The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  Tony shook his head. If only…

  Wasn’t that the phrase of the day?

  If only Nathaniel had lived. If only Brent hadn’t gotten on that plane. If only Derek Burke hadn’t found his way into Sophia’s life. If only Tony and Catherine had never complied their list of names. If only his life had crossed paths with Claire’s in another way…

  Tony could go on for hours thinking about that list: Sherman Nichols. Tony remembered the first time he saw that name. It was during his investigation of Cole Mathews, Sherman’s alias. He remembered the pride he felt as he supplied Nathaniel with that information. He’d done what he’d been asked to do, what Anton knew Nathaniel was incapable of doing. Tony’s report didn’t only contain Sherman’s name, but the names of his family. It was more than his grandfather had requested, but that’s what Anton did—more, above and beyond. That report contained the names of Sherman Nichols’ wife, Elizabeth; son, Jordon; daughter-in-law, Shirley; and granddaughters, Emily and Claire.

  Tony’s empty stomach twisted. Every time he pointed his finger at Catherine, four pointed back toward him. He couldn’t blame her for everything. Without his initial research, the entire Nichols family would’ve been spared. His face flushed. When Tony disclosed that list of names to his grandfather, Claire was six years old. A sickening feeling brought a bad taste to his mouth as he imagined what Nichol would be like at that age. What did Tony want for his daughter at that age? The answer was simple: security and innocence. Wasn’t that the same thing Jordon and Shirley had wanted for Claire?

  Catherine not only murdered Nathaniel, but Sherman, Jordon, and Shirley Nichols. During her confessions, she’d admitted to singlehandedly eliminating an entire branch of Claire’s and ultimately Nichol’s family tree. Remorse and guilt took a backseat to red-hot rage as Tony remembered the scene at the estate and envisioned the determination and hatred in Catherine’s cold, gray eyes. She’d had the gun and had wanted to hurt his family. If she’d succeeded this afternoon, the entire Nichols line would be gone. The way she looked at Claire and Nichol. Hell, not only them: she had John and Emily locked in a suite with poisoned water. The bounds to her depravity knew no limits.

  How had he been so wrong for so long? Had Samuel seen something in Catherine all those years ago that she’d somehow hidden from Nathaniel and Tony?

  The door opened and Officer Hastings entered, bringing Tony’s thoughts back to the present. “Mr. Rawlings, we have a couple more questions for you.”

  “Where are my attorneys?”

  “They called and are on their way.”

  Tony sat taller. “I believe I’ll wait. It’s in my best interest to postpone your questions until their arrival.”

  “Mr. Rawlings, you aren’t calling the shots here. We want to know where you’ve been for the last six months?”

  Tony’s jaw clenched in defiance as he silently stared at Officer Hastings.

  “Perhaps you’d like to know about Ms. Nichols?” the officer baited.

  “Mrs. Rawlings.” Tony glared. “Where is she?”

  “Do you have proof of your marriage to Ms. Nichols?” Hastings clarified, “Your second marriage.”

  Tony looked down at his left hand. Shit, he didn’t even have a wedding band, but Claire did. Their marriage was legal. After the ceremony on the beach, they’d gone to the city with Francis and completed the necessary legal documents. In an effort to remain hidden, they’d decided to not forward that information on to the United States government. That may make verifying their marriage more difficult; however, it didn’t nullify the legality of it. People married in different countries all the time.

  Hastings taunted, “Without proof of your marriage, you have no claims or rights to information regarding Ms. Nichols.”

  The thin veneer of control Tony had held on his decorum, splintered as his fist hit the metal table. The otherwise still room exploded with the echoing vibrations as his determined voice rose above the clatter. “Rawlings! Mrs. Claire Rawlings,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “Do not make me correct you again. And, no, I don’t have our marriage license in my damn pocket, but I can get proof. We remarried on October 27, 2013. Ask Claire.”

  The doors once again opened and Tom Miller, the co-lead attorney at Rawlings Industries and Tony’s personal friend entered. Without a word, he stopped Tony’s rebuttal, silently warning him to say no more. Laying his briefcase on the table he turned to Hastings and politely asked, “Officer, I’m sure you’re not questioning my client after he’s asked for legal counsel, are you?”

  “I’m not questioning him about the case. We need preliminary information.”

  Tom leaned forward and slowed his speech. “His name is Anthony Rawlings. He is the CEO of Rawlings Industries. Unless you charge him with a crime, I will be taking him out of here today.” He lifted his brows. “What other preliminary information do you require, Officer?”

  “Mr. Miller, at the very least, we need answers. Your client has been missing for the last six months. He needs to explain—”

  “My client is a wealthy man,” Tom interrupted. “As such, he took an opportunity to travel and relax. I’m sure many people would like that ability. However, my client also oversees a billion-dollar company and therefore was never completely inaccessible.”

  Tony spoke over the terse exchange, “Now that my counsel is here, I want to speak with him privately.” Tony suddenly worried that Tom’s speculations could further compromise his agreement with the FBI since he’d promised the feds he’d be completely inaccessible. After all, it was a very tangled web, one that would take days of explanations to unravel.

  Biting back his rebuttal, Hastings glared toward Tony and replied, “This isn’t done. I’ll be back.” With that, he stood, knocked on the door, and left.

  Once they were alone, Tony’s eyes widened. “Tom? Do you know about Brent?”

  Tom nodded. “Yeah, this has been the day from hell. Bev went over to Courtney’s. She’s the one who told me that you and Claire were back, and then I got the call saying to come here. Where the hell have you been?”

  Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “It’s a long story. Let me just start out by saying that Claire and I remarried. We have a daughter, Nichol. I’m going crazy here. I need to know that Claire and Nichol are all right.”

  “I don’t know anything about your daughter. I’ve sent Stephens to the hospital to serve as Claire’s counsel. The last message I received before I turned over my phone was that she’s still unconscious.” Before Tony could reply, Tom asked, “What the hell happened?”

  “I need to get to her, Tom. I don’t want anyone to make assumptions and hold anyone else responsible for my actions. I’ve been in contact with the FBI. There’s an agent—his name is Jackson—in Boston. If you contact him, he’ll corroborate my story and hopefully talk to the Iowa City police.” Unable to stay seated any longer, Tony stood and paced the length of the room and back. “Today was a train wreck. I came back, we came back,” he corrected, “because we were worried about John and Emily. We learned that they’d be at the estate, and we didn’t trust Catherine.”

  Tom shook his head. “What? Wait. John and Emily? As in your ex-brother and sister-in-law, the same people who’ve told anyone and everyone that you were on the run after possibly killing Claire?”

  “Yes, only no longer ex. I know what they’ve been saying. I also knew that if we contacted them they would stop. It doesn’t make sense, but I hoped that if they continued their allegations, it would keep them safe.”

  “Safe? From…?”

  “From Catherine!” Tony’s volume rose. “Tom, you need to pay attention. I said that before. Catherine London, she’s crazy. The woman is a psychopath. She’s responsible for so much.” He spun in a circle, as if his pacing was no longer sufficient. “Brent!” His movements stilled. “She’s responsible for Brent’s death.”

  “Tony, calm down. You’re not making sense. You’re talking about the executor of y
our estate, the woman who’s worked for you for as long as I can remember, and one of the gentlest women I’ve ever known.”

  The small room shrunk as the walls closed in, threatening to suffocate, to steal the very air from his lungs. Appearance—the lesson Tony had learned and the one he’d taught—was mocking his every move. He was perceived as the tyrannical businessman, and Catherine was the kindly housekeeper. Tony took a deep breath, sat back down, and steadied his voice. “Tom, I can’t explain everything right now. Just find out if they plan to charge me, and what those charges are. Then get me the hell out of here. I need to find out what’s happening with Claire and Nichol. I need to help Courtney, and I don’t want to spend another minute in this damn room, much less a jail cell.” His voice deepened with determination. “I don’t fuck’n care how much it costs. You’re my attorney. Get me the hell out of here.”

  “You were gone for six months. I can’t promise that we can get a judge to agree to bail. They’ll consider you a flight risk.”’

  “I’ll surrender my passport.”

  Tom lifted a brow. “Did you use your passport the last time you left the country?”

  Tony squared his shoulders. “We’re in Iowa for Christ’s sake. Any damn judge better grant me bail, or that judge will never achieve a higher bench in his or her whole damn career. I don’t care if they want to make the bail excessive for appearances. I’ll pay it. Just make it happen.”

  Tom nodded. “What about the FBI? Are you sure they’ll corroborate this story?”

  “Agent Jackson, with the Boston field office,” Tony bristled, “or Agent Baldwin, with the San Francisco field office. They’ve been our contacts. Get a hold of one of them. They knew where, or approximately where Claire and I were residing. They know more than I’m willing to—or have time to—say right now. Just make it happen. I need to get to my wife and daughter.”

  “Tony, I’ll do what I can. Wherever you were, did you hear that Meredith Banks’ book…” Tom didn’t need to finish the sentence. Tony understood what he was implying.

  Exhaling, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Get me out of here. Then we’ll talk.”

  “I can’t promise it will happen today. I need to make some calls…” Tom’s voice trailed away as they both turned toward the opening door.

  Tony glared, expecting another interruption from Hastings or another of Iowa City’s finest.

  “I heard you were here,” Brent said with a sad gleam in his eyes.

  Both Tom and Tony stared: their conversation momentarily muted by the appearance of their friend. The hope that had been wilting at Tony’s feet found new life as Tony and Tom simultaneously stood in amazement.

  After a moment, Brent clipped, “Are either of you going to say anything?”

  The three men collided as Tony and Tom slapped Brent’s back and fought the battle of their raw emotions. “But…how?” Tom managed.

  Suddenly, the dull, pale room filled with the brilliance of optimism. “The plane didn’t go down?” Tony asked. “Everyone is all right? Derek Burke?”

  Darkness overtook their reunion. “No,” Brent replied. “I wasn’t on the plane. It did go down.” Raising his brows, he asked, “So, you really know Burke? You wanted him brought to corporate?”

  Tony shook his head. “I did know him and his wife. It’s a long story, one that seems to keep getting longer by the minute. However, I didn’t want him at corporate.”

  “He deserved to be here, Tony. He was good.” Tom interjected.

  Brent concurred. “Yes, just today in Chicago…” His voice trailed away.

  Tom refocused the conversation. “I’m sorry about Burke and Michaels, but,” he slapped Brent’s back again, “I’m thrilled you’re here. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Tony was just telling me a little about his time away and a connection with the FBI.”

  Brent turned to Tony. “I just got off the phone with Agent Jackson.” Tom shot Brent a look of disbelief as Brent continued, “Part of your agreement was to not return to the US. He said you nullified your agreement.”

  “What does that mean?” Tony demanded. “They’re going to throw our whole agreement out the window? What about Claire? They promised that she wouldn’t—”

  Brent interrupted. “One step at a time. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Get me out of here. Get any and all charges removed from Claire and anyone else. I’ll take responsibility for what I’ve done, but my list of crimes is miniscule in comparison to what I learned today at the estate. It’s all recorded. The cameras in the office should have gotten it all. Make sure you get that evidence.”

  “This is so farfetched, yet obviously you both know more than I do,” Tom said.

  “Tom,” Tony’s dark eyes turned toward his friend. “It was a need-to-know basis. The FBI wouldn’t allow—”

  “No. Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to know you’re not losing it. I was beginning to wonder,” Tom replied with a grin. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

  “Today. And get me information on my family.”

  Brent and Tom nodded.

  “Tom,” Tony said, “I want you to go to the hospital. Stephens is a good man, but when Claire wakes, she needs someone she recognizes. I have a bad feeling about Emily and John.”

  “The people you risked everything to save?” Tom interjected.

  Nodding, Tony continued. “They don’t even know what you know, and that is so little of this story. Everyone keeps questioning our marriage.” Tony’s eyes widened as he turned toward Brent. “I will not implicate anyone else, but as my counsel, please contact the person who can help get the necessary documents to prove we’re married. He’s good, Brent. I’d bet he could obtain what you need in a matter of hours. It would take the State Department days or weeks.”

  Tom listened and shrugged. “Need to know?”

  “Yes, some things are better left unknown for right now. Just go to Claire. Let Brent get me out of here.”

  Tom nodded. “I will.”

  “So will I,” Brent replied, and added, “Don’t answer any questions. Don’t let them bait you into anything. Tony, this is not as simple as before. You need to listen to me.”

  A slight grin came to Tony’s lips as he once again slapped Brent’s shoulder. “Who am I to refuse the man who just overcame death?”

  “What about Courtney?” Tom asked.

  “She’s waiting for me here.” Brent’s eyes held the first spark of hope that Tony hadn’t seen in hours. “She wants to go to Claire, but right now she seems to have an issue letting me out of her sight.”

  “Thanks Brent. I mean that.” Tony said, with the most heartfelt gratitude he’d ever known. “You too, Tom. I have total faith in both of you. Now get me the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Five

  March 2014

  Tony

  When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.

  —Henry Ford

  DESPITE BRENT AND TOM'S best efforts, the booking of Mr. Anthony Rawlings did occur, as did the booking of Claire Nichols Rawlings. Her name was no longer in question: documentation had been produced verifying their marriage. It didn’t matter who they were or what their last name was. The accusations were too blatant to not be addressed. The Iowa City Police Department had recorded the call from Ms. Catherine London. The transcripts were leaked to the press. She claimed that she feared for her life, said that Anthony Rawlings had returned from hiding and was talking irrationally about killing her and her guests. She wasn’t only scared for herself but for the Vandersols. Why else would he have returned, but to stop their constant public accusations? When the police arrived, the evidence substantiated her claim. Ms. London had been shot. Simple ballistic tests found gun residue, proving that Claire Rawlings was the shooter. According to the Iowa City chief prosecutor, the case was sad, simple, and straightforward.

  Due to the severity of the crime, the defe
ndants were not granted stationhouse bail and were kept in custody until the complaint was filed and the first appearance before the judge was scheduled. Claire Rawlings was still in the hospital, and the debate had started about her future. In a bold move, the prosecutor had booked Claire in absentia.

  The small Iowa City jail cell wasn’t like anything Tony had ever experienced. Each minute inside of it lasted an eternity. He paced the confines for hours. Thankfully, Brent visited frequently. Of course, it was all in the name of generating Tony’s defense, but it was more than that: it was Tony’s only reprieve, his saving grace. Each time Brent arrived at the jail, a guard would escort Tony from the claustrophobic cell.

  “Tell me what’s happening with Claire.” Tony demanded, once they were again alone in the visitor’s room.

  “We don’t know much. Roach is our main source of information, and Emily has banned him and anyone else from contact with Claire.”

  “I’m her husband. Roach got the documentation from Francis. How can she refuse me? I want to know what’s happening with my wife and daughter. Besides, when Claire gets out of that hospital, she’s not going to jail. I won’t let that happen, not again. I don’t know how she survived in here the first time. She has the full legal staff at Rawlings ready for her defense. Emily can’t possibly want to deny her own sister legal representation.”

  Brent shook his head. “She isn’t denying her representation. John is representing her. He has his license back.”

  “In Iowa? He was never licensed for Iowa.”

  “No, he’s acting as co-counsel with Jane.”

  Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his dark eyes, and released a long breath. “I’ll pay them whatever they want. I don’t like it, and I’d rather you were involved in her defense, but I think that John and Jane will have her best interests at heart.”