The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  During the day my options were many and few. My cell had grown larger, but it was still a cell. Each glance outside my windows reminded me that I was trapped inside the walls of the mansion. Spring had arrived to Iowa, bringing longer days and life where only gray and dormancy had resided. The dead trees showed faint shades of color as buds formed and turned to lush green leaves. I longed for the freedom of walking outside, the ability to go to a store or a restaurant. I had designer clothes and luxurious surroundings, yet I desired what others took for granted. I craved the mundane life I’d lost.

  My job duties were defined broadly. For lack of a better word, I was forced to become Anthony Rawlings’ whore. My existence and presence was for one purpose: to please him. If he didn’t want or have time for me, I was left in my suite, like a doll left on the shelf. If he wanted me, I was required to accommodate. The word no had been removed from my vocabulary.

  During the days I’d assure myself that I had choices. The evenings and nights convinced me otherwise. Failure was not an option. That was not only something that Anthony liked to say: it was the truth. Failure had consequences—some very painful and demeaning consequences.

  My first punishment was when I was late returning to his office. I quickly learned that displeasing him was not something that I wanted to do. I believe that fear of seeing the darkness arise behind his eyes was the true key to my captivity. I’d thought I’d seen the depth of his rage—I hadn’t yet—and I knew I didn’t want to see it again. If I disobeyed, ran through the grand doors and made it into the trees, yet failed to find freedom, I knew that my punishment would be severe. That didn’t need to be spelled out for me.

  I’d been at his estate for nearly a month when I was awakened by a member of the staff and told that Mr. Rawlings was working from home, and I was to be in his office by 10:00 AM. It wasn’t that I didn’t usually wake by that time, but I’d developed a routine, and I wasn’t always showered and dressed. Of course, I did as I was told, yet as I prepared for my day, each decision was monumental. Usually during the day I dressed casually. If I were to see Anthony at night, Kate informed me what he wanted me to wear.

  My first, mid-week summons to his office was a new, daunting assignment. I debated everything. Finally, deciding upon a pair of slacks, silk blouse, and high heels—because other than workout shoes, that was my only option—I arrived at his office door with minutes to spare. I’d been in his office on the occasional Sunday afternoon for lunch, but other than my first time in the regal room, I’d never been called there and required to fulfill my new duties. With each step down the grand stairs and along the marble corridor, I knew this would be different. He had plans. I just didn’t know what they were.

  With my hand shaking, I knocked on the door to his office. I didn’t know if it was locked, but he had a way to open it from his desk. The door opened and I entered. He was talking on the telephone and motioned for me to be quiet. Silently, I walked to his desk as the door closed by the pushing of a button. Though the temperature of the room was the same as the rest of the mansion, I felt a chill that sent shivers to my core. He was upset with the person on the other end of the line. I didn’t know or care what he was discussing, but I had learned to read him well enough to know he wasn’t happy.

  For minutes upon minutes, I stood, unsure of what to do. Each second hung in the air as his eyes grew darker and he wove some trinket around the fingers and knuckles of his other hand. It was the first time I saw this habit—one of his only nervous habits. I’d later consider it the rumble of thunder, warning of an impending storm.

  My heartbeat quickened as he leaned back in his chair and told the person on the other end of the line that he had a personal matter, and he would put him or her on hold, momentarily. After hitting the button, his dark eyes found mine. “Claire, you have a job. Do it.”

  I was lost. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and yet I feared not complying. Timidly, I asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  The pent-up frustration from his business dealing burst forth as he sprang from his chair and rounded the desk toward me. Defensively, I stepped back. He grasped my arm pulling me toward him. His warm breath smelled of coffee as he growled, “Do not pull away from me. Do you understand?”

  I understood. I understood that if Anthony Rawlings was having a bad day that I was having a bad day, probably worse. “Yes. I didn’t mean to pull away.”

  My cheek burned with the slap of his hand. “Don’t think that you can pacify me with lies. I want the truth from you. You meant to step back—it wasn’t done on accident. Admit your mistakes and I won’t need to punish you for them.”

  Tears threatened to stream as I faced his rage. Though every muscle in my body wanted to turn away and run, I knew that wasn’t an option. I stood resolute as his anger spilled forth. My choice of clothing was inconsequential in the equation of the day. As I stood before him, with his business associate still on hold, he told me to undress.

  I did.

  Phil hated the damn book. He’d done enough research to know that Rawlings and Claire had an unusual relationship, especially in the beginning. However, he’d also spent a lot of time with the two of them and knew that what he was reading was not what he’d witnessed. Yet he also knew the book was based on truth. He’d been around each time Claire and Meredith met.

  The topic also came up during a recent meeting with Mr. Rawlings and Brent Simmons at Rawlings’ office. Once they were all seated, Rawlings was the first to speak.

  “I’ve reached a plea agreement with the prosecutor.”

  Phil nodded.

  Tony continued, “I know you probably have the opportunity for more exciting jobs than watching the Vandersols with Nichol and trying to learn about Claire, but I called you here to ask you to keep working for me.”

  Phil considered reminding him that he actually worked for Claire, but there was a tiredness about Rawlings’ demeanor that stilled his words. For the first time since he’d met him, Phil felt a pang of sadness at Tony’s weary expression. He wasn’t the domineering man who’d hired him to find and trail his ex-wife. No longer was he the man who had all the answers or made all of the decisions. He seemed older. Phil was glad he’d decided not to share the information about Harrison Baldwin’s visit. He wasn’t sure Rawlings could’ve taken it.

  Trying to lighten the somber mood, Phil responded with a slight grin, “I wasn’t planning on stopping, even if you told me you wanted me to.”

  Though his eyes didn’t join the party, Tony smiled back. “Thank you. It’ll be easier being away knowing that you’re watching over both of them.”

  “Do you know how long you’ll be away?”

  Brent answered, “The length of incarceration can change depending on circumstances in prison, but the current agreement is for four years, minus time served.”

  Four years. Phil had enough criminal knowledge to know that something had changed. Even after Rawlings was cleared of helping Catherine with her poisoning deaths, there was still Simon Johnson’s murder. It was murder for hire, but he’d admitted to it. Phil doubted that even Anthony Rawlings could get a life sentence reduced to four years.

  “I’ll be honest: I thought it would be longer,” Phil replied. “What happened?”

  Brent responded, “The FBI dropped the murder charge for Simon Johnson. They said that the NTSB found no signs of tampering with Simon’s plane. Since Tony confessed to making the contact with the intent to murder, the murder charge was reduced to conspiracy, a second-degree felony. Tony also admitted to supplying Catherine with the money for one known hit—that was the second conspiracy charge. Due to his cooperation with prosecuting Catherine and turning state’s evidence, those two charges were negotiated to time served and a hefty fine.”

  Phil looked puzzled. “Then what’s with the four years?”

  “Kidnapping and sexual assault,” Tony said matter-of-factly.

  Brent corrected, “Kidnapping is the only charge that’s standing.
”

  Phil sat straighter. “I know Claire isn’t pressing charges. It’s the book, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Tony replied. “The state of Iowa can’t stand the persecution it’s getting over the case. Besides the Vandersols, there are victims’ rights groups going nuts.”

  Brent added, “Tony hasn’t read the book. His admission is not to all of the contents, publicly, only that he took Claire from Georgia and brought her to Iowa without her consent. Crossing state lines makes it a federal offense.”

  “The sexual assault charges?” Phil asked.

  “There’s a statute that states the exception to the third degree class C felony is if the act is between persons who are at the time cohabitating as husband and wife. The book doesn’t claim anything nonconsensual happening until Claire was living in Tony’s house. I argued that they did become husband and wife—twice. Without physical evidence or Claire’s testimony, they let that charge drop, as long as he admitted to the kidnapping. The law has varying options for sentencing with kidnapping. Since Claire was an adult, not sold into human trafficking, and there’s record of Tony compensating her for her time with the paying of her debts, the court agreed to a lesser sentence. Tony’s lack of criminal record also helped in reducing the penalty. However, there’s also a hefty fine.”

  Phil nodded. Looking at Tony, he said, “If I didn’t know you and witness the two of you in the South Pacific, I’d want to kill you right now. I still kind of do. I sure as hell hope that book has been sensationalized and it’s not an accurate account of what happened.”

  Tony shrugged, his confident demeanor temporarily gone. “I haven’t read it, but apparently I’m the only one in the room who can say that.” His dark eyes glanced toward Brent.

  “I have a job to do,” Brent said.

  The hairs on the back of Phil’s neck stood to attention. The words from Claire’s book came rushing back. You have a job to do. Do it!

  Brent went on, “I can’t defend you if I don’t know what I’m up against. And as much as I’m your friend…” he turned to Phil, “…I think I’d help you hide the body.”

  Tony shook his head. “I told her not to talk to Meredith.” He looked toward Phil. “Remember?” His domineering voice returned with conviction. “This whole damn thing started in San Diego. I should have put an end to it then. I should have had you stop the meeting before I ever got there.”

  Phil casually leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Tony was obviously on some unbalanced emotional roller coaster. “I believe this whole damn thing began in a bar in Georgia, or before, if I understood her laptop.”

  Tony glared. “The information on the laptop about the Rawls family doesn’t need to be public. I’ve got enough shit out there.”

  “You do have enough shit to spread far and wide,” Brent said. “But as far as keeping it private, I think you’d better focus on damage control. Catherine hasn’t been keeping her mouth shut. Tom’s been working his ass off on gag orders regarding her case. The whole world is going to know your family’s name.”

  Tony shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My family’s name is Rawlings. Claire and Nichol Rawlings—they’re my family. I’m doing all of this so that I can get them back, so there won’t be any damn skeletons waiting around to shock their world. Do you really think I’d put myself through all of this if it weren’t for them?”

  Nodding, Phil replied, “That’s why you’re not dead.” Turning to Brent, he asked, “Will Rawlings’ plea be done in a closed court?”

  “Yes, however, the judge is allowing special dispensation.”

  “I want to be there.”

  Tony’s dark gaze returned Phil’s way. “What the hell for?”

  With his arms on the table, Phil squared his shoulders. “Because I have a job to do and I’m going to do it. My job is to protect Claire. I’m the one who took you to her. I won’t stop doing my job. I want to see this for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I can hack the courthouse records and read it, but I want to hear it. I want to know I did the right thing getting you two back together. If I didn’t, I might have to reconsider my next assignment.”

  Brent’s eyes opened wide and he looked at Tony. When Tony nodded, Brent replied, “Well, all right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Tony leaned across the table. “I know you have her best interest at heart. I’ve seen that. But don’t fuck’n threaten me again.”

  Undeterred, Phil closed the gap. “I do have her best interest at heart, as well as Nichol’s. No one is going to hurt them: you don’t need to worry about that. And…” he paused, “…it wasn’t a threat.”

  Tony inhaled and sat taller. “Brent will be your contact until you can talk with me. The prison is minimum-security. Once I’m settled, you can again report directly to me. Brent will be the one paying you and your expenses.”

  “We have a deal.”

  FOR A CLOSED HEARING, the courtroom had more than a few people watching from the galley. As Phil made his way to a seat, he heard Emily whisper to John, “What’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t know, but as long as he’s on the list, he can be here,” John replied, sitting next to his wife in the galley. The current charges were being filed on behalf of the United States. Grinning smugly, Phil nodded and sat a few rows behind them. Obviously, nearing the end of her pregnancy, Emily was much larger than the last time Phil had seen her. It amazed him how fast pregnant women changed. The last few times he’d watched Nichol from afar, she was with a nanny. Although, that made it easier for Phil to go unnoticed, he worried about her safety. Most of his observation of the Vandersols was electronic. Smirking, Phil thought about their private text messages. He’d learned many things: he knew they were having a boy and that Claire was being moved to a private facility in Cedar Rapids called Everwood.

  He watched them from his vantage point. Although Emily’s hair was shorter, seeing her, with her hand resting on her enlarged midsection, reminded Phil of Claire. The private facility where they’d gotten her admitted had outstanding ratings, a great reputation, and phenomenal security. Phil wholeheartedly approved. Of course, he’d also already infiltrated their data. They’d started some preliminary tests on Claire. Despite the inconclusive results, Phil planned on knowing what they did, when they did it.

  Emily and Nichol had moved out of the hotel suite and rented a home outside of Cedar Rapids. John was commuting from California as often as he could. Since the charges had been dropped, John’s legal acumen was no longer needed. He mostly visited on weekends, but Phil wasn’t surprised when he learned that he’d be traveling to Iowa for this hearing. Jane Allyson was also present. She was sitting to John’s right. Being as he and Jane weren’t involved in the current legal proceedings, Phil was curious to see their reaction to Rawlings’ negotiated sentence. There hadn’t been any correspondence between the two of them indicating that they were in the know.

  Ahead and on Phil’s right was Courtney Simmons. Before he’d made his presence known, he saw Courtney speaking with Emily and assessed that it must be a difficult position for her. She obviously wanted to support her friend and her husband’s boss, but if she were to maintain a relationship with Nichol, she also needed to stay in Emily’s good graces. Since that was more than Phil had been able to do, he was glad she’d made some headway. There were others from Rawlings Industries with Courtney. Phil knew their names, but other than their job titles, he wasn’t familiar with them. There was Tom Miller, legal, Tim Benson, acting CEO, and Patricia, Tony’s personal assistant.

  One of the last people to enter caught Phil by surprise. It was Harrison Baldwin, accompanied by an older gentleman. Harrison nodded in Phil’s direction as they found two empty seats behind the Vandersols. Emily appeared pleased to see Harry. Well, wasn’t this a fun group.

  The small courtroom filled to capacity as the prosecution, Marcus Evergreen, and the US Attorney came from a closed door and made their way to one table, and the
defense, Brent and Tony, followed behind and made their way to the other. Tony’s gaze assessed the crowd, stopped momentarily on Baldwin, and then shifted to the front of the courtroom. In his customary thousand-dollar suit, Rawlings didn’t look like a man about to head to prison. He looked more like the CEO he was known to be. The courtroom fell silent as the judge entered, followed by the clerk.

  Shattering the palpable stillness, the clerk announced, “The honorable Judge Jefferies presiding…”

  Judge Jefferies didn’t waste any time. After some directions to the attorneys, he said, “Mr. Rawlings, in the matter of the United States versus Anthony Rawlings, how do you plead?”

  Standing, Tony glanced at Brent, turned toward the bench, and proclaimed, “Guilty, Your Honor.”

  Judge Jefferies asked, “Counsel, have you reached a settlement?”

  The US Attorney replied, “Yes, Your Honor. The people have agreed to four years in a minimum-security federal prison camp, minus time served, $75,000 in fines, and probation.”

  Emily gasped and turned to John and Jane. In a stage whisper she asked, “Tell me that isn’t all that he’s getting. Tell me there’s more.”

  John reached for her hand and silently tried to soothe her.

  Judge Jefferies continued, “Mr. Rawlings, do you know that by pleading guilty you lose the right to a jury trial?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Do you give up that right?”