Relentless (11 page)

Nicole turned onto Maxwell's street. His house sat at the end of the block, and it was clearly in her view. She took her foot off the gas pedal allowing her car to crawl along. She rolled into the long driveway and pushed the gear shift into park. Peering into the lighted mirror over her visor, Nicole brushed the front of her hair with her fingertips and pushed the longer strands behind her ear. She touched up her lipstick and folded the visor back into place. Five minutes passed and Nicole kept sitting in her car contemplating how to best broach the relationship conversation again. She didn't want to seem pushy or come across as a needy woman. Though, she did need something more from Maxwell than he had given in the past. Sitting in her car was ridiculous. There was only one way to deal with Maxwell and that was directly. She got out.

When the doorbell rang, Maxwell pressed down hard onto the top of the ink pen in his hand leaving an imprint on his thumb. He sat quietly and didn't move. He knew it was Nicole. She'd called earlier. The doorbell rang a second time, and he released the ink pen letting it drop onto his stack of papers. It was getting late, and he really wasn't at a good stopping point. She had been adamant about seeing him tonight. There was no cordial way to abruptly send Nicole on her way. He had to see what she wanted. Perhaps then he could return to his business undisturbed.

Maxwell emerged from his home office and ambled through the house as the buzzer rang repeatedly. With no hint of urgency, he eventually reached the front door and opened it to find Nicole standing there holding a shopping bag, lovely as ever. His disposition relaxed seeing her after nearly a month apart. “Well, hello, stranger,” he greeted as he gave her tall frame an attentive once-over.

Nicole walked up close, leaving no distance between them and folded her arms around his neck. She held him tightly without confessing a word. “Took you long enough to open the door.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. I was tied up with work.” He reciprocated with a tight hug and then planted a kiss on her lips. “Come on inside,” he told her reaching for the shopping bag she had in her hand.

“That's something I picked up for you when I was in Italy. Open it,” Nicole insisted as she slid her jacket off.

“I didn't realize you'd gone out of the country, especially after that crazy flight a few weeks ago.”

“I've spent most of my career on planes. I can't let one bad experience keep me bound in fear,” she said touching his shoulder. Nicole sat on the edge of the sofa, next to Maxwell as he peeled away the wrapping paper. “It's not fragile. Just rip off the paper.” She bit her bottom lip while strumming her fingers on the sofa cushion as Maxwell finally opened the box's lid exposing the engraved briefcase. She'd spent an entire afternoon looking for just the right one made from the best leather Italy had to offer. “I hope you like it.”

“It's nice,” he told her rubbing his hand over the name plate with the initials
M. M.
prominently displayed. “Thank you. I really do like it.”

“I'm glad you're pleased,” she said sliding her fingers over the supple black leather. She pried the briefcase from his hand and pulled his arm around her waist. She'd missed him more over the last few weeks than she ever had before. The nagging tug inside had become commonplace.

“Maxwell, we need to talk,” she whispered in his ear as though she didn't want anyone else to hear. She pinched her eyelids shut tightly, kissed Maxwell on the cheek, and then relinquished her hold on him. She stared into his gaze. “I don't like the way we left things a few weeks ago.” She'd laced her fingers into his.

“We're fine. The airplane ordeal had you a little edgy that night. Don't worry about it.”

“It was more than that. My priorities have changed. I want something more than just a great career. I'm tired of my constant companion being the work I take home every night.” Nicole glanced away from Maxwell, swallowed the sharp bite in her voice and modestly asked, “Can we finish the conversation we started at the restaurant? We just left things up in the air. I have to know where our relationship is headed.” She nestled into the corner of the sofa, not sure what to expect.

“Things between us have always been smooth. No bumps. We haven't pushed or pulled each other. Things have gone along fine. We've both been comfortable with what we have. I still don't see the need to redefine who we are to each other,” he told her and slid away.

“The truth is we've both been complacent,” Nicole retorted. “But that's over. I'm simply not satisfied with what we have. That's not hard to understand. It's not like we just started dating last year. Relationships progress; they go to the next level,” Nicole stated firmly with her eyelids widened and both palms turned up toward the ceiling.

“Nicole, I can't tell the future any more than you can. What I know right now is that I'm working on a case that consumes me. That's not going to change anytime soon. I've invested, what feels like, a lifetime getting to the brink of something this big. I can't risk being distracted. I have got to stay on track.” He rested his arm across the back of the sofa allowing his fingertips to brush over Nicole's hand. “You've always understood my business.”

“A distraction? That's what I am to you, a distraction?” she shouted, standing up and walking over to the stone-framed fireplace. She picked up a crystal scale Maxwell received from the Mid-Atlantic Legal Association. The scale was balanced to the right side of justice. He was focused; the award said so. He'd been nothing but focused since she'd met him. Didn't he want more than work? Didn't every sane person at some point? Nicole swung her body around like a spinning top to face him.

“I'm sorry; I didn't mean to call you a distraction. I just meant we're both really busy.” Maxwell went to Nicole as she returned the award to its spot on the mantle. “You know I care for you, right?” He lifted her chin with his fingertip forcing their gazes to connect.

“What I know for sure is that I want a relationship with a future. I want to know we're working toward a commitment.” She wanted her words to be firm and not soggy with emotion. Yet, her feelings were pouring over each word with frustration and sentiment starting to prick at her tear ducts, but not for long. Nicole was intent on staying poised. “Maxwell, if this relationship isn't going anywhere, maybe we need to end it. There's no sense in wasting time. God knows we're both too busy for that, right?”

Maxwell drew Nicole into his arms. “Let's take a breath to think about this before we make any heavy decisions.”

The antique grandfather clock chimed eleven times signaling the end of this round. It was another draw, with no winner declared. Nicole didn't have any idea what was next for her and Maxwell. She retreated to a neutral position, breaking his hold on her. Nicole walked past the arm of the sofa and swooped up her jacket with no pause in her stride. Without looking back, she hurled two empty words at Maxwell: “Good night.”

It was the middle of the week and Maxwell was working from home. He was hard at work though his day had gotten off to a slow start. He hadn't gone for his morning jog yet which had him slightly out of sorts. Many of his great legal strategies had been birthed on the jogging path. On his way to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, his cell phone rang drawing Maxwell back to his office. Two more rings and he grabbed the phone from his desk without looking at the caller ID. “Maxwell speaking.”

“Hey, it's Garrett. Can you meet me?”

“Sure, what's going on? You sound anxious.”

“We need to talk. Things are heating up. What time should I swing by the office?” Garrett asked.

“I'm at home today.”

“Maxwell Montgomery, taking a day off. That's a shocker.”

“It's not a day off, believe me. I woke up with a headache that just subsided a couple hours ago. I'm trying to get some work done now, but give me an idea of what's going on.”

“Let's just say secrets are crawling out of their hiding places.”

“Wow, how soon can you be here?”

“I'm on my way.”

Maxwell pressed down on the end button hard and walked to the window in his office. He squinted at the bright sunlight that poured into the room as he opened the blinds. His gaze stretched past the patio, across the lawn, landing on his pool. It wasn't used much, but Maxwell enjoyed the clear water dancing with colors painted by the sun. As the water fought against the sides of the pool, Maxwell felt a legal storm brewing. He stared out the window another few minutes then hurried upstairs and took a quick shower.

Just as Maxwell fastened the last button on his collared shirt, the doorbell rang. He slipped on his brown leather loafers and went downstairs to answer the door. “Come in, Garrett. You weren't kidding when you said you were on your way.”

“Time is money. Isn't that what you always tell me?”

“I guess I do. It's something I used to hear my father say often.” Maxwell briefly caught himself thinking about the past, about his father, and pulled himself out of the cloud called yesterday. “Let's go into the kitchen. Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure, coffee will definitely work.” On their way to the kitchen Garrett pointed at a painting hanging over the fireplace. “Is this new?”

“Man, you don't miss anything.”

“That's my job,” Garrett replied while chuckling.

“It's a John Holyfield original. Let's just say it was a trophy for winning the case against Reverend Morgan.”

“Sweet.”

“Have a seat.” Maxwell poured Garrett a cup of coffee and placed it on a coaster in front of him. “Now, what's going on? What secrets were you referring to earlier?”

“Actually, I'd like to hear how your meetings with the folks on the list have been going. Then what I have to tell you will be even sweeter.”

Maxwell rubbed his index finger underneath his chin. “Really, okay, okay, I'll go along for the ride. This must really be good,” he said taking a sip of his coffee. “Okay, well, I met with the last person on the list yesterday. My hunch was right. There is no doubt that the expansion of Greater Metropolitan has come at the expense of landowners who were swindled out of fair market value.” Maxwell became restless. He got up and paced the floor as he told Garrett the details. “The first former landowner used to live right next to the church. He lost his lot and adjoining restaurant due to an alleged rezoning project. Everyone I spoke with had basically the same story. They were forced out. Rezoning swallowed up all the small businesses.”

“What's your gut telling you about this project?” Garrett took a gulp of his coffee.

Maxwell slapped his palms together. “Councilman Chambers is behind this. I know it, but where's the paper trail leading to him or the bishop?” Maxwell poured another cup of coffee and leaned against the breakfast bar, crossing his ankles. “We've officially got grounds for a legal battle, but we've got to establish a strategy.” He set his cup down after taking a sip.

“Let's do it,” Garrett interjected.

“I'll start by recruiting the landowners and pitch them on a class action lawsuit.”

“There is strength in numbers,” Garrett stated.

“True, but the more people we get involved the more things can go wrong.”

“Looks like it's a risk you'll have to take on this one.”

“Looks like it.” Maxwell took another sip of coffee, cautiously tasting victory on the horizon. “Okay, so tell me what you have?” Maxwell asked as he regained a seat at the kitchen table across from Garrett.

“The information is hot; fire and brimstone, man, fire and brimstone.” Maxwell could barely contain himself, like a starving dog waiting to be fed. Garrett continued. “You know I spent some time over the last few weeks checking out Greater Metropolitan and some of the bishop's staff. I attended a few church events including Sunday morning worship.” Garrett flipped open a leather portfolio. “One of the ministers, Simmons, is definitely someone we want to know more about. I found out one of the six positions on the pastoral staff will be vacant soon. He wants to be promoted to assistant pastor. Simmons definitely has his eyes on the prize.” Garrett stabbed the notepad with his ink pen. “From what I can tell, he's willing to do anything to get it. I overheard two men talking at the church about the bishop needing something done. If they weren't able to make it happen, they said Simmons would get it done.”

“Simmons, huh? I haven't heard much about him,” Maxwell stated.

“Well, there's plenty you need to know.” Garrett pulled a five-by-seven photo of Simmons from his portfolio and pushed it across the table to Maxwell. “He's been spending a lot of time with this single mother named Jill. From what I can tell, she has two young boys. She's on disability for some type of back injury and started attending Greater Metropolitan about six months ago. That's all I have right now, but you can believe I will get more very soon.”

Maxwell slapped his palms together hard, making a loud noise. “I can see it all coming together,” Maxwell exclaimed.

“There's one more thing I discovered that you should know.” Maxwell perked up listening closely. “I think you might want to take a closer look at the folks you have on staff.”

“What are you talking about?” Garrett closed his portfolio and leaned forward on the table with his arms folded. “Spit it out, man. What are you trying to tell me?” Maxwell demanded.

Garrett slumped hard in the chair and released the revelation. “Your paralegal is a member of Greater Metropolitan Church.”