Behind His Eyes: Truth Read online

  Behind His Eyes-Truth

  Published by Aleatha Romig

  2014 Edition

  Copyright ©2014 Aleatha Romig

  ISBN e-book: 978-0-9914011-0-9

  Editing: Lisa Aurello

  Formatting: Angela McLaurin – Fictional Formats

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is available in print from most online retailers

  2014 Edition License

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  -AUTHOR’S NOTE-

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  -AUTHOR’S NOTE-

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  EPILOGUE

  GLOSSARY OF CONSEQUENCE SERIES

  THE CONSEQUENCES SERIES TIMELINE

  BOOKS BY NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR ALEATHA ROMIG

  ALEATHA ROMIG

  Thank you to everyone who has made Claire and Tony’s story real! Thank you for your support and devotion. I’m constantly awed by your dedication to my make believe friends. If it weren’t for you, your questions, and your messages, I would never have continued with these reading companions. Thank you also for telling your friends and family about THE CONSEQUENCES SERIES and introducing them to the voices in my head! I am indebted to each and every one of you.

  And finally, thank you for encouraging me to experience the Truth from behind Tony’s eyes. I hope you enjoy seeing Anthony Rawlings’ world rocked as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  The CONSEQUENCES series contains dark adult content. Although there is not excessive use of description and detail, the content contains innuendos of kidnapping, rape, and abuse—both physical and mental. If you’re unable to read this material, please do not purchase. If you are ready, welcome aboard and enjoy the ride! ~Aleatha Romig

  Dear Readers,

  Before purchasing, please understand that this is not a standalone book. It was not meant to be read independently of THE CONSEQUENCES SERIES. It was meant as a companion, to be read following the experience of the ENTIRE CONSEQUENCES SERIES.

  This was not designed as a retell of the entire novel TRUTH from Anthony Rawlings’ perspective, and therefore will not make sense on its own. It was meant as a companion to expand upon significant scenes and unveil behind-the-scenes information.

  Therefore, after you have completed CONSEQUENCES, TRUTH, CONVICTED, AND BEHIND HIS EYES CONSEQUENCES please join me for a dark journey into the mind of a man who believes that he controls everything and controls nothing.

  Join me for an insight into the man who…

  Once upon a time, signed a napkin that he knew was a contract. As an esteemed businessman, he forgot one very important rule—he forgot to read the fine print. It wasn’t an acquisition to own another person as he’d previously assumed. It was an agreement to acquire a soul.

  —Aleatha Romig, CONVICTED

  This companion centers on TRUTH and includes chapter references to that novel. The end of this companion also contains a glossary of characters and a timeline of significant events in CONSEQUENCES and TRUTH. Soon, BEHIND HIS EYES CONVICTED: THE MISSING YEARS will be available. The glossary and timeline will continue to grow with each companion.

  Thank you again for your support!

  ~Aleatha

  Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.

  —Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

  As the car slowed, Tony looked up from his tablet. He’d been so lost in the document that he hadn’t realized they were almost home. Sighing, he watched as his house came into view. A man’s home was supposed to be his castle. Why, then, did he dread coming home each night? It was the same as it had always been, and this evening would be the same as the one before. When Eric would open his car door, his staff would be ready to greet him. Dinner would be warm and ready whenever he desired. If he wanted a drink, it too would be prepared. Anthony Rawlings had all the comforts money could buy, and he couldn’t remember being more miserable.

  At first the doctors attributed his lethargy to the lingering effects of the poison. The cardiologists ran every test and scan possible. They concluded that Tony’s heart muscle was as healthy as that of a man in his thirties and reassured him that physically everything was repaired; nevertheless, Tony felt an unfillable void deep within his chest. It was like nothing he’d ever known. As time passed and his divorce finalized, Tony decided that dating would help to fill that void. Shelly agreed, saying it was a sign of strength to the world. It showed that Anthony Rawlings was invincible and able to overcome any obstacle. She also said it would be good for Rawlings Industries: the CEO was back to his old self. It helped that Catherine also encouraged dating. Her reason was less business-oriented. One evening she came to his office and told him without hesitation that he needed to stop spending so much time alone. Tony agreed. He was ready for some companionship.

  When the invitations to benefits, galas, and other social gatherings began to trickle in, Anthony Rawlings returned to the dating scene. Each outing was similar to his dates before her. Most of the women who accompanied him were high-profile and high-maintenance. They looked perfect and knew the importance of appearance. It didn’t take long for Tony to realize that these dates felt more like business meetings. He listened to the women’s words, responded appropriately, and smiled for cameras—but it was all superficial and meaningless.

  Tony never took any of these women to his friend’s home for a barbeque. He didn’t sit with them for hours and talk nor go on long walks hand-in-hand. He didn’t know or care about their lives or a book they’d read. They fulfilled one need—appearance. These women were nothing more than an ornament to dangle from his arm. Everything had come full circle: he was living the life he created before her. It was a life that used to satisfy—it no longer did. The outings left him feeling more hollow than his empty house.

  How could something—like a house, a date, or a life—that was virtually the same as it had been when it had been fulfilling, now seem empty?

  He was Anthony Rawlings. He ran a billion-dollar industry. The ornaments—women—who accompanied him offered more than just public companionship with no desire of commitment. He had every man’s dream.

  Lately, it had become worse, and Tony knew why. Had Tony realized the time of year and mentally prepared, he wouldn’t have been so affected. However, with all of his work and recent travels to Europe, he hadn’t given the pseudo-holiday any thought. Then without warning, at a large benefit in Chicago, with a beautiful blonde on his arm, he heard her say, “A
nthony, you should have worn a green tie.”

  He acknowledged her words with his infamous grin, yet he had no idea why she’d commented on his attire. Apparently, she noticed his confusion, because she giggled and said, “You know—because it’s Saint Patrick’s Day.”

  After weeks and months of consciously not thinking about his ex-wife, an invisible dam broke. In the presence of hundreds of donors, at a $10,000-a-plate dinner, memories flooded his mind. He carried on for the rest of the evening, shook hands, and made small talk, but his thoughts were three years in the past, at an Italian restaurant in Atlanta, Georgia.

  Over the course of the next week, Tony tried diligently to push the memories away. When he’d wake in the middle of the night with his healthy heart beating erratically and his body covered in perspiration, Tony would stare toward the portrait veiled in darkness and remind himself that it was Ms. Nichols who’d failed her test. She was the one who chose to drive away and leave him. Before they were married, he’d promised her consequences if she ever left him, and being a man of his word, he delivered. Well, actually, the state of Iowa delivered; nevertheless, her absence and consequences were the result of her actions, not his.

  When Tony stepped through the door to his home, Cindy stood ready. “Mr. Rawlings, may I take your coat?”

  As he handed it to her, she said, “Dinner can be ready as soon as you like. Sir, are you going to eat in your office again, or would you like to eat in the dining room this evening?”

  Tony squared his shoulders. “The dining room. I’ll be there in half an hour. First, I have business in my office.”

  Cindy acknowledged him and walked away as he headed for his office. Despite the number of staff that Tony employed, silence loomed omnipresent, allowing the sound of his footsteps to echo through the vacant corridor. Once inside his office, Tony poured a finger—or two—of bourbon into the crystal tumbler. The decanter was waiting for him on the highboy, as much of a welcome to his home as his staff—safe and dependable. Tony despised eating alone, especially in the dining room. That was why he often chose to take his meals in his office or in his suite, but he was tired of hiding from the memories. The only way to stop them was to meet them head on. Swallowing the liquid courage, he relished the burn as the amber liquid soothed his nerves. He’d eat the damn dinner in the damn dining room and then spend the rest of the night going through a stack of new proposals. If nothing else, his renewed dedication to work had been beneficial to Rawlings Industries. At least something in his life was thriving.

  After one more tumbler, Tony proclaimed that he’d shut the door on his memories. He’d done it before and would do it again. Leaning back in his leather chair, he removed his jacket and extracted his phone. The blinking light alerted him, reminding him that there were always people trying to reach him—calls, text messages, or emails. A quick brush of the screen told him that besides the plethora of emails, he had two missed calls with voice mails. The first telephone number was the governor’s office. Tony didn’t know why Preston, the new governor, would call, unless he was looking for a favor. Tony had fulfilled more than a few of those, especially for Marcus Evergreen, Iowa City’s prosecutor. As much as it irritated Tony to be at the man’s beck and call, the prosecutor had done his part to help Tony by ridding the world of Ms. Nichols’ accusations. Quid pro quo. The missed calls grated on Tony, reminding him that some debts may never truly be repaid; nevertheless, if keeping the new governor happy would one day benefit Tony, he would endure the imposition.

  Being after 7:00 PM, the Iowa state offices were obviously closed until tomorrow. There was no need to bother with the voice mail now. Tony made a mental note to call Governor Preston in the morning. As he was about to check the second message, a bit of news on his computer screen caught his eye, and he mindlessly laid his phone on his desk, his thoughts overtaken with the information on his home screen. A subsidiary of Rawlings Industries had a substantial jump in stock price. The attached article stated that the upswing was due to the proposed quarterly revenue reports; the actual revenue reports wouldn’t be released until early next month. Wondering if the reports would support the assumptions, Tony began accessing data. Within seconds, everything else was forgotten. Even dinner slipped his mind until Catherine knocked on the door.

  After he ate, Tony turned off his private line and told his staff that unless the house was burning, he did not want to be interrupted. Minutes turned to hours, and the March Iowa sky darkened, as Tony continued to work, read, and make notations. The memories that plagued him earlier found themselves successfully locked behind a wall of figures and reports. It wasn’t until nearly midnight that he noticed his phone. With the ringer muted, he’d forgotten about the voice mails and texts. Illuminating the screen, he saw that the alerts from before had multiplied. Scanning the list of numbers, Brent Simmons was the most recently missed call. He’d also sent the last received text.

  “GOVERNOR PRESTON HAS CALLED ME SEVERAL TIMES TRYING TO REACH YOU. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS. HE SAID HE MUST TALK TO YOU TONIGHT. I’VE CALLED AND TEXTED. ARE YOU OUT? PRESTON SAID TO CALL HIM NO MATTER THE TIME.”

  Tony shook his head and accessed the voice mail from the unknown number.

  “Mr. Rawlings, er, Anthony, this is Sheldon Preston. I hope you get this message. I must discuss something with you tonight. I don’t care how late it is. Please call me. This is my personal cell. You can reach me here at any hour.”

  Tony sighed, wondering what possible favor was so damn important. Scrolling the list of missed calls, he saw Sheldon’s private number repeatedly, as well as Brent’s. Fine, if the governor wanted to speak to him so damn bad, he’d call him at this ungodly hour.

  Governor Sheldon Preston answered on the first ring. “Mr. Rawlings, thank you for returning my call.”

  “It’s late, Governor. What do you need?”

  “I wanted to tell you—before you saw the news tomorrow—Claire Nichols is out of prison.”

  Tony leaned forward, his mouth gaped in disbelief. How could she be out of prison? She had only served fourteen months of her seven-year sentence. “What in the hell do you mean she’s out of prison? Did she escape? What kind of facility is this state operating?”

  “N-no, Mr. Rawlings, she didn’t escape,” Preston stuttered.

  “Then what happened? She had over five years left on her sentence.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Did?” Tony asked.

  “Well, you see, Governor Bosley pardoned her.”

  Tony’s pale world seeped with crimson. “What the hell?”

  “Er—”

  Tony didn’t let the man speak. “Bosley resigned before I left for Europe. How did he grant her a pardon—now?”

  “That’s the thing. Governor Bosley granted her a pardon two weeks ago. Somehow her name escaped the newspapers. I wasn’t informed until today. I’m not sure where the mix-up occurred; however, I intend to find out. Mr. Rawlings, please know that I’m very sorry. You should’ve been notified immediately. You should know that my entire office has been in an uproar. I’m very upset about this. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  Tony listened as his hand clenched the small phone. He couldn’t contain the fury in his voice. “Two weeks ago! Two weeks! The woman who tried to kill me has been out of prison for two fuck’n weeks and I’m just now learning about it!”

  “I’m very sorry. That’s why I wanted to speak with you before the story hit the media tomorrow. I’ve been informed that there’s a news blitz coming out first thing in the morning about how her name escaped the earlier press release. They’re insinuating a cover-up. You can understand how as a new governor—”

  “You think you’re upset? What about me?”

  “Yes, I’m sure you…”

  Sheldon’s words faded as Tony tried to think rationally. Damage control. There must be damage control. “My publicist should be involved in this news blitz. Who’s running it?”

  “The Des Moines
Register had the initial story, but I believe the AP picked it up this evening. It’ll be everywhere by tomorrow morning.”

  Shit! “I don’t like this at all.” There were so many thoughts. Tony struggled to keep them all straight. “Governor, where is she? She is in Iowa,” his baritone voice lowered another octave, as he added, “isn’t she?”

  “Mr. Rawlings, a pardon is different than a parole. With a pardon the entire crime is erased—expunged. It officially never happened, the arrest, the sentencing—none of it. We don’t know where Ms. Nichols went. She doesn’t need to check-in or be accountable to anyone.”

  Tony reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an old key ring. Unconsciously, he threaded the relic through his fingers and steadied his voice. “This is completely unacceptable. I want details. How did this happen and who petitioned for her pardon?”

  “I don’t have all of the details. At this time, all I know is that Jane Allyson, formally Ms. Ni—”

  “I’m well aware of who she is.”

  “Yes, well, she submitted the petition to Bosley’s office. Apparently, she also was the one who went to the penitentiary and sought Ms. Nichols’ release. Again Mr. Rawlings, I’m very sorry—”

  Tony interrupted again, “Yes, Governor, I’m sure you are. I’m sure there will be other people who are sorry when I’m done with them.” Tony hit the DISCONNECT button. Free. How in the hell could she be free? And not only that—missing! Tony needed answers. Fourteen months! Expunged! Tossing the old key ring, Tony hit Brent’s number.

  As the phone began to ring, energy surged through Tony’s body, forcing him to his feet. He paced the confines of his office as he waited for Brent to answer. Tony didn’t care that it was the middle of the night or that Brent or Courtney may be sleeping. This was a damn emergency. Claire was missing! As the phone continued to ring, he thought back. When was the last time he hadn’t known her whereabouts? Years. He’d known where she was before she knew him, and now suddenly she’d walked away—no, not suddenly, two weeks ago!