Free Relentless by Patricia Haley and Gracie Hill Page A

There was only one acceptable outcome—total annihilation with no exceptions. Glancing around the room, he was committed and on track. He left the room thoroughly satisfied.

Chapter 12
    A day faded into a week without an ounce of enthusiasm seeping from Maxwell’s veins. His continued vigor compelled him to open the leather-bound planner on his desk. He pressed up and down on top of an ink pen, counting the clicking noises it made with each down stroke of his thumb. Maxwell drew a red X through dates. It was the eighth consecutive mark he’d made since beginning the arduous task of tracking the number of days it would take to bring Jones down. Each red X represented a crack in Jones’s foundation that would soon crumble and fall down around him, leveling his naive and adoring community. Maxwell’s disgust warmed. It couldn’t be soon enough for him. He was eager for folks to look beyond the layers of lies and tailor-made suits to see clearly the man in front of them.
    The longer Maxwell stared at the page, the more it seemed to bleed with a sea of red that stared at him in defeat. The alarm on his PDA demanded his attention. He pushed a button to silence it. Fueled by his self-imposed 11:00 a.m. appointment, excitement streamed through him pushing Maxwell to his feet. He’d gotten to the office earlier than usual determined to get some work done before leaving so early in the day. He had time to go over his precision-crafted lines once again before taking off.
    Maxwell tapped twice on a page in the day planner with his index finger and closed it. He walked to the far side of the office and stepped into his private bathroom. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, he fidgeted with the knot in his tie. He scrutinized his tall frame from head to toe determined to look stylish but not overstated. Gaudy watches and bright suits had no place in his wardrobe. Looking at his reflection, he repeated the lines he’d drafted for presenting his youth proposal to the bishop, paying close attention to the rise and fall of his voice and the expression on his face. He ran through the lines repeatedly. The delivery had to be perfect and the message clear, sincere. Satisfied with the last run-through, he was now off to set a challenge in motion.
    He bolted from the bathroom, grabbed his suit jacket and took an extra few minutes to get it on perfectly, readjusting his shirt sleeves, cuff links, and tie again. Not a thread could be out of place. His meeting was too important to be overshadowed by a wardrobe malfunction. He hustled to the door, and then stopped. He’d forgotten something. He went to his desk to pluck out an envelope and a small sheet of paper from the top drawer. He opened a box in the drawer and counted out $860, leaving it practically empty except for fifteen bucks. It didn’t matter. He’d taken cash from his pocket in the past to cover the bill. Hatred was a heavy load to bear. Holding the hospital bill in his hand, admittedly there were instances when it had to take a rest.
    Maxwell rushed from his office and stopped at Sonya’s desk. “I’ll be gone until three.” He handed her cash. She looked befuddled. He stuffed the bill inside the envelope and gave it to her. “Can you please take care of this for me? It’s ready to go, but I don’t have time to get a money order or to address the envelope.”
    â€œIs it the same one we’ve used before?”
    â€œYep, the hospital and not the house address.”
    â€œThen I have it.”
    â€œBut, I need it in the mail today.” He took a step and then turned to say, “Oh, and please don’t use a return address.”
    â€œI know, I know,” she chimed, waving him off.
    He walked away looking down at his watch.
    Maxwell maneuvered the expressway like a race track zipping in and out; slicing between cars that didn’t have the high-performance engine that a Porsche offered.