The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  Thankfully, the sprinklers had stopped and the smoke had begun to dissipate. Tony stood. Hastings’ words were ridiculous. Shaking his head, Tony freed droplets of water from his saturated hair, causing them to descend down his forehead and blur his vision. Continuing to hold Nichol tight, Tony said, “Get out of my way. I don’t know what you’re saying. Claire Rawlings is my wife.” His voice rose in volume. “Get out of my way!”

  Two individuals began to assess Claire as a female police officer came forward. “Mr. Rawlings, is that Ms. Nichols’ daughter?”

  “This is our daughter.” He spoke as his attention went to a gurney being lowered on a scissor-like contraption with wheels next to Claire. Simultaneously another similar contraption was wheeled next to Catherine, as more people with dark blue coats surrounded her.

  The female’s voice empathized, “Please, Mr. Rawlings, let me take your daughter out of this chaos. Let me get her in the fresh air.”

  “No.” Tony stood resolute. “No, I’ll take her. But first she needs to see her mother. Claire needs to know we’re all right.”

  “Ms. Nichols will be taken away to some place where we can assess her needs, and then she’ll be held while we determine what happened here.”

  “Mrs. Rawlings! Her name is Claire Rawlings. Stop calling her Nichols!” As Tony’s voice grew louder, Nichol’s tiny face contorted, and her cries resumed. “What do you mean held? Claire didn’t do anything wrong. We were acting in self-defense.” Tony stopped. “I’m not saying anymore until I have my attorneys.” He stood helplessly as an unconscious Claire was moved to the gurney. “Where are you taking her? Is she hurt? If she is, she needs medical attention.” Turning his attention away from the two police officers, Tony searched for Phil. “Roach? Roach?! Where are you?”

  Officer Hastings spoke, “Mr. Rawlings, why would Ms. Nichols be hurt? Did you hurt her?”

  Tony stared incredulously. “Of course I didn’t hurt her. Stop. Calling. Her. Nichols. Her. Name. Is. Rawlings.”

  “Mr. Rawlings, I must insist that you hand the child over to Officer O’Brien.”

  Ignoring Hastings’ command, Tony saw Phil heading out of the office with Claire’s gurney. “Roach! Roach?”

  Hearing Tony’s call, Phil stopped and looked his way. Obviously torn between staying with Claire or returning to Tony, Phil hesitated for only a second before he walked back to Tony. Not waiting for a question, he explained, “They said they’re going to take her to the hospital first and assess her for injuries.”

  Tony tried to make sense of it all, yet nothing made sense.

  “Mr. Rawling—” Hastings began. Tony pulled his arm away from Hastings’ reach. “Mr. Rawlings, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Ms. London.”

  “Mr. Rawlings,” Officer O’Brien pleaded, “please, allow me to take your daughter.”

  “No! No, you’re not touching my daughter. She needs to see her mother.” Tony looked toward Phil. “You take Nichol to Claire. Keep her with Claire until Claire can care for her. I’ll get this settled in no time. I didn’t attempt to murder Ms. London. If I had, I would’ve succeeded.”

  Before handing Nichol to Phil, Tony gently placed a kiss on her forehead and tugged her closer to his chest. Three months of memories swarmed his mind, from the first time Madeline laid his daughter in his arms to their nightly private rock and chat sessions. He imagined the sweet smell of her after a bath, the way her little legs kicked in the warm water, and the way her eyelids became heavy after she’d eaten. The thought of being separated from his daughter for even a minute hurt like no physical pain ever could.

  Inhaling her sweet baby scent, Tony calmed his voice and whispered, “It will be all right, my princess. Momma will be with you soon, and Daddy will be back to you just as soon as he can.” Gazing into her big brown eyes, he continued, “Take care of your momma and don’t forget me.”

  One more kiss to her forehead and Tony handed Nichol to Phil. Once Tony’s arms were free of Nichol, Officer O’Brien placed handcuffs on Tony’s wrist.

  “Mr. Rawlings,” the first officer said, “you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—”

  “Roach,” Tony interrupted. “Have Eric contact Rawlings Industries. I want my legal team to meet me at the police station.”

  Phil nodded as they led Anthony Rawlings away, continuing his Miranda rights.

  THE FIRST FEW MINUTES were a blur. Once they got Tony to the police station, his litany of crimes would come to light. It was Claire’s nightmare, the reason she hadn’t wanted him to travel to the United States. Their one-year reprieve would be null and void. The FBI would never swoop in and save them. They wouldn’t allow their family to return to paradise for the remaining nine months. Tony knew in the pit of his stomach that his time was up—at least for a while. He silently prayed that it wouldn’t take too long. He had money. He’d spend every last dime to get back to Claire and Nichol as soon as possible.

  Tony’s normally quiet estate bustled with people and vehicles. Fire trucks ran long hoses through the corridors, creating an obstacle course as Officer Hastings led Tony toward the outside. His house staff stood huddled together on the bricked driveway, silently watching their runaway boss. He’d been missing for months and now he was being forced into the back of a police car—arrested. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t tried to kill Catherine: if it weren’t for the damn videotapes, he’d confess to being the one who shot her, anything to save Claire. He couldn’t bear the thought of his wife spending one day or even one hour in a prison cell. He’d done that to her once; he would move heaven and hell to stop it from happening again.

  Just before settling into the back of the police car, Tony saw Emily rush toward Roach. Hatred seeped with reddening intensity as Tony took in his sister-in-law. This was all her fault. He and his family would be safe in paradise if she hadn’t been so damned determined to learn Claire’s secrets from Catherine. And now she was reaching for Nichol. Tony closed his eyes and prayed—silently demanded—for Claire to wake. She needed to be there for their daughter.

  Tony stiffened his shoulders as he searched for answers. How could everything go so terribly wrong in such a short period of time? Despite the cool March Iowa air, perspiration beaded upon Tony’s brow and a wave of nausea sucked the breath from his lungs.

  Brent.

  Brent Simmons. Was. Dead.

  Claire would wake. Tony would undoubtedly have a price to pay, but Brent was dead. Tony couldn’t buy back his friend’s life. He couldn’t alleviate the pain that Courtney must be enduring. It was all Catherine’s doing!

  What about Derek Burke? What about Sophia? Red grew. Questions multiplied and lurched forward in his mind. It was all happening too fast to register. Did they find Sophia asleep upstairs? Did anyone even go look? How was she dealing with the loss of her husband? It was too much! More questions than answers raced at untold speed. The vendetta continued to snowball out of control.

  Crimson covered his world!

  Claire. Nichol. Brent. Courtney. Sophia.

  The mental toll needed an outlet: physical release took hold. He lunged forward and purged the red as vomit splattered the floor-mat to the right of Tony’s feet.

  Chapter Two

  March 2014

  Phil

  The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.

  —Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  DESPITE THE WAY his training screamed at Phil to disappear into the chaos, he couldn’t do it, especially not after Rawlings so trustingly placed Nichol in his arms. Phil didn’t know anything about babies, but common sense told him that the little girl with her daddy’s eyes and lungs was not happy. The saturated blanket wrapped around her tiny body had been her only protection from the icy water that had rained moments earlier from the sprinkler system as mayhem erupted all around her. Removing the wet blanket, Phil unzipped his jacket and pulled Nichol to his warm chest. Covering her again with the warm
dry material, he pulled the zipper over her, all the while being cautious to avoid her fine dark hair. Almost instantly, her loud cries mellowed, her little fist found its way to her mouth, and her eyes contently closed.

  Fleetingly, Phil wondered how he’d thought to hold her against his body. He was warm: she was cold. It made sense. Only a few times in his life had he been this close to a child, and every time was with Nichol. He wasn’t the type of man to show affection. It wasn’t in his DNA. Without a doubt, his comfort level was higher in setting his sights on a marked man than cradling a baby under his jacket. The other times that Phil had held Nichol were at Claire’s insistence. Shielding Nichol from the stiff breeze, he made his way out of the estate as memories surfaced of the first time Claire had placed her daughter in his arms. Nichol was only a day old and Phil had done his best to avoid Claire, Rawlings, and Nichol; however, there were only so many places to hide on an island.

  Overwhelmingly, Phil had been relieved by Claire’s condition. When he risked his life to get the damn doctor to the island—if he’d been forced to admit the truth, it wasn’t to save Nichol. Phil was worried out of his mind about Claire. Getting in that boat and braving the rough seas wasn’t selfless. No, it was selfish. He couldn’t stand to stay near Claire with no ability to ease her distress. After all, he’d agreed to protect her and her child, and while on the run, he’d succeeded. The idea that his efforts had been for naught, thwarted by a tragic medical accident outside of his control, was agonizing.

  On the day after Nichol’s birth, Claire was in the shade on the lanai when Phil came around the corner. He hadn’t expected her to be up and out of her room. Though tired, she looked amazing. He stood and watched as she held Nichol, seemingly in a world by herself. Contentment resonated all around her. Perhaps it was curiosity: Phil had never seen such a young baby, or just maybe it was a desire to share in a miracle of this magnitude. The reason wasn’t clear, but instead of going on to the kitchen for a bite to eat, Phil walked toward Claire and Nichol and made his presence known. He remembered her happy expression as he sat on the chaise longue near her outstretched legs.

  “Thank you for getting the doctor yesterday,” she said with her green eyes open wide.

  “I wish you’d stop thanking me for doing my job.”

  “Risking your life is not your job.”

  “My job is to keep you safe. And now look at you.”

  Pink returned to Claire’s cheeks. “Yes, thank you for that. Let me introduce our daughter…” she shifted the bundle in her arms. The tiny face and scrunched eyes were like nothing Phil had ever seen. In a way, she reminded him of a pale raisin. “…Nichol Courtney Rawlings.”

  He leaned closer. “You made quite an entrance, little lady. You should really take it easy on your mom. She had a rough night.”

  “She’s been as good as gold since she last ate.” Claire’s eyes widened. “Would you like to hold her?”

  Phil sat upward. “No.”

  Claire giggled. “You answered that pretty fast.”

  “Remember, I said that I don’t do diapers.”

  Claire reached for some hand sanitizer and pushed it toward Phil. “No one’s asking you to change diapers. Here, rub this on your hands and you can hold her.” Maybe it was his blank stare, perhaps it was the flushing of his face as blood drained, but Claire continued, “You’re supposed to protect me? Well, I need to get up for a minute and take care of something. Nichol is part of me, so I need you to protect her until I return.”

  Phil rubbed the alcohol-scented sanitizer on his hands as he asked, “A minute? What if she cries?”

  Ignoring his concern, Claire shifted her legs from the longue and gently placed Nichol in his arms. “Just support her head. You won’t break her. Hold her closer… yes, like that.” Once she was satisfied, Claire kissed her daughter’s head and added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, just a minute, I’ll be right back. Oh, stay in the shade.”

  Claire wasn’t gone long, but in those few minutes—yes, more than one—Phil fell in love. Of all of the things he’d done in his life, never had he held such a precious, innocent being in his hands. He knew Claire was right: his assignment had just doubled. The little girl in his hands had her daddy’s eyes, but he saw Claire, too. No longer did he see a raisin. He saw Claire’s nose and lips…

  Phil wondered how some poor kid would feel when Phil drove Nichol and him on their first date, because there was no way he was letting her go with that kid alone. Hell, he’d been a teenage boy once. No way!

  When Phil was younger and on assignment with the military, his objective had been defined by others and incredibly simple: life or death. While observing Claire for Rawlings in California, Phil’s world changed. For the first time in his life, his target had been achieved, yet his mission wasn’t complete. Each day he found himself more and more enthralled with his assignment. Truth be told, it probably began in San Antonio when she outsmarted him; however, that was only the beginning. What impressed him beyond belief was her ability to manipulate the master manipulator. Phil saw how others responded to Anthony Rawlings. Claire’s actions truly earned Phil’s respect. Then, Claire was attacked while on his watch, and Phil was relieved of his duties.

  Never without a connection, Phil moved on to other jobs: most were short and finite. He followed a husband and verified his involvement with another woman. He tracked down a runaway teenager and alerted her parents to her location. Not ready to give up his newfound obsession with Claire Nichols, he welcomed the directive from Ms. London. In his mind he was helping to create the perfect ruse for Claire to leave Rawlings. Phil firmly believed Ms. London’s story that in a moment of weakness following Chester’s attack, Claire agreed to go to Iowa. It was a decision she immediately regretted, but one that she was unable to reverse without assistance. Rawlings had already proven that he would track her down with relentless fortitude. As the seeds of Rawls-Nichols threats were being planted, Phil was planning her ultimate escape. To that end, he willingly mailed the notes, cards, and packages.

  It wasn’t until he helped her escape the United States and they spoke again in Geneva that Phil learned he’d only been a pawn in Ms. London’s strategically planned game of chess.

  Back at the estate, the unusually cool spring air nipped Phil’s face as he stepped from the warmth of the house onto the lawn. Police cars and fire trucks littered the drive. For all practical purposes, he should disappear. But how could he disappear with Nichol in tow? He’d surely be accused of kidnapping. Smirking, Phil knew that kidnapping charges would be the least of his worries. Feeding, changing, and bathing a three-month-old baby ranked much higher on his list of concerns.

  The crowd of people became quiet as a policeman led Rawlings from the house with his hands secured in handcuffs. Just seconds ago, two ambulances left: one contained Claire, the other Ms. London. As Phil watched the scene unfold, Claire’s sister approached.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who are you? Do you work for him?”

  Phil’s stance straightened. The way Emily stressed the word him left no doubt as to her meaning. “I work for her—your sister.” Maybe it was his change in demeanor, but as he spoke Nichol made her presence known.

  Emily covered her mouth failing to stop the gasp. “Oh, my God, do you have her child?”

  Phil nodded as he lowered the zipper on his coat. “Her blanket was wet. I’m trying to keep her warm.”

  “Her?” Emily repeated with wonder.

  John Vandersol, Claire’s brother-in-law, joined the conversation and immediately removed his jacket as Emily reached for Nichol. Phil wanted to protest and pull the little girl back to his chest, but he knew this was the right thing to do. Emily was her aunt. She would know better how to care for a baby until Claire was well and released. Besides, Phil wanted to go check on Claire at the hospital and tell her what had transpired with Nichol and Tony.

  “There, there…” Emil
y cooed, as she wrapped her niece in John’s coat. Looking up to Phil, she asked, “Do you know the last time she ate?”

  Phil shook his head. “Claire just brought her here minutes before this all got out of hand. She’s, umm…” his cheeks uncustomarily reddened, “…not fed with a bottle.”

  “Oh,” Emily responded. “Then I guess we need to get her to Claire at the hospital.” Again to Phil, “Do you know what happened inside?”

  “I wasn’t there for all of it. But I have a good idea—”

  John interrupted. “It was Anthony, wasn’t it? That’s who Claire was trying to shoot?”

  Emily nodded as her husband spoke.

  “No.” Phil answered definitively. “No, she wasn’t trying to shoot anyone. She was trying to save Nichol from Ms. London.”

  Emily’s head shook. “I don’t believe you. Claire never said anything but good things about Catherine.”

  “You’re defending the woman who had you locked in a suite, instead of the man who saved you?” Phil retorted.

  John’s brows cocked. “How do you know that? How do you know where we were? Maybe you’re working for Anthony and he was the one—”

  Phil glared. “I’ll give my official statement to the police. I assure you, though, that you’re mistaken.” Despite being muffled by John’s coat, Nichol’s cries called out. “But before we argue this point, you need to get Nichol to Claire.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “Nichol? My niece is named Nichol Nichols?”

  “Nichol Courtney Rawlings.” Phil stated matter-of-factly.

  Emily’s green eyes glared. “What do you mean Rawlings? Did Claire agree to that?”

  Phil’s tone deepened. “Mrs. Vandersol, you’ll need to speak with your sister. But I’ll tell you that she and Mr. Rawlings remarried. They were married when Nichol was born. Just let your sister explain it to you.”