Revealed: The Missing Years
Page 71

 Aleatha Romig

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“And you get what you want.”
“I used to.”
“Anthony, you’re grasping at anything to give you a sense of control. Demolishing your home is a way for you to rid yourself of the past. It isn’t that easy. If it were, there would hardly be a home that stood for more than ten years. Hell, most wouldn’t stand that long.”
“I know the past won’t go away. I don’t want it all to go away—just some of it.”
“You’ve made progress, even if you don’t see it. I see it.”
Tony turned toward him. “Being complacent and putting up with the shit here doesn’t mean I’ve made progress. It means I don’t have a choice. I’m not going to be this person when I get out of here. I can’t.”
Jim nodded. “I agree with you. When you’re out of here, you won’t be the man you are in here: you also won’t be the man you were before.”
“I sure as hell plan on it.”
“How did prison change Claire?”
Tony couldn’t help the grin. “It made her bold and cheeky.”
“It did?” Jim asked.
“Yes. She was something else. I’ve never had anyone talk to me the w—”
“Is prison making you bolder?”
The spark left his dark eyes. “I’d say no, but I plan on being that way again after I’m out.”
“Why do you think prison made her bolder?”
Tony ran his hand through his hair. “Because it did. I told you. She was so much spunkier. Damn,” he said reminiscing, “I loved her retorts.”
“What was she like before you kidnapped her?”
Tony stared.
“Think about that Anthony: how many times has Claire been in prison? Which time changed her the most? Could the personality that you enjoyed so much be her true personality, not the one you experienced after you kidnapped her?’
“I don’t fuck’n know. She was different the first time she came—was brought to the estate. At the time it was what I thought I wanted.” Tony sighed. “I liked the control.” His eyes changed from dull to bright. “But not as much as I enjoyed her later. I guess I knew that she was behaving the way I wanted her to. Hell, she even said what I wanted.”
“And if she didn’t.”
Tony shrugged. “It’s like here. You do what you’re supposed to do, what you need to do, or else.”
“Else?”
“There are consequences.”
“Anthony, I know that reading Meredith Banks’ book was difficult for you, but can you see how similar your situations are?”
“I don’t like to think about it.”
“Tell me one benefit of being here, at Yankton.”
Tony muffled a laugh. “There isn’t one benefit to being here.”
Jim shrugged. “Some people might disagree. I mean there are plenty of repeat felons. There must be something that’s appealing.”
“What? A roof over your head and three square meals a day? I have that at home in Iowa, where I live.”
“You do, but that’s a good start. How has your job stress been?”
“What fuck’n job stress? Tim and Patricia keep me updated, but I can’t watch the stocks like I used to, I’m not involved with day-to-day decisions. Maybe you’re talking about my job here?” He tilted his head toward the window. “I’m pretty pissed off about the new snow that’s fallen. I just had that fuck’n sidewalk cleared.”
“So, benefit number one, food and shelter. Benefit number two, less stress.”
“If you’re going there, be more specific,” Tony corrected. “Less job stress. This place has plenty of other stress.”
“All right, give me two of those stressors in this place.”
Tony didn’t need to think about his answer. “The damn counts. I hate that, and being told what to do and when to do it. Nothing, none of your so-called benefits outweighs that.”
“So what would make you come back here?”
Tony squared his shoulders. “Nothing. Not one damn thing.”
“Interesting.” Jim moved back to his chair and leaned back. “So what if it changed? What if you could come back, still get the benefits, but the stressors were less?”
“Not interested.”
“Really? Why?”
“The counts, the shit, it would always be here. I’d still remember it.”
“I think our time is about up, and you have a count in less than ten minutes. Between this time and next time, think about this conversation. Oh, and don’t do anything rash regarding your house.”
Tony nodded. “I’ll think about it, and I’ve already given the orders. The house is going.”
Tony’s jaw clenched as he waited for Brent to answer his phone. Tony only had a small window of time to use the damn phone, and the next person to use it was standing a mere few feet away. How fuck’n hard was it to get some damn privacy?
“Yes, I’ll accept the charges.” Tony heard Brent say. “Tony, is everything all right? Why are you calling?”
“I want Patricia fired. I want you to meet her at the airport, let her get her things at Rawlings, and escort her off the property.”
The shock in Brent’s voice came through the line. “W-what the hell? Tony, are you thinking straight?”
“Yes, I’m thinking straight. I can’t work with her anymore and I won’t.”