Within minutes, the drug was once again in control, and Tony was directing her movements. With trembling hands, she obeyed, removing his wet clothes and following each command. Her fight was gone. The fire he’d momentarily seen in her eyes was now detached terror.
When he turned off the water, they were both clean. As Claire huddled against the shower wall, Tony contemplated his next move. There were so many possibilities; he told himself to take it slow. His plan had been in place for too long; he wanted to savor every moment.
Stepping into the small bathroom, he added his wet clothes to the pile containing her ruined dress and handed her a towel. Apprehensively, she took his offer and wrapped it around herself. Her long, dark hair dripped down her back as the water puddled on the floor.
Without looking up, she asked, “Are you going to hurt me?”
He’d read about the GHB. He knew these scenes would be forever erased from her memory. He could do whatever he wanted, and she’d never remember.
The sensual tone of seduction was gone; in its place was the authoritative tone of someone with an agenda. Tony refused to allow her fear or emotions to alter his plans. “That isn’t my plan. We’ll see how well you can follow directions.”
Tony pulled on the edge of Claire’s towel as she stepped back against the wall. Her clouded eyes opened wide and quickly looked away. He wondered if she could subconsciously fight the effects of the drug. He watched as she worked to form the right words. Finally, she mumbled, “Please.”
He stepped closer, his nude body still wet and his desire visible. “Please, what?”
“Please, don’t hurt me.”
“I have rules, Claire.” He gently pushed her wet hair away from her face. “Can you follow my rules?”
Avoiding eye contact, she nodded.
Abruptly, he raised her chin. “Don’t look away. I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”
“Yes, I can follow your rules.”
“Rule number one is to do as I say. I suggest you learn to follow that rule, if you want to make the best of this.”
Keeping her eyes downcast, her shoulders quaked as she silently sobbed. Once again, his hand struck her cheek.
“I told you not to look away.”
Her eyes immediately flashed toward his. Instantaneously, the clouds returned as pools of tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’ll do as you say; please stop hitting me.”
The memories made Tony’s stomach turn. Of course, none of that was in Claire’s testimony. The GHB hid those memories from her, as well as other memories of the things he did during that flight and once they returned to Iowa.
Her testimony picked up the next day, when the drug was fully out of her system. It wasn’t until then that she started to understand the magnitude of her situation; nevertheless, the truth hit Tony between the eyes. Perspiration drenched his face and the illness he’d felt in the pit of his empty stomach erupted into full blown nausea. No matter what he did to make Claire’s life better or show her he’d changed, these memories would always linger in the recesses of his mind. For the rest of his life, he’d know what he’d done.
Tony hated himself for all of it—hell, he always had the end justifies the means argument, but even he didn’t believe that anymore. Not now. Not now that he knew Claire and loved Claire. The thought of someone doing to her what he’d done filled him with rage. If it were another person whom she described, Tony would want him dead. He’d leave no stone unturned to make him pay for his sins.
Tears coated his cheeks before he realized Brent was standing right in front of him.
“I take it you’ve read Claire’s testimony?”
Tony nodded. He didn’t want Brent knowing about this. Now Courtney would know. He should deny it and argue—but the image of Claire—not from her testimony—but from his memory—on his plane, wrapped in that towel, trembling and scared—wouldn’t let him lie.
“If the shit in that binder’s true, you’re one sick bastard”—Brent turned a circle—“I’m your personal attorney and friend. Tell me what we’re up against.”
Tony remained silent, his eyes so clouded with memories he could barely see the room around him.
“Damn it, Tony!” The table vibrated with the slap of Brent’s hand as his fury and anger filled the air. “Tell me the truth!”
The ferocity within the room grew as Tony’s anguish also began to build. Springing from the chair, he pushed past Brent and paced. “Where the hell did they get this? What the fuck does it mean? Is Claire alive? Do they know where she is? Did she press charges? Is that what this whole damn day is about?”
Brent seized Tony’s shoulders, as he demanded. “Fuck’n tell me if it’s true.”
Never had Brent spoken to Tony with that tone. Tony couldn’t help but retaliate, “Let go of me, or I swear to God I’ll punch you in the face!”