Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

The way Anthony reasoned, his planning, or procrastination as Marie called it, regarding the vendetta had paid off. Although he allowed her prompts for retaliation, he also reminded her that Anthony Rawlings worked on his own schedule and towards his own goals. Their list of children had grown shorter by the day through natural attrition. Jonathon Burke and his wife, Sherman Nichols and his wife, and now Jordon Nichols and his wife were gone. The original two and their wives passed away of natural causes. He had provided the funds to watch their health fail from afar, but his true interest lay in observing their children and their children. The PI explained that wet leaves were believed to be involved in Jordon and Shirley Nichols’ automobile crash. Anthony didn’t care about the cause, as long as he could cross them off their list. Now, his concern centered on the next generation.

As the plane touched down, his anticipation built … instead of pictures and reports, he would, for the first time, see Emily and Claire Nichols in person.

In an effort to minimize his visibility, Anthony dressed down and walked to the back of the church’s sanctuary. It didn’t take long for him to realize he could easily be lost in the crowd. The Nichols had been well-respected members of their community, and the church was overflowing with mourners. He’d never been to a funeral with so many people willing to speak. Apparently, Jordon had been a first-rate policeman; the church was wall-to-wall with uniformed officers. Shirley had also been a well-loved teacher. As the afternoon wore on, Anthony couldn’t help but watch Claire. She was seated next to her sister, and often, the two held onto one another’s hands. That wasn’t what captivated him. What caught his attention was how Emily had the man to her left. Anthony knew he was John Vandersol, Emily’s longtime boyfriend. Occasionally, Emily would break down and John would console her. Claire, on the other hand, remained steadfast. The pain was visible in her expression, yet only occasionally did she bow her head or wipe her eyes. Her stoic veneer fascinated him. Was she truly that strong? What were her limits? Could she be broken?

Anthony assumed that if he hadn’t lured Simon Johnson away to California, the young man would be present to offer Claire his shoulder. That had been Anthony’s first attempt to manipulate her life, and it had been too easy. He would continue to look for more opportunities.

The preacher spoke, countless people gave their condolences, but Anthony’s mind was on Claire’s future. As he watched her, he thought about all he knew. He didn’t know how long her future would last; however, he did know that it was now at his discretion, and in some way, he would be a part of it.

The first step would be the scholarship at Valparaiso; it would be necessary for her to complete her degree. He’d already started the groundwork. After all, he’d originally assumed that he’d be at the Nichols’ funeral due to more manipulation. The fact that the vengeance gods looked down and blessed his plans reinforced his determination.

After the service concluded, the caskets were wheeled down the center aisle followed by the family. The church was a murmur of whispers as organ music played from somewhere above. Anthony couldn’t suppress his curiosity as Emily, John, and Claire headed his direction. Soon, they would pass mere feet away. If he reached past the older gentleman on his left, he could seize Claire’s hand; however, he knew that couldn’t happen, even though, as she moved toward him, she had already paused a few times to hold a mourner’s hand and accept his or her condolences. It wouldn’t look right; Anthony didn’t look sad. He wasn’t heartbroken over the loss—no, he was intrigued.

Then, just as the family neared, the man on Anthony’s left reached forward and spoke. “Emily and Claire, please know how sorry I am for your loss.”

They stopped and each young lady reached out and hugged the older gentleman. It was Claire who responded, “Thank you for coming. I know Dad and Mom would have loved to have seen you.” Her voice was strong despite the burden of her loss.

“You know that I wouldn’t have missed …”

Anthony didn’t listen to the man’s words. He was mesmerized by the green eyes he saw before him. He’d seen them in photographs—he had a whole file. They were different in person, more vivid, alive, and so full of emotion. Sadness prevailed, yet there was something else, Drive? Ambition? Determination? He wanted to gaze longer into their depths, but before he could speak and offer his condolences, Emily smiled sadly at the gentleman and the three were gone.

It was there, in that church, in Indianapolis, Indiana, that Anthony resolved that his and Claire’s paths would cross again. Someday he’d learn just how strong she could be in the face of greater adversity.

To know the rules of the game, you have to be educated.

—L.L. Cool J.

Mindlessly, the pad of Anthony’s thumb ran laps around the smooth rim of the crystal tumbler. He wasn’t thinking about the glass in his hand or even the Evan Williams bourbon swirling near the bottom. No, Anthony’s thoughts were centered on the monitors above his grand desk. From multiple, well-placed cameras, he could watch Claire move about the S.E suite.

During his time in Europe, the appeal of the woman held captive in his home had begun to fade. In all honesty, having acquired his goal, his return home seemed somewhat anticlimactic. After all, the hunt had taken years, and with each bit of new information, and each time he manipulated fate, Anthony felt invigorated. For a long time, Anthony had known that one day his target would be his.

The capture was all that he’d imagined and more—the true climax! From the moment he stepped into the Red Wing, Anthony knew he’d succeed. He was, first and foremost, a businessman with an impeccable record of success, especially when an endeavor had his full commitment. Whether in business or in pleasure, Anthony understood that planning and patience were essential elements for success. Before embarking on any deal, Anthony Rawlings thoroughly assessed the situation, eliminated the risks, and accentuated the assets.

This acquisition was different. Unlike the average acquisition, such as one of a company, this acquisition had risks that he couldn’t avoid. Sometimes that happened in the game of chance. The first risk was his public interaction with Claire; sitting with her in the Red Wing and taking her out to dinner were undoubtedly perilous. After all, he’s well-known, and the possibility of being associated, even coincidentally, with a missing person wouldn’t fit his perfect persona.

In all reality, he could have paid for Claire Nichols’ disappearance—only to have her reappear in his home—but that would’ve increased the number of people privy to his plan. With her ultimate future unsure, Anthony felt the fewer number of people on that list, the better. Most importantly, if he’d paid someone to bring her to Iowa, he would’ve missed out on the euphoria that came with finalizing the big deal. Anthony had experienced that feeling over and over in business, but that was nothing like the sensation of slipping the GHB into Claire’s wine glass. At that moment, he knew that there was no turning back—he didn’t want to.

Being a professional businessman with an image to maintain, Anthony worked out every possible scenario and created believable contingency plans. The time and energy he’d put into Claire Nichols’ acquisition could have been billed in millions—literally. Anthony Rawlings’ time was incredibly valuable. Suddenly, his lips twitched upward. Perhaps he should add his billable hours in planning and executing Claire’s acquisition to Claire’s bill? But, wouldn’t that be like a jail sentence of ‘life’ plus 1000 years? Her first debt was practically insurmountable; adding more to it was truly adding insult to injury.

Movement on the screen caused him to refocus. He watched as Claire unsuccessfully tried to open a bottle of water. After a few attempts she wiped her hands on the arms of the chair and finally removed the cap. If he’d have zoomed closer, he would’ve seen her complexion pale as she forced herself to swallow the refreshing liquid. Satisfaction filled his chest; his delay was working—Claire knew he was coming to her, and her anxiety was obviously growing with each passing minute.

Maybe—just maybe—he’d been wrong to think the fun was over. Perhaps there’d be more opportunities to enjoy the woman in the black dress and heels he was watching. He reminded himself, it wasn’t all about enjoyment, well at least not hers. No, Claire Nichols had a bill to pay and lessons to learn.

Anthony was in a place he’d never been. Metaphorically, he was entering virgin territory. After all, he’d never before held a woman captive. There’d never been a need—or a desire. Women were a nice accessory and a necessary complement for many occasions, and through the years, more women than he could remember were willing to fulfill that role, as well as be attentive to his physical needs. Of course, he treated each one with respect. Anthony Rawlings couldn’t have disgruntled women running around talking about him in a negative way. Each separation was his fault—his plate was too full, he had too many responsibilities. The fact that he usually dated high-profile women helped. They, too, had lives, responsibilities, and reputations that required discretion. If he tried to remember half of the gorgeous women he’d dated, Anthony believed that all of his separations had ended amicably.