Beyond Fear

by Jaye Ford

  Her arm was out as she rounded the bumper, her fingers reaching for the doorhandle as she saw her reflection in the driver’s window – and a brief movement behind her.

  Then a hand slammed over her mouth.

  What came next happened too fast for thought. A strong arm thumped across her chest. Fingers gouged her upper arm, pinning it to her side. Knees dug into the back of her thighs. And she was hauled backwards, feet slipping and scrabbling in her heels.

  She wanted to scream but her jaw couldn’t open under the pressure of the hand crushing her lips. Desperate, smothered, gasping sounds came from her throat. Fear shrieked inside her.

  Then she heard him.

  ‘You’re mine, slut.’

  It was spoken in her ear. Muffled, as though there was something over his mouth. Not angry. Not panicked. Just full of intent.

  Cameron’s lovely, freckly, eight-year-old face flashed in her mind and something switched inside her.

  She tightened her fingers, felt the long, slim shank of her ignition key protruding from the base of her clenched hand and drove down hard. Something soft and resistant took the impact. There was a grunt and a flinch. She did it again. Again and again until a knee moved from behind her thigh. Anchoring a foot beneath her, she thrust back with an elbow and as the body behind angled away, she twisted towards it, aiming high with her other fist. It found the sponginess of his throat and the hand fell from her mouth.

  She wasn’t frightened now, wasn’t feeling anything. She just wanted to get out of his hold. She stabbed with the key, swung elbows and fists.

  He didn’t let go but his grip loosened.

  If she’d stopped to think, she might have shoved away from him and run for her life. But she didn’t think. Or run. Just rammed bunched knuckles into his gut. It was a good, solid punch with the hand holding the keys and it knocked him back a step.

  A second chance to run – but now there was an angry, determined, red-hot burning behind her eyes. And, with a muscle memory she thought was long forgotten, she followed through with a left to his ribs. Air whooshed from his lungs. She kicked off the one shoe she was still wearing, lifted her hands in a boxer’s stance and when his head came up, she swung at his face with her right.

  Sharp pain shot through her hand as he reeled away. She saw then he was covered in black. Black clothes, black gloves, black balaclava. This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. He’d planned it. He’d dressed for it. He’d waited in the dark for her.

  ‘Bastard!’ She lunged at him.

  He was prepared this time and came back with his own fist. It was more sound than pain when it hit, like a train crash in her head. She was hurled against the car. Then he was hitting her, slapping and grappling, crushing her against the chassis, tearing at her clothes. She couldn’t get a hand up to defend herself, even to cover her face. He was breathing hard inside his balaclava and the tang of his sweat filled her nostrils. She twisted her head, pulled air into her lungs and screamed.

  She didn’t see the roof of the car before she hit it. Just felt the crack in her neck as her head slammed sideways, the cold, rigid metal on her face then …

  2

  Liv was on her side. Lying on something hard and cold. She smelled rubber and exhaust fumes. Her face hurt. And her hand. Someone said her name.

  She opened an eye, focused through the veil of hair over her face, saw she was on concrete, looking at the underbelly of a car. It might have been hers. It was hard to tell from just wheels and an exhaust pipe.

  A warm hand touched her arm and she jolted upright. Her vision was blurry, her head spun and the light was murky, but she could see the unmistakable shape of a man crouched next to her. Christ, he was huge.

  The fight instinct flared again. She rolled onto her hip, lashed out with a knee, hit him in the ribs. As he tipped and righted himself, she scrabbled backwards, scraping her bare feet on the concrete, grazing her hands, retreating until a car tyre was jammed between her shoulderblades. She held out a hand like a stop sign. ‘Stay back.’

  He held up both of his and spoke. She couldn’t make sense of the words, wondered if he was even speaking English. His dark hair was so short it was almost stubble and his eyes were like black holes in his face.

  He was talking again. She forced herself to focus.

  ‘… Daniel Beck. I work in the office across the hall.’

  Who? What? Her chest heaved. Her hand burned.

  ‘Livia?’ His shirt was pale blue and his tie was striped. Okay, he was wearing a tie.

  She licked her lips. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Are you injured?’

  She didn’t know, she couldn’t tell. Her hand was still out, holding him back, but it was shaking now. She touched it to her bottom lip, felt something damp and sticky there. The other hand, the one in pain, was clenched around the wheel arch at her back and as she released it, a hot poker shot through the middle finger. She swung her eyes briefly to it then held it out to the huge man. ‘I broke my finger.’

  It was misshapen and already swelling around the middle knuckle. He didn’t say anything, just produced a suit coat and laid it over her legs. Oh, jeez. Her skirt was ripped to the top of her thighs and her legs were bare and splayed. But at least she still had her knickers. The man in black hadn’t got that far.

  ‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ he said.

  ‘My finger snapped on his cheekbone.’

  He pulled a phone from his shirt pocket, tapped the screen. ‘You were lucky. It could have been worse.’

  ‘It was a good right hook.’

  He raised his eyes.

  ‘I punched him. Here, here and here.’ She used her other hand to point to her cheek, ribs and solar plexus. ‘When the cops pick the bastard up, they can identify him by the bruising.’ The tough-girl attitude felt good. Like something from her past. Didn’t sound anything like the storm of emotion going on inside her.

  The guy looked a little surprised by it. His eyebrows lifted slightly and he said nothing for a good couple of seconds, only turned away to speak into his phone.

  Liv pushed hair off her face and glanced around. She was dazed and confused but she could see she was still in the car park and it was her own car she was leaning against. The third floor looked just like it had when she’d walked across it – shadows and columns and eerie pools of light. How long had she been lying there? And where was the bastard in black?

  ‘I want to move you to somewhere more comfortable,’ he said. ‘Can you walk?’

  He cupped a hand under her elbow and she snapped it away. Thirty seconds ago she thought he was going to kill her. She wasn’t ready to let him near, so she held onto the car and staggered to her feet. Upright, he was even more startling. Liv was tall and he had a head on her. He was broad, too, all shoulders and arms in his business shirt. She stayed close to the car, tugging at the hem of her skirt. The sleeve of her jacket was ripped and her blouse was torn down the front. She pulled at the ragged edges, trying to cover the lacy bra underneath. The big man draped his coat over her shoulders. She couldn’t remember his name now, just eyed him cautiously as she wrapped it across her chest.

  He must have seen her wariness and kept a pace or so between them as she moved along the side of the car. At the rear corner, she noticed the debris on the ground – her purse and phone, sunglasses, a lipstick. The keys. One of her snakeskin shoes was on top of her shoulderbag, the other was two parking spaces away. She remembered it then, the hand on her mouth, the thud on her chest and the memory knocked the breath from her. You’re mine, slut. She reached out to steady herself, gasped as her wounded finger made contact with the car.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she heard herself say, nothing tough at all in her voice now.

  She put a hand to her mouth. Her stomach lurched but nothing came. She stood bent in the middle, trying to breathe, trying to stop the spinning in her head. He caught her around the waist as her knees folded. She grabbed for his shirt, felt solid muscle, a brick wall, underneath it. The
n tears spilled over her lids. She’d been ready for them but not the raw cry that burst from her throat and the uncontrolled outpouring that accompanied it. Without meaning to, she clung to him, her legs loose, her uninjured hand pulling his shirt into a fist, her lungs gasping for air. And he let her, just stood there until she was done.

  It didn’t take long. When her head cleared, the closeness of him unnerved her. She didn’t know him from Adam. Didn’t know who else was here.

  ‘Where is he?’ She pushed away.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The man who hit me. The bastard in black. Is he gone?’

  ‘I think he ran when he heard me.’

  She wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her good hand, looked around to confirm it.

  ‘Come over to the passenger door. You can sit in here.’ He opened it, watched patiently as she sat down gingerly and fingered a painful lump on the side of her face.

  He wasn’t going to hurt her. She’d figured out that much. ‘What did you say your name was?’

  There was a tiny lift to one side of his mouth before he spoke. ‘Daniel Beck. I work in the business across the hall from you. We’ve met a couple of times.’

  Had they? She couldn’t remember. Then a thought jagged. Teagan giggling, something about him filling a suit like a leather jacket. Oh, Daniel Beck. ‘Right, right. Sorry.’

  ‘Can I call someone for you?’

  Who, Liv?

  ‘A husband?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A partner? Boyfriend?’

  ‘God, no.’

  ‘What about your business partner? Kelly, isn’t it? What’s her number?’

  She saw Kelly in her mind, the face Liv had known since she was five years old – green eyes, long dark hair, contagious smile. Kelly and Jason deserved a break from her disastrous bloody life. She pulled in a breath. Come on, you can handle this. It’s a sore hand and a bump on the head. You don’t need to dump more late-night shit on them. She combed fingers through her matted hair, rolled her lips together like she was fixing her lipstick. ‘Yes, it’s Kelly. But you don’t need to call her. I’m okay. I just hurt my hand.’

  As she said it, red and blue lights flashed across the car park from the street below.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’d like to thank Random House Australia for making my dream to have a book published a reality. In particular, I’d like to thank my publisher Beverley Cousins for her expertise and the enthusiasm she’s had for Beyond Fear from the day it landed on her desk. Also, Virginia Grant for her guidance and hard work as well as the sales, marketing and publicity teams.

  Thanks to my agent, Clare Forster of Curtis Brown (Aust), who knew how to make this project happen. Without Clare, Beyond Fear would be just another huge file in my computer.

  Beyond Fear wouldn’t have been finished without the determined support of my sister Nikki. A thousand thankyous for the well-timed text messages, the coffee consults and her insistence that being tied to a computer was a worthy way to spend my time.

  A huge thankyou goes to the Turramurra Women’s Fiction Critique Group: Isolde Martyn, Christine Stinson, Kandy Shepherd, Elizabeth Lhuede, Simone Camilleri, Carla Molino, Melinda Seed and Caroll Casey. Their enthusiasm, professionalism, friendship and just straight-out talent has inspired me, advised me and kept the dream alive. A special mention to Chris and Michael, and Isolde and John for giving me a place to lay my head every month.

  To Romance Writers of Australia, for providing the opportunity to pitch this story to Clare Forster at the 2009 conference.

  To Sam Findley, APM, retired superintendent of police, for sharing his knowledge of police operations, police officers and his own experiences – it was invaluable. The gun talk was cool, too. Thanks also to Les Chanter for his military knowledge and contacts.

  For their encouragement, reading and advice over the ten years it’s taken to get a book on the shelves, many thanks to: Mum and Les, Dad and Carol, Cath and Grant Every-Burns, Fiona Honson, Tracy Hewson, Vanessa Barnveld, Kay Patterson, Bill Mackarell and Joan and Brian Hankinson.

  My biggest and most heartfelt thanks goes to my fabulous family: my husband Paul for the walking and talking and his consummate skill in fight choreography, my son Mark for the brainstorming and logistics sessions and my daughter Claire for her powers of insight and listening skills. Thank you most of all for letting me follow my dream.

  Jaye Ford is a former journalist, who worked in print, radio and television for twelve years. She was Australia’s first female presenter of a national sports show, hosting Sport Report on SBS in 1988–89. Later, she fronted evening news on regional television and ran her own public relations business. She has written two gripping psychological suspense novels, Beyond Fear and Scared Yet?. She lives in Lake Macquarie in the NSW Hunter Valley.

  www.jayefordauthor.com

  Praise for Jaye Ford and BEYOND FEAR

  ‘This heart-stopping novel is a must-read for its sheer suspense’ Woman’s Day

  ‘Beyond Fear is so deliciously scary, it’s hard to believe this psychological thriller is a debut novel’ Sisters in Crime

  ‘I loved this book for many reasons, most of all because it is essentially a simple mystery tale. If you’re a fan of good crime and mysteries I have no doubt you will love this book too’ Good Reads

  ‘A gripping psychological thriller inspired by real events is the adrenaline-pumping debut novel by Jaye Ford’ Maitland Mercury

  ‘This taut suspense thriller will have you guessing till the end’ Famous

  ‘There are elements of Salander in Jodie Cramer, the central character in Beyond Fear … While the action in the barn between the men and the captive women is nail-biting, the psychological action in Jodie’s mind equally compels … She’s a heroine to cheer on’ Sunday Telegraph

  ‘Full of suspense and startling storytelling … Compelling’ Weekend Gold Coast Bulletin

  ‘A novel with lashings of suspense and a no-nonsense take-charge female heroine … A must-read for thriller fans, Beyond Fear has plenty of suspense, atmosphere and an excellent mix of action and psychological tension’ The Nile (online retailer)

  ‘An entertaining, tension-packed example of the woman-in-jeopardy novel’ Canberra Times

  ‘In parts I was terrified to continue reading but had to keep turning the pages anyway. I look forward to reading more from this talented new author’ needtoreadthis.com

  ‘Racing through Jaye Ford’s gripping psychological thriller is like watching a horror film unfold, as one dramatic turn of events moves rapidly into the next … This is a creepy debut that is also written well, a book where dread at the central characters’ dire predicament is enhanced and balanced by a genuine concern for them’ Kalgoorlie Miner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Beyond Fear

  First published by Random House Australia 2011

  Copyright © Jaye Ford

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  A Bantam book

  Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW, 2060

  www.randomhouse.com.au

  Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices

  First published by Bantam in 2011

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Ford, Jaye.<
br />
  Beyond fear [electronic resource] / Jaye Ford.

  978 186471 198 1 (eBook)

  A823.4

  Cover photographs by iStockphoto (woman’s face) and Dreamstime (girl in red jacket and window)

  Cover design by Leanne Beattie

  Author photograph by AJM Photography

  Typeset and eBook production by Midland Typesetters, Australia

  There’s so much more at

  randomhouse.com.au