leather coach in the glass-walled corner of his office. The corner view overlooked a waterway lined with trails for bikers, joggers and dog walkers. This time of day the sun reflected off the river and danced as sparkling diamonds. Juan fought switching mental priorities from wedding preparations to being friendly and understanding towards his potential new clients.
His private cell phone’s ringtone sang Madonna’s ‘Material Girl’. He recognized the caller immediately as Carol. Juan excused himself saying, “Possible Foundation matter, sorry! Hopefully, this will only take a minute.” Lucy and Sean eye’s grinned at each other. They knew of Juan’s association with the ‘1 Law 4 All Foundation’. In fact, that was their reason for seeking his services.
Nancy set a silver tray on the glass coffee table supported by a family of bronze dolphins. The ice water pitcher and glasses dripped with condensation. Lucy said, “Thanks” and reached for the glass closest to her and a napkin for wiping the drips off the glass. She calmly sipped the water while Juan took Carol’s call.
Carol, one of Juan’s ‘1 Law 4 All’ partners bubbled through the phone. “How are the wedding plans coming? Kitiona and I can’t wait to get there. We have brainstormed the ball room’s ‘country love’ theme. Tell Dominica that every place setting will include silver bells with your pictures! We’ve been calling her all morning to tell her, but she’s not answering her phone.”
Juan looked at his watch. “She’s probably taking her ‘vortex’ beach walk about now. Try her again this afternoon. We’re planning a dessert tasting session later today.”
Carol laughed. “Remember, I’m a chocoholic. May I suggest a chocolate and white dessert theme? I can imagine…..”
Juan cut her off. “Sorry miss chocolate freak, I have clients. You and Kitiona can have chocolate dreams on your own time. We’ll talk later.”
Kitiona was a beautiful Samoan young lady with a part Japanese, Euro-Asian background. Only in her mid-twenties, she founded the ‘1 Law 4 All' Foundation. Her settlement from the pockets of a wealthy, treacherous U.S. Senator led to the Foundation’s financial start-up. She lost her family in a fire that consumed her American Samoa home and killed her entire immediate family. The longtime senator Bonni Giardina of San Francisco ordered the arson. Only the inking of Kitiona’s full back tattoo saved her from being home the night of the fire.
Kitiona noticed Carol’s dazed look. Carol said, “He hung up.” Shaking
