“I’m sorry,” Delilah mumbled. “That has nothing to do with me and my child.”
“The hell it doesn’t. Look at me. Look at me.”
Delilah looked into his eyes.
“I’m not the man who cares about your money or your connections. I’m not the man who cares about your privileged life or protecting your reputation. And I’m not the man you can buy. I want my son. He belongs to me. Do you hear me? He’s my blood.”
The soft plea in her eyes evaporated. Maverick wasn’t sure if it was an act. He wasn’t sure if his words were just a hard dose of clarity. She looked him over and then leveled her stare at him. “You’re confused, Mr. Maverick Lennon, if you mistake my heartfelt apology for being weak. My child belongs to no one but me. That picture is the closest you will ever get to him.”
“We’ll see,” Maverick said.
“We will, won’t we,” she gave him a gracious smile. She picked up her phone. “We’re done.”
“See you in court,” he tossed back at her. Before he could say another word, she walked out of the conference room. Kenneth Richards and Armand both returned. The men looked to him for an explanation. Maverick stared at his wife who’s ghostly image sat in the chair Delilah Montgomery vacated. She stared at him from across the table. Like a candle flame in the wind, reality blew out the memory of her, and she was gone. Maverick was alone. He’d lost so much; each time he reached for someone or something to hold on to, it slipped from his grasp. Maverick recalled the smiling face of his son on those pictures. The fight for his life had just begun.
“How’d it go?” Armand asked.
Maverick glanced at Armand and then back to the empty space where he’d seen his wife and past life slip away. “You said you’d help. Did you mean it?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Armand smiled.
“Whatever it costs, I plan to pay you back,” He looked up Armand. “I will pay you back.”
Armand shrugged.
“We’re going to war,” Maverick informed the movie-star and attorney.
Armand chuckled. “That’s what I’m here for—war. Now gentlemen, let me tell you the real story of Delilah Montgomery. Let’s get to work.”
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?” Tyson asked. He slammed the door to the Range Rover. He took the seat next to Delilah. Jefferson, her confidant, and employee was seated on the passenger side. “I told you that I would handle him.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Delilah answered. She stared out of the window at the congestion of traffic they were stuck in. She slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes.
“Well?” Tyson asked.
“I’m handling everything from here on,” Delilah said.
“The hell you are. My senate seat is in jeopardy. There will be a hearing about this. We need to contain it together. We agreed.”
“I only agreed to protect my child. Not the Montgomery name and not your political career. Far as I’m concerned. We aren’t in this together, Tyson.”
“You can’t walk away from a family you spent a decade trying to belong to,” he tossed back.
“Watch me.” She cut her eyes away. “Jefferson? By the end of the day, I want to know everything about this disgraced cop Maverick Lennon. Not just why he left the police force but what the NYPD covered up. My guess is he’s no angel. I mean it. Every and anything you can find on him.”
“Yes, mam,” Jefferson said.
“You think you can do it all. Don’t you? You think you’re a superwoman? That man doesn’t give a shit about your money or your looks. You’re fresh out of tricks, Delilah.”
“Stop the truck,” Delilah said.
The driver swerved out of traffic. He pulled up to the curbside. The caravan of SUVs following them made the same maneuver. The senator looked at her and frowned. “What the fuck?”
“Get—out.”
Tyson laughed.
Delilah didn’t.
Jefferson got out of the Range Rover and then opened the Senator’s door.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? You can’t just put me out, bitch.”
“Get out of the truck, or I will. I’ll stop traffic screaming you attacked me. What would that do to your delicate situation, Senator?” Delilah asked.
“My mother was right about you.”
“I don’t give a damn about you and, or what Mother Abigail thinks of me. I found out in that office today that this war. We’re not fighting on the same team. We never were. You think I’m a bitch, because I’m done with your bullshit. Wait until you see who I really am. Now get the hell out of my truck!”
“Sir, out of the vehicle now,” Jefferson ordered.
“You just made another enemy.” The Senator said. Delilah shrugged. Senator Tyson grabbed his attaché and got out of the Range Rover. Jefferson got in, and they pulled away. Delilah sent a text message to Queen that she would need to see her as soon as she returned to Falcon Cove. She was determined to do whatever it took to protect her son.
Chapter Four
TEARS IN MOONLIGHT
Jan 2020, Cazenovia
There were better tools in his toolbox to use. However, Maverick was old school. On the 83 Cutlass Supreme, he would not dare touch a bolt without his lucky wrench. He found it after nearly dumping every tool he had on the garage floor. He worked the bolt back and forth while listening to Nirvana as it blasts from his speaker system in the garage. He had no idea he had a visitor. Not until Smith was standing next to him.
“Maverick?”
Startled, he shot up and hit the top of his head on the hood of the car. “Shit!”
Smith Greenley chuckled.
“What the hell, man?” Maverick came from under the hood. He threw his wrench in the toolbox and rubbed the crown of his head.
“W’sup, brother,” Smith said and hugged him. He stiffened at first, but Smith was one of the last friends he had left on the force. Javier had walked away from their friendship once Camille died. He hugged Smith in return.
“Give me a sec,” Maverick said. He walked over and grabbed the remote, and turned the music down to a whimper. He then went into the fridge in his garage and got out two beers. Maverick returned, giving one to Smith. His friend grinned in appreciation of the cold green bottle.
“Don’t walk upon a man in his home like that. You know I got temper issues.”
Smith popped the top of the beer and then took a deep swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re not home. This is a garage.”
“I live out back,” Maverick said.
“No, shit?”
“No shit,” Maverick said. “Come on. Follow me.”
Cliff did. Maverick walked him through the garage and through the back door. The trailer he parked there on his lot was big enough for just him. When he was married to Melissa, they had a five-bedroom home. When Melissa died, he sold it and moved to the Bronx with Camille. She had a two-bedroom apartment rent fixed, given to her by her aunt. He needed the change. It helped him. Camille healed him. Soon he and his partner were fucking on the roof and talking shit about cases. It was as if his dear wife’s ghost wasn’t sitting in the room watching them. Then time moved on. Just as he believed he could find happiness again, Camille’s life was snuffed out. Smith had seen it all. They were in the academy together. They were on several task forces together. And when Camille became his partner under the new task force Maverick had put together for the drug enforcement unit, everyone suspected her allegiance to him ran deeper than their profession. Smith had tried many times to seduce her into his web of false promises. Camille wasn’t having it. She was the kind of woman you had to earn.