Wild Abandon

by Ronica Black

  Chan reached for a pen as she eased back in her chair. “Hello, Michael.”

  He sat down on the couch, perched on the edge, resting his briefcase in his lap. She retrained her eyes on his chart and made a note that yet again this client had ignored boundaries.

  “I thought we talked about waiting for permission before you come in,” Chan said. She knew Cynthia would not have told him to come in; her secretary avoided Michael Gold at all costs.

  He cleared his throat, crossed his ankle over his knee, and stretched his arms along the back of the couch to either side. His standard, self-assured sitting position showed off the steel toes on his cowboy boots. Michael was a tough guy through and through. And he wasn’t afraid to show it in the way he dressed and the way he carried himself. He could kill a man with his bare hands if he chose to, and he wanted everyone to know it.

  She had heard firsthand of his temper and she had hoped never to be witness to it. Not only did he enjoy picking fights, according to Kim, he raged when he didn’t get his way. Throwing things, destroying things, manhandling her. It was behavior that worried Chan deeply. She had known Kim for years, and it saddened her to discover just how unhappy and violent her marriage had been. And it wasn’t over. The nightmare her friend had lived continued to this day with Michael following her, damaging her property, and harassing her.

  “I saw Cynthia walk out and I just assumed you were ready for me,” he said, completely lacking sincerity.

  Chan set down her pen and sighed inwardly at the lack of progress she had made with Michael. He was a control freak and a know-it-all. No one got the better of him. He did things his way and her calling him on it was nothing more than a minor annoyance for him. It didn’t bother him, and he didn’t take her seriously. She decided to take the bull by the horns.

  “I spoke with Kim last week.” She studied him, studied his masculine haircut and the bulging muscles under his tight-fitting polo shirt, waiting to see a spark of recognition on his lined face. Nothing. He merely raised an eyebrow.

  “And who is Kim?”

  Damn it, he was cocky. He shifted a little, eyebrows high, waiting for her to answer. Then he fished out a cigarette from his jeans pocket and inserted it in his mouth as his other hand searched for his lighter.

  Chan cleared her throat, annoyed. She had told him a million times. “There’s no smoking.”

  He paused and looked at her with practiced surprise. “Right. Sorry.” The cigarette dangled from his lip, unlit. “What were you saying? Something about a Kim?”

  “Let me clarify.” She smiled, challenging him. “Your ex-wife.”

  He shrugged and tried to look calm with the cigarette still clinging to his lower lip. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He wasn’t going to budge, and she was growing tired of his games. She could tell she was getting to him, because his hands returned to fold over his knee, rather than resting with devil-may-care nonchalance along the back of the couch.

  “Michael, I can no longer see you.”

  This got his attention and his face reddened. But he kept his voice calm. “Why is that?” he wanted to know. Finally the cigarette was plucked from his mouth.

  “Because you failed to tell me that your wife is really your ex-wife, the one you’ve been blaming all your sexual performance problems on. You also failed to mention that she happens to be my friend and colleague.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s not my problem.”

  “Oh, but it is. You see, it’s a problem for me, and that in turn, makes it a problem for you and me. It would be unethical for me to continue as your therapist.”

  “If you two are such great friends, then you should’ve known who I was.”

  Chan sighed, trying to keep her calm. “You knew damn well that I didn’t know you. That was the reason why you chose me.” Kim had kept her maiden name, and Chan had never met Michael until he showed up as her patient. “But that’s not the point. The fact is that you are the ex-spouse of my colleague. Therefore, it is in everyone’s best interest if I longer see you. I can refer you to someone else.”

  He uncrossed his leg and leaned forward, his face etched in anger. “I came to see you because I’m having problems getting it up.”

  “Which you continue to blame on your ex-wife, a woman I see every day, a partner in this practice.”

  “Are you saying you’re incapable of helping me?”

  Chan refused to rise to the bait. “No, I’m saying I will not help you to continue to harass your ex-wife. Which is what you’ve been doing.” She watched as he squeezed his hands together, the knuckles whitening. “She told me all about the stalking, the reports to the police, the vandalism.”

  He rose to his feet and glared down at her. “My ex-wife will tell any story to get sympathy. What’s it to you? It has nothing to do with what goes on in this room between you and me. ” The veiled threat underlying his remarks was unmistakable. Michael Gold thought he could intimidate her exactly the way he’d intimidated Kim throughout their marriage.

  Keeping her face and tone neutral, she said, “I’m sure you’re aware of the restraining order Kim is seeking. Once it is executed, there’s no way I can continue to see you.”

  “This is bullshit!” He raised a fist and shoved it down against his thigh. Spittle flew from his mouth. “She can’t do this! You’re my therapist, I came to you for help!”

  “And your therapy is going nowhere, according to your own accounts. So this is probably a blessing in disguise. There are many other good professionals out there, and I’d be happy to recommend one.”

  “You’re the one I picked. You’re supposed to be one of the best.”

  “You could’ve chosen from countless others, Michael. You picked me for a reason.” She kept her eyes trained on him as her heart pounded with fear.

  A wicked smile crept up on his face. “That’s right, Dr. Brogan, I did pick you for a reason.”

  “To get to your wife?” It was what she suspected, and she wondered if he was upset enough to admit it.

  “No. I picked you because you’re a dyke. I picked you because you’re probably the one sleeping with her. You’re the one who probably ruined my marriage!”

  “What!” Chan flew out her chair, anger displacing her fear. “You’re nuts!”

  “Am I?”

  “Get the hell out of here,” she seethed.

  He stalked to the door, eyeing her with cocky menace, yanked it open, and then slammed it shut behind him.

  Chan picked up the intercom phone. “Cynthia, don’t even talk to him. If he doesn’t leave, call the police. I won’t be seeing him again.”

  “Chan, hello.”

  Chan spun quickly to face her friend and colleague, Dr. Kim Richards. “Hi, please, come in and have a seat.” She motioned with her hand and then brushed back her hair, still rattled from the visit from Michael.

  “I heard Michael causing quite a ruckus.” Kim settled into the sofa and looked at Chan with obvious concern.

  “You heard correctly.” Chan’s hands were still trembling and she rubbed them together, embarrassed.

  Kim sat forward, noticing. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course, of course. He just scared me a little.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kim sighed. Her gaze drifted past Chan to the wall, where she stared in silence before dropping her head. “I’m hoping to get that restraining order to go into effect tomorrow.”

  “This isn’t your fault.” Chan consciously slowed her breathing. “He’s the one making the choice to behave this way.”

  Kim looked up but said nothing. Chan noticed the dark circles under her eyes and realized the usually professional-looking woman wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her face looked drawn, distraught. Her dark hair was streaked with a few strands of gray.

  “I still feel responsible. For him coming here.”

  “We both kn
ow why he did that. To get close to you. To shake you up by showing up at your place of work.”

  “He did a damn good job, didn’t he?” Her voice cracked.

  “Only if we let him.” Chan gave her a warm smile, her own heart finally calming down. “He said something to me today. Something that concerned me.”

  Kim met her eyes. “Oh?”

  “He said that he suspected we were having an affair.”

  Kim stared at her and then shook her head in confusion. “You and I?”

  Chan nodded.

  Kim rubbed her neck. “He’s completely lost it. I mean, he’s really going insane. No offense, Chan, but come on! You and I?” She pegged Chan with her eyes.

  “I know, I know. I told him he was nuts. It only angered him more. He said I was probably the one who ruined your marriage. That I was the one you were having an affair with.”

  “Jesus, Chan, this is really scary. He’s targeted you now.” Kim sagged back into the sofa.

  “Why would he think that?” Chan asked. “I mean, is there any reason he would?”

  “No, of course not! I’ve never said anything about you, other than the usual.” She fell silent and cupped her chin in her hand.

  “But there is someone,” Chan stated softly. “Someone else in your life.” Chan could see it written on her face. Kim was afraid, but not just for Chan or for herself.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you talk about it?” Chan crossed her leg over her knee, truly worried for her friend.

  “I haven’t told a soul, yet Michael somehow knows.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t take words. You’re well aware of that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this person know of your current situation with Michael?”

  “Yes, he knows. He wants to…”

  “Beat the hell out of him?” Chan finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, it isn’t. I just don’t know what to do. I mean, how long do I have to keep seeing him secretly? I’m divorced. Why can’t I be allowed to move on?” Her questions were angry and rightfully so. “Michael’s been openly dating, so why can’t I?”

  “Why don’t you?” Chan knew the reason but she was trying to help Kim sort it out.

  “Because I’m terrified of him! And I hate myself for being afraid. For playing this cloak-and-dagger shit just because he can’t get over the failure of our marriage.”

  Chan breathed deep. “I think, as unfair as it truly is, that you’ve done the right thing. It’s obvious that he’s a loose cannon. I think it was wise to get the restraining order before you proclaim your new love for all to see.”

  “I only hope it works.” Kim’s voice quivered slightly. “He’s made a mess of my life.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she wiped at them angrily. “He flattens my tires, bugs my phone, goes through my garbage. He even has his brother and his crazy friends try and follow me when I leave the house.”

  “My God. That’s no way to live.”

  “I know. I know. I think it’s finally getting to me. I don’t sleep, I’m always on guard.”

  “You’ve done the right thing by reporting him. Maybe it will take the law getting involved to finally stop him.” Chan watched helplessly as she wiped away more tears. “Kim, you know, if you ever need anything, I’m here.” It was all she could do.

  “Thanks.” Kim forced a weak smile. “I really appreciate your support.”

  “Call me anytime. If you don’t feel safe at home, come stay with me. I would rather him think we’re sleeping together than you feeling afraid in your own home. In the meantime, I’ve told Cynthia to call the police if he comes anywhere near the building.”

  “Good idea.” Kim stood and wiped her face with a tissue. “I’m sorry about all this, Chan,” she said, combing through her hair with her fingers, regaining her composure.

  “No need. Just be careful.”

  Kim pulled open the door and offered a tired smile. Her words, however hit home. “Thanks. You be careful too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sarah focused on the road with an intensity she could only describe as a calm determination she had never felt before. Not over her family, not over her job, not even over the FBI. The mission was new and surprisingly simple, and so was the reasoning behind it: Chandler Brogan.

  Somehow, the woman had seeped through cracks that Sarah didn’t even know she had. Now, instead of just her father and Scottie haunting her mind, Chandler was there as well, and the competing forces were raging a battle inside Sarah’s head. Chandler fought tooth and nail against the villains of Sarah’s past, reminding Sarah of the incredible feelings she had experienced with her.

  She very much wanted those feelings in her life. In fact, having felt them, she could no longer conceive of her life without them. She wanted Chandler, and that meant Scottie would have to go. Thus, the mission.

  It was new in that she had never thought she would muster the nerve to actually do it, and simple because all she had to do was walk right up to him. Her blood seemed to move with the same calm determination she felt. She was in a zone, completely focused, yet completely unfeeling. This was how it had to be done.

  She knew where he lived and had for some time. She pulled her truck up across the street and killed the engine, her eyes settling on the house number. She had driven by the house countless times before. Not with the intent of facing him, but because she needed to see where he lived. She needed to see that he was still human and mortal and not the powerful demonic figure in her mind.

  As she sat watching, she wondered what it was she intended to say. She thought ahead and pictured herself looking into his heartless eyes and confronting him about the abuse. Her heart beat a little quicker, but again she realized she wasn’t panicked. It seemed her inner turmoil had brought her beyond all that, leading her instead along the path of present reality. This very moment, the house in front of her, it was real. Her fear and the demon in her head, while seeming very real to her, didn’t belong here in this neighborhood. They belonged with the abuse, in the past.

  She waited, her gaze straying past the overgrown grass and weeds that protruded through the short chain-link fence that encased the front yard. No vehicle sat in the drive, no welcome sign on the porch.

  A mailman moved along the sidewalk with his stuffed bag in tow. He stopped at the rusted old mailbox and deposited a few envelopes. The door to the house opened and an older woman in a faded floral smock and white sneakers stepped out, patting her permed salt-and-pepper hair. The mailman gave her a wave and a smile and headed off. Suddenly, Sarah wondered if she had the right house. Maybe Scottie had moved.

  With an adequate excuse to flee, she surprised herself yet again by remaining. It was time. And nothing and no one could interfere with this newfound destiny. Desperate to make sure she had the right place, she eased down her window.

  “Excuse me?”

  The woman turned, showing off her dark brown eyes and a smile that revealed extremely white dentures.

  “I think I’m lost. I’m looking for Parkview?” Sarah knew it was a few streets down, but the question brought the woman closer, allowing Sarah a peek at her mail. The top envelope was addressed to Scott Phillips. She had the right place.

  “You go up to the end there and turn right,” the woman instructed, pointing. “I think it’s a couple of streets down. Not far. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman nodded and watched as Sarah drove away.

  Sarah turned at the stop sign as directed and cruised slowly around the block. As she eased back down Scottie’s street, she saw more movement from the front door. She pulled over well before she reached the house and switched off her engine. The woman had deposited the mail and reappeared, pushing a middle-aged man in a wheel chair. Sarah sat very still trying to focus on his face. It didn’t take longer than a second to recognize him.

  Leaving the truck, she walked s
lowly down the sidewalk and paused in the neighboring yard, shielding herself behind a tree. The woman parked the wheelchair and covered the man with a light throw blanket. She spoke to him, loud enough for Sarah to hear.

  “I’ll come back out to get you after The Price is Right.” She patted his shoulder and walked inside the house.

  With the sun shining on him, Sarah got a good long look and gasped at the sight of his emaciated face. He looked so much older closer up. Motionless, he stared down at the ground. A sense of panic tried to ignite in her gut, but there wasn’t enough fuel. She could feel rage burn as it so often had. He wasn’t the same. Time had changed him. So had events.

  She knew what had happened to him. Ten years earlier, she’d devoured the newspaper reports. Scottie had been brutality attacked by a man yielding a claw hammer. The assailant had jumped out at him from behind the bushes in front of his house, and Scottie had barely survived, suffering from serious damage to his head. The perpetrator, a young man who was caught a short time later, claimed Scottie had sexually assaulted his girlfriend. Charges were never brought against Scottie, but the young man was convicted and was currently serving out a lengthy prison sentence.

  Scottie, it seemed as she studied him, had avoided prison but had suffered the ultimate punishment anyway. He was trapped in a crippled body, unable to move, unable to abuse. She watched him blink and wondered if anything was left of his mind. She wasn’t afraid, but she felt kind of sick. This was the man who had taken her innocence and scarred her for life. It was hard to believe that now. His hands, bony and pale, curled at the wrists. His hair was still thick, but threaded with gray. It was wavy and sticking up slightly in several areas, probably resting over the patched remains of his skull.

  She stepped out from behind the tree and walked slowly up to the edge of the porch, needing to look into his eyes. Her heart thudded wildly as she came to a standstill in front of him. She set her jaw and felt all sorts of emotions birthing within. A part of her wanted to lash out, to beat the hell out of him where he sat. But she couldn’t. Not just because he was helpless, but because it wouldn’t do any good. The man before her wasn’t the one she wanted. Not physically, anyway. Frustration, anger, and determination made her speak.