“Hmm?” he asked, easing her panties down her legs with his gaze lingering on what he was unveiling.
Seeing him unbuckle his belt, her question no longer seemed important. “Let me help you,” she offered. Not waiting for permission, she reached for his shirt and began to unfasten the buttons. His grin was enough reassurance as she continued to remove his shirt while he freed himself from the confines of his slacks.
Still sitting on his desk, with her nightgown bunched around her waist, and her robe forgotten, Claire ran her fingers through the softness of his chest hair. Leaning back, she unconsciously bit her bottom lip as she admired her view. Scanning her husband from head to toe, she took in his toned abs, which, even with age were still defined. As she peered lower, her eyes followed a trail of dark hair that led the way to his impressive erection. Rarely was she the one clothed, and he not. Moving her gaze back upward, their eyes met, and her cheeks flushed.
“Are you enjoying the view, Mrs. Rawlings?”
Freeing her lip, she grinned. “I am. Thank you for asking.”
Stroking himself, he asked, “Perhaps you’d rather go upstairs?”
She shook her head. Watching his hands, she suddenly thought about how much she wanted to be doing what he was doing. “No, this feels a little scandalous… I think I like it.”
“Oh, scandalous is the way I like you.”
Kneeling before the desk, Tony reached for her legs and placed one on each of his shoulders. Planting a kiss on the inside of her leg, he slowly moved upward. His dark eyes peered up. “I like my view too.”
Moments later, Claire’s moans filled the office as his tongue and fingers consumed her thoughts. Lying back on the desk and closing her eyes, memories of similar scenarios filled Claire’s mind. In time, their bodies became one, the good memories overpowered the bad, and for the second time in one day, she accepted all her husband had to offer and more. In the aftermath, as they walked hand in hand toward their suite, Claire squeezed his and whispered, “Those memories… they’re not all bad, not at all.”
His light chocolate eyes said more than words could ever convey.
Responsibility is the price of freedom.
—Elbert Hubbard
“IT DOESN’T MAKE sense. How could anyone know?” Taylor whispered to Phil.
He shook his head. “How did they know about the restaurant? I bagged these cards, just like the other one. The FBI will have them analyzed. All that matters is that the private viewing box is now clean. You stay with them in there, and I’ll stay outside the door.”
Taylor nodded. As the Rawlings family approached, she looked once again toward Phil. His headshake was almost indecipherable, but she saw it. With his unspoken statement, Taylor knew that telling Mr. or Mrs. Rawlings about the cards that had been left in Nichol and Claire’s seat should and would wait until after the play.
NICHOL’S EXCITEMENT WAS contagious as she bounced beside her mother. Her little patent-leather shoes danced with anticipation, as her eyes widened and took in all the grandeur of the Broadway theater. “Look, Momma, look, Daddy, I see the music intruments!”
Claire smiled at Tony and back at Nichol. “In-stru-ments. Yes, honey, that’s the orchestra. See the man with the wand in his hand?”
Nichol turned in amazement. “Like a magic one?”
“No, princess.” Tony’s words came through booming laughter.
“He’s the conductor,” Claire explained. “He’ll tell the orchestra when to play the music. And when he does, he’ll move the wand.”
“I want to hear them.” She turned toward Tony. “Daddy, make them start now.”
Apparently Nichol believed there was no limit to her father’s abilities.
“I could, princess.” Tony replied.
Claire shook her head. Maybe Tony wasn’t aware of his boundaries either.
Tony continued, “But see all the people who aren’t in their seats yet? If I had the orchestra start playing, they’d miss the opening act.”
Nichol pressed her lips together and wrinkled her forehead. “Then they should have gotten here sooner, like us.”
“Yes, my princess, they should have.”
Trying to distract their daughter, Claire said, “Honey, why don’t you tell your daddy about our trip to the museum yesterday?”
Her brown eyes opened wide. “I lost Sophie!”
Tony reached for her doll and handed it to his daughter. “No, you didn’t. Here she is.”
“No, Daddy, I did lost her at the maseum. She was gone! Mr. Phil found her on a bench. I didn’t mean to get her lost.”
Claire put her arm around Nichol. “It’s all right. You have her back, and yes, Mr. Phil was quite the hero. Just like the time we accidentally left her at that ice cream shop in Iowa City a few weeks ago.”
Their daughter’s dark eyes narrowed. “I didn’t lost her at the ice cream shop. She was hiding.”
Claire rubbed Nichol’s shoulder. “It’s all right. We found her there, and Mr. Phil found her yesterday.”
Nichol smiled back at Taylor. “And Miss Taylor too.”
“I’m glad you had all that help,” Tony replied. “Sophie sure has a pretty dress. It looks just like yours!”
“Mommy did that. We have matching shoes, too. See.” Nichol lifted her shoes near the doll’s feet.
“I don’t think I’ve asked you: how did you come up with that pretty name?”
“I named her for the lady who painted the pretty picture of Momma, the one of Momma in her beautiful princess dress.”
“You did?” Claire asked.
“Yep,” Nichol said. “I like her name, and she painted good. You look pretty in that picture.”
Claire’s eyes met Tony’s, seeing a hint of sadness swirl below the surface. “You’re right, princess,” he said. “She did do a good job, and your mommy looked even prettier in real life than she does in that painting.”
The theater darkened and the music began. It wasn’t until Tony had had the chance to speak with Phil during intermission that Claire noticed his change in demeanor. When he looked her way, she silently questioned him. He only shook his head and mouthed, “Later.”
Once they were back in the limousine after the show, the pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place. As Nichol snuggled against Claire’s side and watched the lights through the window, Tony said, “We’re going home tomorrow morning.”
Lowering her voice, Claire replied, “Why? What happened?”
Shaking his head, he looked down at Nichol.
“But something happened, didn’t it?” she whispered.
Tony pulled out his phone and opened up the camera application. Silently, he handed it to his wife. Adjusting her eyes to the small screen, Claire looked down at the image. The picture was of a plastic bag with an envelope with the name Nichol Rawlings printed on the outside. Claire’s forehead furrowed.
“Swipe the screen,” Tony commanded. Claire did. The next was a picture of a similar bag containing a similar envelope with the name Claire Rawlings on the outside.
“Where were these?” Claire asked, keeping her tone low.
“On our seats in the private box.”
“On our seats?” she questioned, trying unsuccessfully to speak quietly. “But we just made these reservations.”
“Roach is running leads. The reservations weren’t in our name.”
Claire looked closer at the screen and enlarged the image. “They’re different, more like the recent I’ll save you messages. The names are handwritten and it says Rawlings, not Rawls.”
Tony nodded. “Roach contacted the FBI. They’ve taken the envelopes and will call as soon as they know anything. The fact that they’re different worries me more than if they were the same.”
Claire glanced at Nichol who appeared unfazed as she stared out the window, her little eyelids growing heavy as she struggled to watch all the sights just beyond her reach. “How could anyone know where we were?” With the light from the street
and line of lights within, Claire saw Tony’s jaw clench and unclench.
“I don’t know,” her husband replied. “That isn’t all. There was another one, addressed to you, waiting at the restaurant.”
Claire’s stomach fell. “The restaurant? Where we just ate? It was waiting for me?”
Tony reached for her hand. “I’m not trying to scare you, but this is serious.”
“I agree. What did they say?”
“We don’t know. The FBI told us not to open anything. Once they do, we’ll know more.”
“Tony…” Claire peered down at Nichol, who, despite the chaos around her, had fallen asleep with her forehead against the window. “…I’m scared.”
He scooted near and pulled her closer. “I’d feel better if we were home. I have a few early meetings, but then we’re heading back to Iowa.”
Claire nodded. “I promised Nichol one more trip to FAO Schwarz and American Girl. We’ll do that first thing in the morning and then we’ll be ready to go when you’re done.” Noticing his expression, she added, “Don’t worry. We’ll have Phil and Taylor with us the entire time.”
When they arrived back to their building, Phil went up ahead to the apartment. Tony carried Nichol, Claire carried Sophie, and Taylor led the procession with Eric following closely behind. Once their apartment was declared safe, the Rawlingses were cleared to enter.
Dropping Sophie on the sofa, Claire sighed. “I know she won’t remember all of this, but this wasn’t how I envisioned Nichol’s first trip to New York.”
Tony laid their daughter on the sofa and undid her coat. “Look at her. She’s blissfully unaware.”
Claire smoothed Nichol’s hair away from her face. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened—” Tears threatened her painted lids.
“Stop,” Tony interrupted, as his strong arms surrounded Claire. “Nothing will happen. We’ll be home tomorrow.”
Claire nodded against his Armani suit jacket and gained strength with each beat of his heart.
“Let’s get Nichol into her bed. It’s been a long day.”
“All right,” Claire replied. Her eyes widened as Tony picked up Nichol. “When do you expect to hear from the FBI?”
“Hopefully tomorrow.” He started walking toward the front stairs.
“Oh, don’t forget Sophie!” Claire said, as she picked up the doll. “You have no idea how traumatic it was when she went missing. We don’t want Nichol waking in the middle of the night and not being able to find her.”
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Claire and Tony woke to the thunder of running feet as their daughter launched herself onto their bed. “Momma, Daddy, I want to go to the doll store!”
Claire looked toward the red numbers on the bedside stand. “Honey, it’s not even 6:00 AM. Look out the windows. It’s still dark. Maybe you should go back—”
Her little forehead wrinkled. “Why? You said in the morning. It’s morning.”
“Honey, the store doesn’t open—”
Not waiting for her mother to finish, Nichol asked, “When does it open?”
Claire was about to complete her suggestion that Nichol go back to sleep when Tony pulled himself up to a sitting position and tucked Nichol under his arm. “Come here, princess, let’s look at what time the store opens.”
As Tony turned on his phone, Claire shook her head. “I think that could wait until after—”
“Nichol? Where’s Sophie?” Tony asked, interrupting Claire.
“Right here,” she said, as she produced the doll from the foot of the bed.
“Oh, my. She’s still wearing her dress from last night!” Tony said.
Nichol’s eyes widened. “She is!”
“Doesn’t she have a nightgown?”
“She does.” Nichol climbed down from the big bed. “I’ll go get her jammies.”
Claire’s brow furrowed. “Since when are you concerned about her doll’s clothing?”
Instead of answering, Tony handed Claire his phone. It was open to a text message:
“MR. RAWLINGS. ALL THREE ENVELOPES AND CARDS TESTED CLEAR. THE MESSAGES WERE AS FOLLOWS: THE CARD FROM THE RESTAURANT, ADDRESSED TO MRS. RAWLINGS: ‘THIS IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR ME TO SAVE YOU. SO MANY PEOPLE IN THE CITY. SOON I WILL BE ABLE TO HELP YOU.’”
“CARD FROM THEATER, ADDRESSED TO MRS. RAWLINGS: ‘I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU CAN’T RESPOND, BUT TOMORROW. YOU WILL BE FREE TOMORROW.’”
“CARD FROM THEATER, ADDRESSED TO NICHOL RAWLINGS: ‘SOON YOU TOO WILL BE FREE.’”
Claire read the text a second time. “What is it supposed to mean? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll cancel my meetings. We’ll leave right away.”
Claire shook her head. “If we do that, this person wins. I almost felt better about the Rawls-Nichols mailings. At least they were consistent.”
Nichol came rushing back, Sophie in tow. “I didn’t put on her jammies. She’s too excited about the doll store. She wanted to get dressed.”
“She’s excited?” Claire asked.
Nichol nodded. “Yep. Daddy, when does it open?”
Tony brushed the screen. “Just a minute. Oh, here it is. American Girl opens at 9:00 AM. Look at that, you silly: we have over three hours.”
“I can’t wait free hours.” Her shoulders slumped. “That’s forever! I want to go now.”
Claire gave Nichol a big hug. “It’s not quite forever, honey, but I understand. I’d like to go now too. However, we have to wait. I know, we can eat a big breakfast so we won’t be hungry looking at all the toys. I bet Sophie would like some scrambled eggs.”
“Nope,” Nichol answered matter-of-factly. “She wants pancakes with lots of siwup.”
“Of course she does,” Tony laughed.
When 9:00 AM arrived, Claire, Tony, Nichol, Phil, and Taylor were all anxiously awaiting the opening of the American Girl store on Fifth Avenue. After a discussion with Eric, Phil, and Taylor, Tony decided to cancel his meetings and stay close to Claire and Nichol. Still blissfully unaware, Nichol bounced in her seat, excited to have her whole family see the store.
Phil watched the entrance for suspicious patrons while Taylor stayed by Nichol’s side. Claire had arranged for a personal shopper to help guide Nichol to the areas of the store that interested her most, and the nice woman was waiting for their arrival. As she ushered Nichol about, Tony and Claire followed closely behind.
With each new section of the giant store, Claire began to relax. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just before they were to leave, Nichol tugged on her mother’s hand and whispered that she needed to use the restroom. They handed Sophie to Taylor who followed them into the restroom. As soon as Nichol and Claire entered a stall, the commotion began. It happened so fast that it was difficult to keep up.
The tile walls and floors only amplified the sounds as rants and crashes echoed throughout the bathroom. Nichol’s brown eyes grew to the size of saucers when she looked to her mother and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Shush, honey,” Claire whispered, hugging Nichol close to her thundering heart.
Saying a silent prayer, Claire moved her and her daughter to the back of the stall. Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she stared at the latch, held Nichol tighter, and listened as the commotion waxed and waned. Claire didn’t know what or who had started the racket, but soon she heard not only Taylor’s voice but also Phil’s. Almost immediately, the chaos brought others. Though multiple people shouted, it wasn’t until Claire heard the deep baritone voice that her world was made right and she even considered opening the stall door.
“Claire,” Tony called. “Are you all right? Come out.”
With trembling fingers, Claire opened the latch. Her heart found its steady beat as her gaze blended into the dark eyes. Walking to her husband, she turned just in time to see the back of a man being led away by store security, his wrists cuffed.
“…you don’t understand,” the man protested. “She needs me. I love her, and she lov
es me. I need to save her from him…” His words trailed away as Claire melted against Tony, who held Nichol tight.
“What happened?” Nichol’s usually strong tone shook with uncertainty.
With a smile on his face and concern in his eyes, Phil joined the group. “Everything is fine, Nichol. Remember, Taylor and I are here to keep you safe?”
Nichol nodded.
“Well, Taylor has something of yours.”
They all turned toward Taylor as she presented Sophie back to Nichol. “That man wanted to make a lot of noise. It’s a good thing I was here, because he didn’t get a chance to get near Sophie. But I think she needs you, don’t you?”
Pursing her lips together, Nichol nodded and said, “Thank you, Miss Taylor.” Reaching for Sophie, she held her tight, still safe within her parents’ embrace.
Once they were back in the limousine and on their way to the apartment, Phil began to share the information they’d learned. Apparently, a man in his mid-thirties had been waiting in one of the stalls. He opened the door, as soon as Claire and Nichol entered another stall. Of course, Taylor saw him immediately and was on top of him. “The man’s name is Rudolf. He has a history of delusional behavior. From his mutterings, it seems that he read Ms. Bank’s book, My Life As it Didn’t Appear, and has since devoted his time to an effort to save and free you, Claire.”
Claire shook her head. “Save me? Free me from what… the book?”
Taylor shook her head. “As Phil said, Rudolf is delusional. He’s been arrested before for celebrity stalking. They’ll do more detailed psychological tests, but it seems that he believed the circumstances of the book are current, not past. He believed that you’re currently in danger.”
Through clenched teeth, Tony proclaimed, “I hate that damn book.”
“What else did this Rudolf say?” Claire asked.
“He was very forthcoming,” Phil replied. “He’s been following you for a while. However, we still aren’t sure how he knew your schedule. I know your phones and computers are clean. I check them daily.”
Beyond the Consequences Page 5