01 Only Fear
Only Fear
By Anne Marie Becker
After a violent incident with a patient leaves scars on both her mind and body, psychiatrist Dr. Maggie Levine craves isolation. A radio talk show host seems to be the perfect profession, a job where she can help people from a distance while staying safe. When a strange caller begins stalking her on the air and murdering people to get her attention, Maggie realizes she can no longer close herself off from the outside world.
A personal security expert, former Secret Service Agent Ethan Townsend is no stranger to tracking down the most violent monsters of society and bringing them to justice. Still, it will take all of Ethan’s skills to protect his new assignment, the irresistible Maggie, from a man intent on teaching her the ultimate lesson in fear…
86,000 words
Dear Reader,
What do you get when you cross summer with lots of beach time, and long hours of traveling? An executive editor who’s too busy to write the Dear Reader letter, but has time for reading. I find both the beach and the plane are excellent places to read, and thanks to plenty of time spent on both this summer (I went to Australia! And New Zealand!) I’m able to tell you with confidence: our fall lineup of books is outstanding.
We kick off the fall season with seven romantic suspense titles, during our Romantic Suspense celebration the first week of September. We’re pleased to offer novella
Fatal Destiny
by Marie Force as a free download to get you started with the romantic suspense offerings. Also in September, fans of Eleri Stone’s sexy, hot paranormal romance debut novel,
Mercy,
can look forward to her follow-up story,
Redemption,
set in the same world of the Lost City Shifters.
Looking to dive into a new erotic romance? We have a sizzling trilogy for you. In October, look for Christine D’Abo’s Long Shot trilogy featuring three siblings who share ownership of a coffee shop, and each of whom discover steamy passion within the walls of a local sex club. Christine’s trilogy kicks off with
Double Shot.
In addition to a variety of frontlist titles in historical, paranormal, contemporary, steampunk and erotic romance, we’re also pleased to present two authors releasing backlist titles with us. In October, we’ll re-release four science fiction romance titles from the backlist of CJ Barry, and in November four Western romance titles from the backlist of Susan Edwards.
Also in November, we’re thrilled to offer our first two chick lit titles from three debut authors,
Liar’s Guide to True Love
by Wendy Chen and
Unscripted
by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz. I hope you’ll check out these fun, sometimes laugh-out-loud novels.
Whether you’re on the beach, on a plane, or sitting in your favorite recliner at home, Carina Press can offer you a diverting read to take you away on your next great adventure this fall!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
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For Tim, whose support, enthusiasm and love are boundless.
My deepest appreciation to Deb Nemeth, for helping me whip this story into shape. And to my agent, Jill Marsal, for believing in it from the start, even before all the hype.
Thank you to Andrea, Danny and Tim for their input. Their feedback was immensely helpful. Dan and Carol, words of gratitude could never be enough.
I am grateful for the camaraderie of my cohorts at NARWA and Kiss of Death, and my friend Julie. They have been a wealth of information and encouragement. As for my Ruby Sisters at www.rubyslipperedsisterhood.com—I’m so lucky to be part of such a supportive and fabulous group of übertalented women.
My admiration and gratitude goes out to John Douglas for his books about his work on the cases that helped create the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Also, to the men and women who endeavor to find justice for victims of violent crime, to prevent repeat offenders from claiming more victims, and to help survivors and their families find peace of mind, your work is so important.
The cold, hard tile of the ladies’ room wall felt good against her cheek as Maggie attempted to regroup. Pushing up from the floor, she brushed off the seat of her pants and straightened her blouse, performing a mental body scan. Breathing back to normal. Pulse slowing.
Good news—she was going to survive.
Of course, she always did. If only her brain could believe it.
Knowing she had to get back, Maggie blotted her face with a wet paper towel and tossed it into the trash on her way out.
Her director shot her a look of concern as she strode into the radio station’s production booth. Tall, lanky and in his mid-twenties, David Talbot had been her right-hand man since Chicago Great Lakes University had asked her to start a talk show nine months ago. A communications student, David had jumped at the chance to work here. With raised eyebrows, he silently asked,
Are you okay?
With a nod of reassurance, she returned to her desk. Her portion of the studio was the sound booth, a small room just past David’s area, separated by a wall of glass through which they could see each other. As David cued her, she took a sip of water with a hint of lime before speaking into the microphone in front of her.
“Welcome back to
Live with Levine.
I’m Dr. Margaret Levine.” Her wilted confidence bloomed again as she pulled her theoretical therapist’s cloak around her. “I’ve got Dan from downtown Chicago on the line with me. Before the commercial break, Dan, you were telling us about your personal tragedy. Your wife was recently shot and killed during a mugging.”
“Yes.” The man’s voice clogged with tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”
“It sounds like you really miss her.” Maggie’s heart tore for him as a flash of her brother’s smiling face hit her in the chest like a battering ram. Her breathing hitched and her pulse rate picked up as the image was quickly replaced with one of Brad lying in a pool of blood.
“Tell us about your wife,” Maggie prompted gently, focusing on her breathing. As Dan from downtown talked through his tears about his wife of five years, she struggled against the urge to flee and curl up in that bathroom stall again. The details of Dan’s tragedy were so similar to hers. She couldn’t help but think about it, and the remembered images threatened to overwhelm her.
Especially today, of all days.
“Thank you, Dan, for sharing your story with us. It takes a lot of courage to face each day as you have.” She knew that firsthand. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Check in with us and let us know how you’re doing, okay?”
The man drew in a shaky breath and blew it out. “Okay. Thanks for listening, Dr. Levine.”
“Anytime.” She looked at the board in front of her, lit up with lights, each one representing a person who needed a listening ear, and picked the next one in the queue. It had already been a long night in the city of Chicago, and still there were people who needed to tell their stories.
Maggie glanced at the computer screen, skimming David’s notes on the caller. “Hello, Frantically Frustrated, how can we help tonight?”
A woman’s voice answered. “My mother-in-law is insane.”
Maggie’s lips twitched. Now here was something that wouldn’t make her think of her brother. Or panic attacks. “How so?”
“She wants to move in with us. And
that
would totally make
me
insane.” Through the glass partition, Maggie saw David chuckling.
“And what does your husband say about this?”
The caller sighed. “Nothing. He refuses to worry about it. And he won’t, until she shows up on our doorstep with luggage in hand.” There was a slight pause. “I’ve been dreaming about giving him an ultimatum. Her or me.”
“It’s the Fourth of July, so I’d expect a few fireworks tonight, but be careful. Don’t say things you can’t take back.”
“I wouldn’t actually confront him. I can’t even talk to him about it.”
“Can’t or won’t? Don’t be afraid. Try just sitting down and talking to him first. Calmly. Tell him how you feel. What you fear.”
There was a pause on the other end, but Maggie didn’t rush in to fill the silence. Waiting a person out usually paid off despite the moments of dead air. When the woman spoke again, her voice was subdued. “I’m afraid he’ll close himself off from me. Or, worse, choose his mother.”
“That’s good. Name your fear, decide to face it head-on, and it can’t control you. But you’ll never know what your husband’s thinking if you don’t ask. Let him in. He can’t read your mind. I’m sure if you talk to him, he’ll see how important this is to you. Communication is power. Your fear is eating away at that power. Don’t let fear win.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it was two minutes until midnight. Almost Tuesday. Her shift at WGLU was almost over. “I see our time has just about drawn to a close.” Through the glass, David held up one long finger and pointed toward her computer screen. She selected the one he’d highlighted for her. “But we have time for one more quick call.”
At least, she hoped it was quick. She was eager to get home to Sigmund and curl up with him and a good book before sinking into a few precious hours of sleep. Too soon, the holiday break would be over and it would be time to return to the university to teach her summer-school psych classes. The new session began on Thursday.
Maggie pushed the blinking button. “Hello,” she said in a husky voice—the one the station manager threatened to trademark. “You’re on live with Dr. Margaret Levine. What’s your question?”
A familiar low chuckle filled her ears. One side of her mouth quirked upward in a half smile of recognition. The night just got more interesting. And perhaps more tedious. She never knew what this man was going to say.
She sat forward in her chair. “Happy Fourth of July, Owen. It’s been a while.” A few weeks, anyway. That was a long time to go between calls from Owen. He wasn’t a stranger, but he could be strange. There was something about him, something that mocked the world and its general populace. An inflated sense of superiority she found amusing.
And he was usually good for some excellent banter.
“I’ve been around, listening. You missed me.” The words weren’t a question and were deep with intimacy, as if it were only the two of them and not most of the university and half of Chicago listening.
Maggie rubbed her arms against a sudden chill. She had her boundaries, and she wouldn’t let this man cross them. She reminded herself that she was in a radio booth, probably miles away from her caller. He couldn’t even see her. Didn’t know what she looked like. But then, she didn’t know him from David either. She wouldn’t know if she passed him on the street.
“What can I help you with tonight?”
Another chuckle filled her ears. “You’ve got it backward. It is
I
who can help
you.
” His pretentious tone grated. She ignored the stab of annoyance she felt at the thought he might be mocking her. Owen had a tendency to get preachy, which was not the object of her show.
“Help me? Regarding what, exactly?” Mentally, she reviewed the night’s conversations.
“What you said about fear, and being afraid. It was wrong.”
She raised an eyebrow as he chuckled again. Her temper, too often annoyingly consistent with the stereotype about redheads, flared at his condescending tone, but the psychiatrist in her controlled it. After all, she preferred to think of her hair as auburn. Drawing on her clinical demeanor, and adding a healthy dose of curiosity, she continued. “By all means, enlighten us.”
“Don’t be afraid,” he mimicked in a singsong voice. “I can’t believe you’re telling the public that. Fear is what makes our blood pump through our bodies. It doesn’t take away our power. It
is
power.”
“Well, fear is often accompanied by an adrenaline rush and can make you experience things differently,” she acknowledged. “It’s the fight-or-flight response preparing our bodies to face something or someone down or to flee. But fear can also paralyze us and make us reluctant to face things.” She knew that all too well.
“Everything, every action every person takes is related to fear.” The tempo of his voice picked up in his excitement. “We can’t live without it. It’s what makes our blood flow. It’s what motivates us in everything. Anxiety, for instance—”
This time, Maggie forced a chuckle, wincing when it came out sounding nervous. “Oh, come now, Owen. Anxiety can be thought of as a type of fear, but it doesn’t make the world go round. We’d all be a bunch of neurotics.”
Her gaze went to the clock. The show was almost over. She balked at him going down this road with her on the air, especially in the final two minutes, when she couldn’t delve deeper. She didn’t want to leave her audience on an awkward or confusing note. It would be irresponsible.
“And yet—” Owen’s voice took on a condescending ring “—people are anxious because they are afraid. And rightly so.” He sounded quite proud of himself.
“Some would say that’s just nature, not fear. That we’re wired to thrive on stressors of various kinds.”
“We’re animals at heart, Maggie.” He switched to her nickname with such ease, prickles of alarm crept across the back of her neck. Callers respectfully called her Dr. Levine, or Dr. Margaret. Only friends and family called her Maggie. It was one of those boundaries she’d so carefully erected and maintained. “And animals thrive on fear, not anxiety. That’s what makes predators so powerful. They sense the fear in their prey. They use it.”
“You sound like a scientist.” Maggie covered her unease with another husky laugh as David signaled her to wrap things up. Something about the way Owen’s voice had turned cold and hard when he spoke of predators set off alarm bells in her head, and her instincts were usually right.
Well, they used to be.
“Don’t mock me,” Owen snapped, his voice no longer simply hard but solid and cutting as a diamond. Maggie’s chilled blood turned downright icy. “You think you know everything, but you have much to learn. Perhaps I could teach you a thing or two. I’ve dedicated years to this subject, Maggie, and I know it’s one that’s close to your heart.”
What did he know?
A hard knot of pain formed behind her breastbone, pushing until she felt as if her heart might be expanding in her chest. The notes written on the papers in front of her blurred and swam.
Not now. Please, not again.
Maybe she shouldn’t have stopped taking the anxiety medication. But she’d been doing so much better, before today.
“I’m an avid student of the human psyche.” Owen laughed, but it was no less frightening.
Through the window that separated her small room from the production booth, David cast her a worried look. She shook her head, signaling him that she would handle it, even as she felt a shiver rack her body. She gritted her teeth against it, forcing a deep breath, focusing on things that were real. The pounding of her pulse at her temple. The tightness of her neck from her rigid posture. The almost miniscule electronic whir of equipment and an open mic. The lingering acid taste of the soda she’d had with dinner, combined with the taste of fear.
I am in control.
“Interesting theory, Owen.” She forced her clenched teeth to relax enough to get the words out. She pushed the button to take him off the air before he could say anything more. “But that’s all the time we have left tonight. Join me, Dr. Margaret Levine, tomorrow night where my focus will be depression. In the meantime, treat yourselves gently.”
After her signature sign-off message, Maggie removed the headphones and sat back in her chair, uncertain her shaky legs would carry her to the break room across the hall. David rushed in with his usual long strides, running his fingers over the top of his buzz-cut dark hair. As a graduate communications student doing his internship at the station, he worked sixty hours a week, thriving on caffeine and nicotine. It was no wonder he was skinny as a flagpole. But he was sharp. And right now, he was excited.
“Owen again. I thought he’d be a good way to end the show, but man, I’m sorry. That guy’s missing some cookies from his jar, isn’t he? He sure knows how to get our listeners stirred up, though. After that show on personality disorders, we had more people calling in to respond to his comments than ever before.” David paced the small room. Two steps were all he could manage before he ran out of space and had to pivot. “I should ask Sharon to come in tomorrow and help man the phones.”
The station’s undergraduate intern, Sharon Moss, worked about twenty hours a week. A vibrant, hard-working girl, she enjoyed working on
Live with Levine.
More important, David clearly liked her and relished an excuse to be with her.
Maggie bit down hard on her bottom lip, resisting the urge to rub the growing ache in her chest. When her breath hitched in smaller and smaller increments, she knew this wasn’t going away soon. First, Dan’s mention of his wife dying by a violent hand, and now Owen’s tirade about fear.
Twice in one night, after months of nothing.
But then, this was no ordinary night. Today was the first anniversary of Brad’s death.
I am in control, I am in control,
she chanted to herself. But it was obvious to her she was not in control.
“Excuse me.” She suddenly pushed up from her chair and walked as quickly as she could to the bathroom down the hall. Trying to suck a decent breath of air into her frozen lungs, she stumbled into the first stall. She slammed the door closed and slumped against it, then sank to the floor and rested her head against the wall. Again, the coolness seemed to help. After suffering from similar episodes for the past twelve months, she knew what to expect. And what helped.
The shaking took over then, and she chanted her mantra through gritted teeth until she felt her color return, her pulse slow.
I am in control.
She’d say it until she believed it.
Oh God, Brad. What I wouldn’t give to speak to you today. And every day for a full lifetime.
A knock came at the ladies’ room door, followed by David’s hesitant voice as he slowly pushed it open a crack. “Maggie? You okay?”