Revealed: The Missing Years
Page 6
“Thank you for getting the doctor yesterday,” she said with her green eyes open wide.
“I wish you’d stop thanking me for doing my job.”
“Risking your life is not your job.”
“My job is to keep you safe. And now look at you.”
Pink returned to Claire’s cheeks. “Yes, thank you for that. Let me introduce our daughter…” she shifted the bundle in her arms. The tiny face and scrunched eyes were like nothing Phil had ever seen. In a way, she reminded him of a pale raisin. “…Nichol Courtney Rawlings.”
He leaned closer. “You made quite an entrance, little lady. You should really take it easy on your mom. She had a rough night.”
“She’s been as good as gold since she last ate.” Claire’s eyes widened. “Would you like to hold her?”
Phil sat upward. “No.”
Claire giggled. “You answered that pretty fast.”
“Remember, I said that I don’t do diapers.”
Claire reached for some hand sanitizer and pushed it toward Phil. “No one’s asking you to change diapers. Here, rub this on your hands and you can hold her.” Maybe it was his blank stare, perhaps it was the flushing of his face as blood drained, but Claire continued, “You’re supposed to protect me? Well, I need to get up for a minute and take care of something. Nichol is part of me, so I need you to protect her until I return.”
Phil rubbed the alcohol-scented sanitizer on his hands as he asked, “A minute? What if she cries?”
Ignoring his concern, Claire shifted her legs from the longue and gently placed Nichol in his arms. “Just support her head. You won’t break her. Hold her closer… yes, like that.” Once she was satisfied, Claire kissed her daughter’s head and added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, just a minute, I’ll be right back. Oh, stay in the shade.”
Claire wasn’t gone long, but in those few minutes—yes, more than one—Phil fell in love. Of all of the things he’d done in his life, never had he held such a precious, innocent being in his hands. He knew Claire was right: his assignment had just doubled. The little girl in his hands had her daddy’s eyes, but he saw Claire, too. No longer did he see a raisin. He saw Claire’s nose and lips…
Phil wondered how some poor kid would feel when Phil drove Nichol and him on their first date, because there was no way he was letting her go with that kid alone. Hell, he’d been a teenage boy once. No way!
When Phil was younger and on assignment with the military, his objective had been defined by others and incredibly simple: life or death. While observing Claire for Rawlings in California, Phil’s world changed. For the first time in his life, his target had been achieved, yet his mission wasn’t complete. Each day he found himself more and more enthralled with his assignment. Truth be told, it probably began in San Antonio when she outsmarted him; however, that was only the beginning. What impressed him beyond belief was her ability to manipulate the master manipulator. Phil saw how others responded to Anthony Rawlings. Claire’s actions truly earned Phil’s respect. Then, Claire was attacked while on his watch, and Phil was relieved of his duties.
Never without a connection, Phil moved on to other jobs: most were short and finite. He followed a husband and verified his involvement with another woman. He tracked down a runaway teenager and alerted her parents to her location. Not ready to give up his newfound obsession with Claire Nichols, he welcomed the directive from Ms. London. In his mind he was helping to create the perfect ruse for Claire to leave Rawlings. Phil firmly believed Ms. London’s story that in a moment of weakness following Chester’s attack, Claire agreed to go to Iowa. It was a decision she immediately regretted, but one that she was unable to reverse without assistance. Rawlings had already proven that he would track her down with relentless fortitude. As the seeds of Rawls-Nichols threats were being planted, Phil was planning her ultimate escape. To that end, he willingly mailed the notes, cards, and packages.
It wasn’t until he helped her escape the United States and they spoke again in Geneva that Phil learned he’d only been a pawn in Ms. London’s strategically planned game of chess.
Back at the estate, the unusually cool spring air nipped Phil’s face as he stepped from the warmth of the house onto the lawn. Police cars and fire trucks littered the drive. For all practical purposes, he should disappear. But how could he disappear with Nichol in tow? He’d surely be accused of kidnapping. Smirking, Phil knew that kidnapping charges would be the least of his worries. Feeding, changing, and bathing a three-month-old baby ranked much higher on his list of concerns.
The crowd of people became quiet as a policeman led Rawlings from the house with his hands secured in handcuffs. Just seconds ago, two ambulances left: one contained Claire, the other Ms. London. As Phil watched the scene unfold, Claire’s sister approached.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Who are you? Do you work for him?”
Phil’s stance straightened. The way Emily stressed the word him left no doubt as to her meaning. “I work for her—your sister.” Maybe it was his change in demeanor, but as he spoke Nichol made her presence known.
Emily covered her mouth failing to stop the gasp. “Oh, my God, do you have her child?”
Phil nodded as he lowered the zipper on his coat. “Her blanket was wet. I’m trying to keep her warm.”
“I wish you’d stop thanking me for doing my job.”
“Risking your life is not your job.”
“My job is to keep you safe. And now look at you.”
Pink returned to Claire’s cheeks. “Yes, thank you for that. Let me introduce our daughter…” she shifted the bundle in her arms. The tiny face and scrunched eyes were like nothing Phil had ever seen. In a way, she reminded him of a pale raisin. “…Nichol Courtney Rawlings.”
He leaned closer. “You made quite an entrance, little lady. You should really take it easy on your mom. She had a rough night.”
“She’s been as good as gold since she last ate.” Claire’s eyes widened. “Would you like to hold her?”
Phil sat upward. “No.”
Claire giggled. “You answered that pretty fast.”
“Remember, I said that I don’t do diapers.”
Claire reached for some hand sanitizer and pushed it toward Phil. “No one’s asking you to change diapers. Here, rub this on your hands and you can hold her.” Maybe it was his blank stare, perhaps it was the flushing of his face as blood drained, but Claire continued, “You’re supposed to protect me? Well, I need to get up for a minute and take care of something. Nichol is part of me, so I need you to protect her until I return.”
Phil rubbed the alcohol-scented sanitizer on his hands as he asked, “A minute? What if she cries?”
Ignoring his concern, Claire shifted her legs from the longue and gently placed Nichol in his arms. “Just support her head. You won’t break her. Hold her closer… yes, like that.” Once she was satisfied, Claire kissed her daughter’s head and added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, just a minute, I’ll be right back. Oh, stay in the shade.”
Claire wasn’t gone long, but in those few minutes—yes, more than one—Phil fell in love. Of all of the things he’d done in his life, never had he held such a precious, innocent being in his hands. He knew Claire was right: his assignment had just doubled. The little girl in his hands had her daddy’s eyes, but he saw Claire, too. No longer did he see a raisin. He saw Claire’s nose and lips…
Phil wondered how some poor kid would feel when Phil drove Nichol and him on their first date, because there was no way he was letting her go with that kid alone. Hell, he’d been a teenage boy once. No way!
When Phil was younger and on assignment with the military, his objective had been defined by others and incredibly simple: life or death. While observing Claire for Rawlings in California, Phil’s world changed. For the first time in his life, his target had been achieved, yet his mission wasn’t complete. Each day he found himself more and more enthralled with his assignment. Truth be told, it probably began in San Antonio when she outsmarted him; however, that was only the beginning. What impressed him beyond belief was her ability to manipulate the master manipulator. Phil saw how others responded to Anthony Rawlings. Claire’s actions truly earned Phil’s respect. Then, Claire was attacked while on his watch, and Phil was relieved of his duties.
Never without a connection, Phil moved on to other jobs: most were short and finite. He followed a husband and verified his involvement with another woman. He tracked down a runaway teenager and alerted her parents to her location. Not ready to give up his newfound obsession with Claire Nichols, he welcomed the directive from Ms. London. In his mind he was helping to create the perfect ruse for Claire to leave Rawlings. Phil firmly believed Ms. London’s story that in a moment of weakness following Chester’s attack, Claire agreed to go to Iowa. It was a decision she immediately regretted, but one that she was unable to reverse without assistance. Rawlings had already proven that he would track her down with relentless fortitude. As the seeds of Rawls-Nichols threats were being planted, Phil was planning her ultimate escape. To that end, he willingly mailed the notes, cards, and packages.
It wasn’t until he helped her escape the United States and they spoke again in Geneva that Phil learned he’d only been a pawn in Ms. London’s strategically planned game of chess.
Back at the estate, the unusually cool spring air nipped Phil’s face as he stepped from the warmth of the house onto the lawn. Police cars and fire trucks littered the drive. For all practical purposes, he should disappear. But how could he disappear with Nichol in tow? He’d surely be accused of kidnapping. Smirking, Phil knew that kidnapping charges would be the least of his worries. Feeding, changing, and bathing a three-month-old baby ranked much higher on his list of concerns.
The crowd of people became quiet as a policeman led Rawlings from the house with his hands secured in handcuffs. Just seconds ago, two ambulances left: one contained Claire, the other Ms. London. As Phil watched the scene unfold, Claire’s sister approached.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Who are you? Do you work for him?”
Phil’s stance straightened. The way Emily stressed the word him left no doubt as to her meaning. “I work for her—your sister.” Maybe it was his change in demeanor, but as he spoke Nichol made her presence known.
Emily covered her mouth failing to stop the gasp. “Oh, my God, do you have her child?”
Phil nodded as he lowered the zipper on his coat. “Her blanket was wet. I’m trying to keep her warm.”
