faults, but does not wallow in self-pity. I see wonderful growth in him as a man and a partner. He is opening up more to me, telling me things, admitting his frailties. Even in bed, he is now more vulnerable… I can see it in his eyes. I see growth in myself, too.
She pulled out her phone and began to pull up her work emails while Nixon discussed work with someone. A lump caught in her damn throat as she read page after page of the shit her man had dug up. It was tragic. It was infuriating. It was incredible.
Ending the call, he put the car in drive and drove hard… just like how he fucked. They said nothing, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hard jaw clenched, and his hands working the stick shift and steering wheel.
“I read some of what you sent.” She broke the silence. “I’ll be addressing this right away.”
“You have to eat first. We still haven’t had lunch.”
“I’m not sure I have time.” She looked at her phone.
“You have to make time. Here’s the plan. I am going to run into that one place we like with the good soups ’nd shit, grab you a to-go order. I suggest you act as if everything is normal at your job, and don’t save any files to your company computer. I have another laptop I use for things like this; it’s encrypted. I’m going to bring it with me when I come over tonight. You can use it until this over. As you probably noticed, the emails I sent to you forced you to click on a link and you had to read them via the password I texted you. That’s so no one can get into your files.”
She nodded. “Yes, I noticed that. And I realized why.”
“Don’t tell anyone about what you read, not even Goldie. You don’t want anyone else to have to be involved should things escalate.”
“So… you think it could get that bad?” Her heart felt heavy.
“Hey? This may seem small. You’ve got a guy who basically weasels himself into one of the top law firms in the city because he is friends with one of the partners. He doesn’t deserve the position; in fact, he’s a mediocre attorney at best. This doesn’t make sense. There are red flags galore. Your law firm is notorious for making people go through a rigorous interview process.”
“They do. I had to do nine interviews before they offered the job, and they checked my references, did a background check, and grilled me about all sorts of things before I was let on board. They basically wanted me to be Mother Teresa.”
“Exactly. So how the hell did he get in so fast?” His brow furrowed. “It’s obvious. He pulled strings. So here you have a man who infiltrates and steals your case in a matter of weeks. He did it so he could quickly make a name for himself by winning a big case, and he didn’t care who he hurt in the process. If he could do that, there’s no telling what else he’s capable of.” She couldn’t disagree with that. “Besides, desperate people do strange things, baby. I want to kill him. That way, this could all be over by the time the ten o’clock news comes on.”
She stared at the man and realized he meant every damn word he spoke. Such darkness that made her feel dizzy with fear and excitement at the same time. Maybe it was part of the sickness she’d told herself she had? The same sickness that had thrown her into the arms of men who meant her no good. Now though, she had a motherfucker who loved her, although he was still a black-hearted bastard who’d just so happened to fall in love…
Nixon arrived at ‘Chicken Soup Bistro’ and ran inside. She waited in the car, her thoughts a jumbled mess. It didn’t take him long to come out with a big white bag in his hands. Once Nixon was back in the car, he set the bag on her lap and pulled out of the parking spot. It was warm and smelled amazing, too. He’s taking care of me… He always takes care of me… She smiled as she plucked the folds of the bag open and peered inside. On one side was a Mexican salad. On the other, a bowl of fiesta soup and a roll.