Except, that wasn’t the correct equation—it wasn’t Rawls minus Nichols—it was Rawls plus Nichols. It was now clear—Rawls plus Nichols equaled Rawlings.
Before Phil could answer, the sound of Claire’s scream echoed through the house, only to be drowned out by the rumbling of thunder. At first, Tony considered he might have imagined his wife’s plea, but when he saw the look on Phil’s face, Tony knew it was real.
“Did you just hear?” Tony asked as Claire’s scream rang from the other side of the house. Both men ran for the master bedroom suite. They reached the door at the same time as Madeline. Tony’s heart beat frantically as he reached for the door knob, pushed the door wide, and declared, “I’m going in alone. Then, I’ll let you know.”
Madeline and Phil both nodded.
Claire lay still near the center of their bed with her back toward the door. The fullness of pillows surrounding her body brought a momentary smile to Tony’s worried expression. Lately, she’d brought more and more pillows to bed. He’d teased her, saying a wall of pillows couldn’t keep him out, but Tony knew the pillows helped Claire to be more comfortable. He didn’t care if she slept in a bed of pillows.
His smile quickly faded when he realized she hadn’t turned toward the sound of the opening door. Quickly, he walked to the far side of their bed and stepped closer. Despite her damp hair pressed to her face, Tony thought she looked beautiful. When he spoke, he expected to see her beautiful emerald eyes. “Claire, are you all right?”
She didn’t move. In the dimly lit, master bedroom suite, her skin glistened with perspiration and her eyes remained shut. He reached toward her. While only inches away, Claire’s head tossed violently from side to side as she whispered, “No...Tony...”
Just as quickly as she called out, her body stilled. He waited. Was she telling him not to come nearer? Tony asked in desperation, “Claire, no—what?”
When she didn’t respond, he sat on the edge of their bed and tenderly reached for her shoulder. Shaking her gently, he said, “Claire, I’m right here. Are you dreaming?”
She didn’t respond. He shook again—nothing. “Madeline!” he yelled toward the door.
The sky was now dark, with intense flashes of light. The thunder and lightning occurred almost simultaneously. Phil, who’d been joined by Francis, paced silently in the hallway, while Madeline and Tony attended to Claire. Despite his gentle encouragement, Claire wouldn’t wake; however, her pleas and the calling of his name ceased.
The temperature of their suite had decreased very nicely. That, combined with the gentle breeze of the ceiling fan, made their room quite comfortable; nevertheless, Tony noticed Claire’s blouse stuck to her clammy skin. As he brushed her sun lightened hair away from her face, he felt the warmth radiating from her body. “She’s burning up!”
“Monsieur, may I?”
Tony hesitantly stepped away as Madeline approached the edge of the bed where Tony had been perched. She turned her palm upward and moved her hand over Claire’s forehead.
“I’m afraid she has an infection. Before she fell asleep, I gave her something to help fight it and help her sleep. She said she didn’t want to go to the doctor.”
His back straightened. “What did you give her?”
“It’s an island remedy. When she wakes, she’ll feel better.”
“The baby?”
“The bébé will be good, much better than having infection in her mère.”
His shoulder’s relaxed as he stepped toward his wife. Before he could speak, Madeline pulled the sheet back and revealed Claire’s body.
Tony gasped. “What? What happened? Why is she so wet?”
“Her water, it broke. The baby is coming.”
Tony fell to his knees and reached for his wife’s hand. With his lips near Claire’s sleeping face he begged, “Please, please be all right.” Holding back tears, he straightened his neck and lowered his voice—the tone he created was one of authority, beyond debate. “You told me you’d be fine. You promised.” Lightning and thunder crashed. Softness, once again, took residence in his words, “Claire, please open your eyes. I need to see your beautiful emerald eyes.”
His chest tightened with déjà vu. He’d said those words before—almost verbatim. Seeing her on the bed, with her clothes glued to her skin by moisture, Tony cursed under his breath. This—like the accident—like Chester—was his fault. Why did she continually need to suffer because of him?
I always trust my gut reaction; it's always right .
—Kiana Tom
Harry took one last look at his acquired evidence from the Sherman Nichols’ case—all boxed and catalogued. The digital data was secured in the FBI system. Soon, it would be gone from his condominium—gone from his life. He hated to admit the case was done. Well, the case wasn’t done, but he was done with the case. After all the time, effort, and attachment, Harry had been ordered to move on. Last night, the call came from the deputy director—Agent Baldwin was needed elsewhere. The new assignment required traveling, and he was finally fit to travel. Despite the disappointment of losing the Nichols case, Harry was looking forward to getting away. Even though Christmas was around the corner, he needed a break from Palo Alto, his sister, and even Liz.
Amber’s decision to hire John Vandersol at SiJo added to Harry’s discomfort in Palo Alto. They had to create a story to explain his abrupt exit from SiJo. One day he was SiJo’s President of Security Operations—the next he was gone. Privately, on a personal level, Harry berated Amber for hiring John; however, on a professional level, Vandersol was talented—even gifted; nevertheless, Harry didn’t appreciate the added angst. It was increasingly difficult to deal with Rawlings and Claire while simultaneously faced with her only family. Harry wondered how Amber and Liz were able to handle the farce on a daily basis.
Since John’s law license was reinstated, it seemed as though he itched to make the move from corporate financial investments back to legal. The thing was—John Vandersol had a problem called loyalty. He obviously felt indebted to Amber and to SiJo for hiring him at such a difficult time in his career. Many corporations wouldn’t have taken a chance on him—despite the fact the charges resulting in his incarceration were later dropped, and his record was expunged. Harry assumed John would remain diligent to SiJo’s needs as long as his presence was requested. Amber said she had no intentions of asking him to follow his heart—his assistance with investments and procurements had already helped SiJo immensely. Amber may have initially hired him to solidify her faux friendship with Claire, but as a business decision, it was one of Amber’s best.
Sometimes Harry questioned Simon’s business sense in naming Amber as vice president of operations of SiJo. Simon’s confidence and recommendation undoubtedly secured her future with the board of directors upon Simon’s death. As much as Harry liked Simon, the man definitely thought more with his heart, or perhaps other parts of his body, than he did his head when it came to women. The fact he’d spent eight years waiting for Claire was another example of Simon’s emotional handicap. It sure-as-hell wasn’t a mistake that Harry planned on repeating.
As CEO, Amber McCoy often surprised and delighted her brother. She’d definitely learned from Simon’s intuition. Now, with John, the company was, once again, making waves throughout the gaming world. Granted, they were little ripples, but movement—nonetheless.
The knock on his condominium door brought Harry to present. He was expecting someone from the San Francisco field office. They were coming to pick up the boxes of research. When he opened the door, it wasn’t a fellow FBI agent, but Liz.