Broken (Endurance) (3 page)

Maxwell grumbled to himself.

"Did he ever get over that Natasha chick?"

"Natasha? Oh, yeah a long time ago.  I haven't thought about her in a long time." He thought back to his college years.

"Her family..."

"I know."

"Well, on a better note, you’re single... I’m single. The night is still young," Marge blushed as thoughts of Maxwell’s angelic frame caressing her brought chills to her body.

"Waiter!" Maxwell yelled, stopping the waiter as he passed by.

"Yes, sir?"

"Another cranberry," Maxwell replied. He had been alcohol free since June of two thousand and nine and, was focused on keeping it that way.

"You don't drink?" Marge asked.

"No...I quit."

"Oh, so sad. I was hoping we could maybe go to a bar later."

Aside from having been a neglectful father for so long and having finally gotten on the right track, Maxwell now had another reason to be glad he’d stopped drinking. "I'm sorry, but I'm much happier now."

"Yes, well that’s important." Her grin di
dn’t quite hide her disappointment in
his commitment to stay sober.

Maxwell smirked. The woman was making him feel like a pre-rape victim. She sat across the table smiling, licking her lips and puckering as she attempted a seduction.  If his brother had been here to witness this farce, he’d have had a field day.

Maxwell looked down at his watch again. He couldn't take it any more. He had to get out of there. The gears in his head worked overtime as he searched for an excuse to leave.  Just as one happily came to his mind, Marge began to speak again.

"So... your place or mine?" Marge pushed her chest towards him as she wink
ed
and smiled coyly.

"Check please!" Maxwell yelled, raising his hand.  It was time to go.

The waiter hurried over and Maxwell shoved a few hundreds in his hand as he stood from the table. "That should cover it.  Keep the rest." He then turned to Marge. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay longer .I have many meetings in the morning. You do understand?"

Marge’s lips moved as her eyes registered disappointment.  “But… we’ve just… can’t you stay a little…”

He took off before she could form a complete sentence. Poor woman, he thought with a disenchanted shrug.  The girl was all hot and bothered with nowhere to go.

"Those Martinez men," she grumbled.

Manipulated

Cressida Dash sat behind the desk in her large elegantly designed executive office. Letting out a sigh of relief, she opened the file her father, Charleston Dash, had placed on her desk. It was a case he wanted her to take on personally. Cressida looked over the papers horrified by what she read. Confused and infuriated, she stood and stared at the file on her desk in disbelief.  How did her father expect her to defend such a person?

She quickly gathered up the papers, shoved them back into the file folder and stomped her way down to her father's office at the end of the hall.

Charleston Dash was a stern businessman and loving father. He had three adult children,

Jackson, his oldest son, was a neurosurgeon living in Albany, New York. Christian his youngest, was a full time musician and part time mailroom clerk at the family firm. Then there was Cressida his only daughter whom he cherished. Charleston's wife, Harmony Davis Dash, had been placed in a psychiatric hospital three years earlier.

"Dad, what is this about?" Cressida stormed into his office and threw the files onto his desk.

On the phone with a client, Charleston took one look at his daughter’s face and knew the conversation with his celebrity client would have to be placed on the back burner. "Yes, something just came up. I will have to call you back.  No, I promise you everything is going to work in our favor.  Okay, take care now." He set the receiver down and picked up the file his daughter had so dramatically thrust before him.

"Cressida, I gave you this case because I thought you would be the perfect person to handle it." He spoke like the self-confident businessman that he was.

"What? Are you kidding me? Dad this is the same man Mom said broke into our home and attacked her!" Cressida’s shrill voice echoed across the walls of her father’s office.  She was furious at her father’s carefree demeanor.

"Pudding, your mom is not in any position to talk. She has lost her mind. You can't listen to her," Charleston replied. He made his way over to the bar to pure himself a drink.

Cressida regretted the harsh words.  She knew the topic of her mother always led him to a drink. "Daddy, I'm sorry.  It's just that… this man is pure evil. I can't defend someone like this. Daddy, Blake Carter, raped and killed over twenty-three young girls and boys." She went to stand behind her father. A tear rolled down her cheek as she pictured the faces of the innocent children who’d been hurt by this man. "Only a fool would take this case. His guilt is obvious."

Charleston set his glass back on the bar and turned to face his daughter. "Cressida, had I had another option, I wouldn't have asked you.  Nobody will take this case. I would take it myself, but my workload is already overflowing, and with your mother's illness I can't afford to lose anymore cases. Look, honey, it truly is a done deal for Blake Carter. It's an easy case.  No jury in their right mind is going to let him off."  He placed his arm around his daughter’s shoulder and pulled her closer to plant a kiss on her temple. "Please, for Daddy. I have no one else."

Cressida crumbled under her father's embrace. "Okay, Daddy. I’ll take it." She felt as if a part of her had just died.

"That's my girl. Hey, we can't always have the good cases. We have to sometimes defend filth. At the end of the day all you need is a shot of rum and a piece of a..."

"Daddy!" Cressida cut him off before he could finish.

Charleston let out a hearty laugh as he walked back to his desk. "Well, you know what I mean." He smiled and settled into his chair.

"Dad, you’re a pirate." Cressida remarked as she made her way to the door.

"Hey!" Her father called out holding up the file for the Blake Carter case.

She walked back and hesitated
for
a moment before snatching the file out of her father’s hand.

"Ar, ar, ar," he snorted in his lame attempt at a pirate.

Cressida smiled nervously.  She had a bad feeling about this case. She looked at her watch. Five o' clock had finally rolled around. She rushed to her office, shoved the file into her briefcase and grabbed her coat.  With a quick flick of her wrist, she locked her office door and headed out.

As she walked, Cressida pulled her hair out of its tight bun and shook it loose. One of her friends had set her up on a blind date. The timing was great; she needed something to distract her thoughts from this upcoming case. She made her way to the local gourmet restaurant and headed for the bar where they’d agreed to meet.  All Cressida knew about Joshua Smith was that he was a local realtor in his mid-forties who was divorced and had five kids.

She made herself comfortable at the bar and ordered a rum and coke thinking about the last statement her father had made only moments earlier.  Occasionally checking her watch, Cressida waited and ordered another drink.  She looked around at the other patrons wondering if there’d not been a mix up.  Was she in the right place?  Yes, this was exactly where he’d said to wait for him.  She waited another half hour, but her date never showed. Feeling lower than dirt she ordered three straight shots of vodka. She quickly swallowed them down and kept ordering more as if each one held the power to make her forget about her miserable life. The bartender ended up cutting her off.

Beyond drunk, Cressida was unable to get off of the bar stool.

Meanwhile Maxwell sat in the dining room having coffee with a business associate when he noticed Cressida at the bar. . "So are we done here? I can see a friend of mine is in trouble at the bar."

He took the napkin off of his lap and placed it on the table.

"Yeah, sure. It was nice doing business with you," Hank Williams replied, putting his hand out for Maxwell to shake.

Maxwell shook his hand, threw down some money for the meal and stood. "I'm sorry for cutting this short, but it appears that my friend is about ready to fall off that stool. Call me later so we can finalize everything. It was good meeting you, Hank," Maxwell said before hastily making his way over to Cressi
da.  He reached her just as she
began to slide off the bar stool. He held her as her head rolled backwards.

"How much did she have to drink?" he asked the bartender.

"She had eight shots of vodka and two rum and cokes," he replied. "Lucky for her it's early and the place isn’t too busy.  I was able to keep track of her.  Any busier and I would have let her drink herself into oblivion."

"I understand." Maxwell grabbed her things. "Cressida, it's Maxwell. I'm going to help you out, okay?"

No response came from her.

He picked her up and carried her out the door.  On his way he passed a short, plump and bald middle-aged man standing there bewildered as he held a bouquet of flowers.

First Night

Mei paced along the beach in front of their makeshift camp. Max had been gone for more than an hour and she feared the worst. It had taken her some time to calm Uriel down, but before she even realized it, he’d fallen back asleep. Tears flooded Mei's eyes as she reminded herself to keep the faith.  No matter what happened, they were all in God's hands.

She stopped pacing when she heard a noise behind her. Turning around, she saw Max standing there smiling at her. Mei ran to him, crying and laughing at the same time. "Max, I'm so sorry. I was wrong to make us come here. I don't know what I was thinking. Let’s just go back home first thing in the morning." Mei rambled on as she held Max tightly.

"Baby, no. I was wrong."

She took a big step back and looked at him, scrunching her face in confusion. "Oh no, you’re a ghost. The Max I know wouldn't say that," Mei cried.

Max laughed. "You are impossible woman. Now that I finally understand your point and I agree with you, this is the thanks I get?"

"Max when I thought I lost you...I can't do this without you."

He stepped closer to her pulling her into his embrace. "Stop it. That was a garden lizard on steroids. I have fought bigger reptiles in my sleep."

"Yeah, Mr. Alligator Wrestler. Where did you learn to do that?" Mei asked.

"That's how I realized you might be onto something. If I hadn't seen you in danger, I don't think I would have been able to do what I just did. I learned something new about myself."

"That was scary. I don't want to ever go through that again."

"Are you okay? Is there anything I need to kiss?" Max whispered as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Yeah, my butt for giving me a heart attack." She smiled before kissing him.

"Bend over," Max joked.

"Okay, but don't get mad. I got bit by something." Mei hesitated to even bring it up.

"Let me see. It can't be poisonous or you would have been...  Just let me see." Max didn’t want to finish his initial thought."

"It's dark, babe. Watch the baby.  I'll go wash it off in the ocean." Mei walked away. She could now relax knowing that her husband was safe.

When she returned she joined Max who was sitting next to the fire.

"Is it bad?" he asked.

"It's fine. The salt water will kill any bacteria. It’s really not that bad." Mei didn't tell him it was a snake bite and that she had two puncture wounds on her ankle.  However, she knew it was a non-venous snake or she would have been dead by now.

"It’s been one hell of a night." Max yawned.

"I know and we haven't even started yet."

"Let's go to bed. It's only a couple hours to sunrise and tomorrow is another long day." 

Max stood up and stretched before offering his hand to help Mei to her feet.