Rage

By Linda Burson

Marcy finds herself angry, frustrated, and confused because of nightmares that won’t stop. The love of her life gives her an ultimatum: seek help or lose him.
When held up at gunpoint during a robbery, Marcy is pushed over the edge. That night, she meets Liam, with whom she agrees to join on his quest to find those responsible for the murder of his family.

Delving further into the dark world of revenge, Marcy and Liam fall in love and instead of darkness, light envelops them.
Hearts are torn, jealousy ensues, and more uncertainty arises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Class Act Books
• Release date: Oct 14, 2015

Book preview

Chapter 1

Leaving work in a huff has become a regular event. I can feel everyone’s perturbed eyes staring at me through the back of my head as I exit the kitchen door of my bakery, Coffee, Tea & Treats. All my employees are angry with me, but the way I’m feeling, I don’t care. I haven’t been my sweet self for a while. I’m not trying to be difficult, but the nightmares I’ve been having are taking their toll on me.

Pulling out of the parking lot with tires squealing, I turn right to head home. I remember I haven’t been shopping lately, so my bare cabinets and refrigerator won’t provide dinner. Since I skipped lunch because Sal and I were arguing over what next week’s special should be, I’m starving. I make an abrupt U-turn at the next corner heading back to town to grab a salad and pizza to go at a small pizza place, aptly named Pizza on the Run.

As I hit the traffic light before my stop, a car revving its engine pulls up to my left. I can sense the driver of the car staring at me and the sound of the engine is getting louder. Turning my head toward the irritating noise, I glare at the driver. He’s a young twenty-something-year-old with a diamond stud in his ear, a large menacing tattoo on his arm, and an ugly patch of hair on his chin. He rolls his window down and shouts to me.

Hey there, babe, lookin’ fly. I saw that move you made back at the corner—pretty cool. How ’bout I take you for a few spins in my car?

My eyes narrow as I deliberately turn my head back to the front.

Hey girl, I’m talkin’ to you. You ignorin’ me?

I continue staring straight ahead. The light turns green and I speed off. The car to my left is attempting to stay with me, but I ignore it. Reaching the pizza place at the edge of town, I make a brusque turn into their parking lot. The obnoxious young man drives off. Thank goodness he’s gone because I’m afraid I would’ve said something unpleasant.

As I exit the restaurant with my food, I see my engine-revving pest. He’s lazily leaning against his souped-up orange car with the big, fancy rims and rear spoiler. He’s maybe 5’8 compared to my 5’4 frame, but he does have about 75 pounds on me.

Well, there’s the bitch who thinks she’s too good to talk to me.

I calmly open my passenger door and place the hot box of pizza and salad on my car seat. Taking a deep breath, I walk around to the driver’s side of my car, and get in without even looking at the immature idiot trying to get my attention.

You stupid slut. You think you can ignore me?

I’m trying, but you’re not making it easy.

Before I can close my door, start my car, and take off, he comes at me. He pulls my arm toward him and then snatches my hair. He lowers his face to mine and I can feel his hot breath.

Maybe I should tame this mouth of yours, babe. What’d ya think?

The village idiot pulls me further out of my car in an attempt to kiss me. I step on his foot and push him, creating some distance. I get far enough away that I’m able to use a front jump kick to protect myself. My right foot connects with his mouth and sends him backward and onto the ground. He’s still swearing at me.

Stay down or I’ll kick you again, and this time I’ll really make it count. You messed with the wrong woman. I don’t like being treated disrespectfully, and I certainly don’t like being touched. Now, get back in your obnoxious car and drive away before I really make you pay.

He’s shocked, stands up wiping his nose with his hand, and says something nasty under his breath. He hops into his car and speeds off. I watch him drive away. Another perfect ending to another imperfect day.

~ * ~

After dinner, I retire early. I climb into bed and slink under the covers. What’s going on? Am I bringing all this on myself? Is it karma? Or is the universe simply out to get me? All I know is that this isn’t normal. That was the second creep I’ve had to hit this month, not to mention the woman I threatened. She deserved it, though. She slammed her shopping cart into me and didn’t apologize. The other guy I hit may have been more my fault. I stole his parking space. Although, he didn’t have to get out of his car and yell obscenities at me.

I’ve got to get a grip. This isn’t how I was raised. If my family and the congregation from church back home could see me now, they’d wonder what happened to me! It’s almost as if I’m wishing for people to do things wrong to me so I can expel my anger. As I fall asleep, all I can think of is a four-letter word: Rage.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been out when I wake up yelling from another nightmare. I’m tense and frightened, and I can’t get back to sleep. What else is new?

The next morning at work, I’m tired and sluggish when I arrive at 5:00. My restless nights and early mornings are taking their toll on me. I can tell that Sal Malone, my head baker, doesn’t want to have a conversation with me. He politely says good morning and continues with his business. This Sal is different from the one I met during my grand opening of Coffee, Tea & Treats back on May 5, 2009.

~ * ~

On the first day I opened my doors for business, Sal and his wife Rita came into my shop in the early morning and welcomed me and my business to the community. My store manager, Jill, and I introduced ourselves and we began chatting. I took to Sal and Rita immediately. They were very warm and personable and I felt we’d known each other for years.

The Malones have lived in Cold Spring Harbor their entire lives. They raised two children here and now have six grandchildren. They know everything there is to know about this town and the people.

They were the perfect people to ask if they knew of someone who might be interested in working for me, but the catch was they needed to start right away. Sal and Rita shouted out with a resounding, Yes!

Sal flashed a friendly smile and said, I know of someone, and he can start right now.

I was thrilled. I didn’t care who it was. Besides, these are the kind of people whose word can be trusted. Still smiling, Sal stood.

Do you have an apron for me?

My eyes widened. He added, Nope, I’m not too old and yep, I know what I’m doin’. I was a pastry chef for 40 years in a Manhattan restaurant.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

Sal, it never occurred to me that you’re too old. I’m just surprised by your experience and thrilled you’re interested in working. Welcome!

I retrieved an apron for Sal. Then I hesitated a moment and he questioned me.

Change your mind? What’s wrong?

I can’t pay you much, at least to start, and with your experience, I know…

He stopped me.

Little lady—you don’t mind if I call you little lady, do ya? I started to nod to assent that I didn’t mind, but he ignored me and continued talking.

I’m not doin’ this for the money. Just ask my wife, Rita, here. You know, retired people get bored sometimes and I’ve been retired for a while. My wife knows I’ve been lookin’ for somethin’ to do for a time, and this is just my cup of tea. Whatever you can pay me is fine.

I was excited. I could hardly refrain myself from giving him a hug.

Rita had a smile on her face. She looked as happy as he did. Thank you, Marcy Jenson, you made our day. Sal has missed being busy and having a place to go every day. Even I miss helping him as I did from time to time.

Really?

Yep, I used to help him in the restaurant when they were short-handed. That’s how we met. We both worked as pastry chefs. I quit to have children and only went back occasionally to help Sal when he needed it.

I have a brilliant idea, Rita. Why don’t you do the same thing here?

Oh my, yes, I’d love that. You call me anytime you need extra help. I’m available most days.

Wonderful, Rita, thank you. I’ll do that. Let me show you the back so you’re familiar with the place.

I gave Rita and Sal the quick tour. The shop’s not too large, but it’s a convenient size—1,250 square feet, enough room for eight café tables and chairs, the counter area, and a spacious work station in the back.

Sal dove right in and made himself at home in the kitchen. It was like he’d been working here for years. Rita kissed him goodbye for the day, shook my hand, and departed.

It turned out to be a fantastic opening day for me. With Rita and Sal’s reputation in town, they brought in a lot of customers right away who normally might not have frequented my establishment at all.

That day I felt as if everything was going my way and life was good. It was going to be smooth-sailing from there on out. Little did I know how wrong I was, and how much my life would change in the next few years.

Chapter 2

It’s amazing that it’s March 2012 now, almost three years since the day I was greeted by Sal’s warm smile. Today, I wouldn’t know it from looking at him. He’s not pleased with me.

Later, Rita arrives and greets me with a perfunctory smile. She’s not happy, either. Five minutes later, oddly enough, Jill comes walking in. It’s early for her to arrive. After greeting the Malones, she comes over and asks to speak with me privately. We head out through the kitchen door.

Marcy, it’s time you and I have a talk. Something isn’t right with you and it seems you’ve been getting worse.

What do you mean getting worse? I’m tired, yes, but I’m not worse.

Yes, Marcy, you are. Your anger has increased over the last couple of months. You yelled at a customer when he couldn’t decide what he wanted, for God’s sake. And yesterday, you threw two whole pies out because the slices weren’t proportionate. Honey, let me help you. I’m your best friend. Something’s wrong and if you don’t tell me what it is I can’t help.

Jill, nothing’s wrong with me. Sure, I could use some extra sleep. I have trouble sleeping. I told you I’ve been having some nightmares, but I’m sure eventually they’ll get better.

Marcy, you said that over a month ago, and it’s been the opposite. Not only are you not getting better, but everyone’s noticed you’ve been getting angrier by the day.

Oh, come on. I think people are being too sensitive.

Marcy, even some regular customers have stopped coming in. What about Brad? He must’ve said something to you.

My heart constricts as I remember the last two-and-a-half years of our perfect relationship. It’s only been a couple of months since my anger issues have caused a rift between us.

We talked about it and I told him I’m working on it.

Marcy, I haven’t seen him for quite a while.

He’s been busy with work. You know as well as I do he travels a lot. Sometimes he works at the office late and can’t get here to visit me.

Is that why he hasn’t been coming to visit because of working late?

Of course. What are you insinuating, Jill?

Nothing, Marcy. I just wondered why I haven’t seen him lately. Are you two okay?

Sure we are. We’re fine. We’re still together if that’s what you’re asking. As I said, he’s been busy.

She can tell I’m getting perturbed by her questions, so she backs off.

Honey, I’m checking to make sure there isn’t anything you want to discuss. I love you, and if I can help with a problem you’re having, please let me.

Thanks, but I’m fine.

You don’t think maybe a therapist could help you?

Now you sound like Brad. What is it with you people and therapy? What’s a therapist going to do that I can’t do myself? If I can’t figure out these stupid nightmares, how in the world’s a therapist going to figure them out? I’ll be fine. I just need more time.

Jill’s the only person who can get away with talking to me like this. We’ve been best friends almost since the day we met. I’ve known Jill longer than I’ve known anyone else in Cold Spring Harbor.

~ * ~

At the end of April, 2009, I was setting up my bakery preparing to open in a couple of weeks. I knew I’d need to hire at least one or two employees, but before I put out an ad, Jill Connors came in to inquire about a job. She was very sweet and friendly and we hit it off right away. I decided to hire the tall, svelte, short-haired brunette on the spot.

I haven’t worked since the kids were born, and I want to be busy again. It’s difficult to find employment that’s flexible when the kids are young.

How old are your children, Jill?

My boy Sean is five and my daughter Emily’s four.

A flexible schedule is perfect for me, but I’ll need you to start opening day. If you’re able to do that, then welcome aboard.

"Super, Marcy. Thanks so much. I’m thrilled to be here for your grand opening. I feel your business will do well here.

Thanks, that’s nice to hear. You’re helping me out, too. Now, I don’t have to place a help wanted ad. I’ll need additional help when you’re not available, though. Do you have a suggestion?

I’d call the high school and see if there are any students interested in part-time jobs after school. They’ll probably be delighted to recommend some of their best students.

I did as Jill recommended. I wasn’t disappointed by my decision to hire part-time high school students at all.

The first young man they recommended was Rob Caron. He was sixteen years old and an absolute cutie. He had an adorable smile and was such a gentleman for only being sixteen. His enthusiasm and positive attitude made him the perfect choice. I was impressed so I hired him immediately. A few days later, a young girl named Lindsay Melson who was also sixteen came in to apply for the job. She and Rob knew each other from school. Besides the fact that the school office recommended her, Rob agreed she’d be a good choice for my business. I was impressed as well, so I hired her on the spot.

Since I was busy most days in the kitchen, I had Jill take charge of managing the storefront and my two new teenagers. Whenever we could, Jill and I spent hours talking, laughing, and getting to know each other. Many nights after work, I’d get together with her and her husband Mark and their children.

From the moment Jill and I met we were inseparable. I don’t remember having a friend as close as this since my college days. She was always there when I needed her and she still is. I love how well we get along, and our friendship in and out of work has continued to grow.

After a couple of months of knowing each other, Jill and Mark started playing matchmaker. They wanted to introduce me to a single guy they knew so I didn’t feel like a third wheel when I hung out with them. I told them I was too busy to think of dating, and if they didn’t mind me as the third wheel, then I didn’t mind it, either. I appreciated them trying to fix me up, but I knew me. I was always particular when it came to dating. I was looking for my true love, my one and only, my soul-mate, and I was certain I’d know who that would be the moment I met him. I didn’t want to upset them if I didn’t like one of their friends.

~ * ~

After my conversation with Jill, I know I should speak to Brad. We haven’t spoken for eight days and, as she pointed out, he hasn’t been around much the last month. I call him when I get home from work. It’s unusual, but he doesn’t answer until the fifth ring. Normally, when I call him, he picks up within the first two.

Hi, Marcy. His voice is hesitant. No wonder he took so long to answer. Maybe he was considering not answering.

Hi Brad, how are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while.

I know. Sorry, I’ve been busy.

Yeah, that’s what you said the last time we spoke.

I know—not much has changed. I’m still catching up from my last business trip.

I understand. Do you think you’ll be able to come for a visit this weekend?

Do you want me to come, Marcy?

Yes, of course I do, very much. Why would you ask?

Well, the last time we were together, we didn’t have a great ending to our weekend.

I know we had a little fight, but that was a while ago. We’ve had conversations since then.

Alright. I’ll leave work a little early on Friday and I can be at your place around 6:00 depending on traffic.

I’m glad. I miss you, Brad.

I miss you too, Marcy. See you then.

I look forward to it. I love you.

I love you, too.

Hmm, that was tension-filled, but at least he’s coming and he did say he loves me. I’m sure everything’s fine. He probably had a bad day at work and is stressed by his job. I can’t believe he’s still upset about our argument from over three weeks ago. Hell, I don’t even remember what we argued about.

After talking to Brad, my tension is gone. That’s most likely why I’ve been irritable at work, because I miss the love of my life. As soon as I see him, it’ll be great.

The next morning, everyone notices I’m much happier. They’re relieved to see a smile on my face. I have to admit, it feels good to have this smile. Since I’m excited about the upcoming weekend, the next two days pass by quickly and without any trouble.

Friday evening Brad arrives as he promised, about 6:00. I’m in the kitchen making dinner when I hear him enter. I dash out to the living room as he’s closing the front door. Hesitating by the back wall of the room next to the piano, I face Brad. He looks at me as I give him a shy smile. His sideways grin melts my heart as usual, and I run right into his arms. He wraps them around me giving me a tight squeeze.

Brad, I missed you so much. I’m glad you’re here.

Me, too. I missed you, also.

After a minute of us holding each other, he looks into my eyes, leans down, and kisses me. It feels good to hold you again, honey.

Hmm, it does feel good. It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

I know, baby. It’s been a difficult couple of months for us. How’ve you been feeling?

I’ve been fine.

Yeah? No more nightmares?

Well, no, I still have nightmares.

And you haven’t been able to figure out why, have you?

Not yet, but I’m working on it, I answer with confidence.

He doesn’t respond to my comment. He looks at me and releases a breath he’s been holding.

We have a pleasant evening. After dinner, Brad puts on some of our favorite music from our playlists that he and I made together. He builds a fire in the brick fireplace, one of my favorite features in my cozy house. We sit on the couch catching up on the happenings of the last few weeks.

When it’s time to go to bed, I’m not sure if I should wear a nightgown to bed. Usually, if Brad and I are going to make love, we go to bed in the nude. Generally, this isn’t something I need to think about. Tonight, I’m not sure what to expect. Our relationship has been different lately, and an unspoken awkwardness is present. As I peek my head out of the bathroom, I see him sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxer shorts fiddling with my alarm clock. When I exit the bathroom, he’s already in bed under the covers. I pull out a nightshirt to sleep in.

You planning on wearing that to bed?

I was thinking about it. Why, you don’t like it?

It’s not that. I was hoping you wouldn’t wear anything to bed.

I smile at his handsome features scanning me.

I think that can be arranged, I say shyly.

His smile doubles in size as I walk over to the bed and remove my panties.

Now, that’s much better, he says.

I climb under the covers and slide my way over to him wrapping my arm over his stomach and kissing his chest.

Marcy, baby, I’ve missed you. It feels wonderful to be next to you.

It makes me happy to hear you say this. I was afraid you weren’t missing me as much as I was missing you.

Trust me. I’ve been crazy without you. Pumpkin, I love you with all of me.

Brad, I’m in love with you. I don’t like it when we’re apart.

I know, baby. I don’t either.

Our conversation ends because his lips devour mine and it feels new again—like it did when we first met. He wraps his arms around me and I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in as if he’s my oxygen. He does the same as he buries his face in my hair. He tenderly makes love to me and the sensation is exquisite. I feel like my body is made of precious gems and I’m priceless.

First thing in the morning when I wake, I realize I slept the entire night peacefully and I’m well rested.

Brad, I didn’t have my nightmare last night. I feel good this morning.

That’s great, honey. I’m glad you slept well.

I guess you wore me out last night.

Is that why you didn’t have bad dreams, because I exhausted you?

Yep, and having you sleep next to me all night.

I’d like to take credit for it, but remember in the past, you’ve had those nightmares with me here.

But this time I didn’t. I told you I was getting better and everything would be fine.

Marcy, not waking up screaming for one night doesn’t mean everything’s better.

Brad, at least give me a chance to show you things have improved.

Okay, I’m not saying anything else. I just don’t know how you can improve without figuring out the problem in the first place.

He notices I’m getting uptight, so he changes the subject. How about I take you out to breakfast?

Okay, that’d be nice.

We leisurely get ready and head out to the next town over to a café we love to frequent. After breakfast, Brad starts the drive back home.

Where ya going, Brad?

Home.

Why? In the past, we’ve always spent time walking around town here after breakfast.

I don’t think it’s a good idea today.

He sounds frustrated, so I don’t say anything else. When we reach my house, Brad walks in and sits down at the kitchen table.

Marcy, we need to talk.

Okay, what about?

You’re not doing any better even though you didn’t have your nightmare last night.

What’d you mean? I thought we were doing fine.

Honey, you’re just as angry and bitter as ever. You’ve definitely gotten worse since the last time I saw you.

Brad, that’s not fair. What’d I do that was so bad?

Are you kidding me? You don’t know? You swore at the car that pulled out in front of us on the way to the restaurant. You yelled and screamed and went on and on about what an idiot he was.

Well, he was, Brad. He pulled out in front of us. You just missed hitting him.

Yes, Marcy, but I didn’t hit him. Things like that happen when you’re driving. People make mistakes. You can’t let it raise your blood pressure and ruin your day.

I didn’t let it ruin my day.

Didn’t you? You weren’t nice to anyone the rest of the morning. You were pissed off at the waitress commenting how slow and inattentive she was. You said the busboy was stupid and lazy. You mentioned the chef was either having a bad day or it was a different chef because the food wasn’t as good as normal. And I thought you were going to beat the hell out of that woman who bumped into you when she passed by our table.

She knocked my arm and made me spill my drink.

Yes, but that’s no reason to want to kill her. Marcy, you’re still out of control, and I seriously believe it’s getting worse. I’ve asked you numerous times to please seek help from a counselor of some kind and you won’t even consider it. I don’t know what to do with you anymore.

What the hell does that mean?

Marcy, your anger is upsetting. It’s upsetting to me and everyone around you.

"Oh, is that so? How do you know it’s upsetting to everyone around me? You haven’t even been around that much in the last month to know anything. How dare you say this to me and say I’m upsetting you! You’ve only been here a few hours. Maybe you have the problem."

Look, I’m not going to argue with you over this. You know how I feel.

He stands up and walks into the dining room. It makes me insane when he dismisses me.

Don’t you walk away from me! I won’t be treated this way!

He turns to face me. You won’t be treated this way? To what way are you referring? You’re the one ranting at me and every stranger you meet.

He turns his back to me again and continues through into the living room.

I reach my arms out without thinking and push him hard, shouting, You son of a bitch! I wanna kill you!

He stumbles forward toward the couch, but catches himself before he falls. He turns and looks at me with the most exasperated expression, and shouts at the top of his lungs.

That’s it, damn it! I’m done! Do you hear me? I’m fed up with your craziness. I’m leaving. You need help and you need it now!

He stomps off to the front door and storms out slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 3

I’m shocked. I can’t believe it. Brad walked out on me. Just like that, he left.

I cry hysterically. I throw myself down onto my sofa, and cry into one of my pillows. I can’t control my emotions. I totally lose it. I throw everything and anything I see in my view. Still crying, I stand in the middle of my living room, lost and alone. I need a drink. I find an almost full bottle of vodka in one of my cabinets and before the evening is over, it’s gone, along with the half-bottle of wine I had left from dinner. I crawl into bed feeling like I’ve been poisoned and pass out.

For the next two days, I’m deadly ill. I’m not only sick from the alcohol, but I’m sick about Brad leaving me. I’m angry at him, but I know that’s only because I’m in love with him and it makes me want to kill myself because he left. It’s a good thing I don’t have to work because it’s difficult enough just getting out of bed.

Tuesday, when I go to work around noon, I get surprised looks from Sal, Rita, and Jill. They called Jill in early to work the front counter because Rita had to help Sal in the kitchen when I didn’t arrive in the morning. Remarking how terrible I look, their expressions are of concern. They ask what’s wrong, commenting on how upset I seem to be. I don’t want to tell them what happened with Brad. It appears they feel sorry for me, so they don’t push or say anything else. Overhearing whispers whenever they think I’m out of earshot, I’m aware they’re talking about me.

Sal says he and Rita did an inventory of supplies and they have a list of items we need for the bakery. I tell them I’ll drive down to Manhattan the next day to pick up all the supplies.

Wednesday afternoon, I leave my house for the city. I know in the back of my mind that if I leave late enough, I can stop by Brad’s office after getting the supplies, arriving about the time he’ll be leaving work. Since the kitchen supply warehouse is close to his office, I can leave my car there and walk.

After getting everything I need, and loading the car with my supplies, I walk to Brad’s office arriving there just before 5:30. Waiting as patiently as I possibly can, I stand across the street and watch his office building for his exit. About fifteen minutes later, I see him leave the building, but he isn’t alone. She’s with him, that parasite—that blood-sucker, Trish, his personal executive assistant. I can’t believe my eyes. What the fuck is he doing with her? He walks to the edge of the street to call a taxi and she wraps her left arm around his right arm. I’m just about to cross the street so I can go up to her and punch her in the face, but it’s too late. They get into a taxi and take off. I’m breathing heavily. My face turns blood red. My hands are knotted into fists, I’m shaking ferociously, and I think I’m going to explode. My head is pounding hard. I don’t think I can walk. After what seems like an hour, but is only a couple of minutes, I focus on moving my legs one at a time, determined to get back to my car before I hurt someone.

I plop into the driver’s seat, and sit. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I relive the moment I saw him walking out of his building with her, over, and over, and over. I relive the last weekend when he walked out on me and all the times we fought over the last two months, and I refused to go to therapy. Then I recall the first time we met. Usually when I think about it, it makes me smile, but at this moment, it brings me sadness to think I’ve lost him.

~ * ~

It was about six months after I got settled in my quaint, cozy home and opened my café that I met Bradley Preston. He was visiting Cold Spring Harbor in October 2009 for Columbus Day weekend to escape the hustle and bustle of Manhattan and a stressful week at his job when he walked into my little shop. Our eyes met and I swear to God, I fell in love immediately. I’ve seen that happen in movies but know it’s totally unrealistic, and never believed it to be possible, until that moment. I didn’t know until months later that he felt the same way. He said that when he saw me standing at the cash register ringing up a customer, he couldn’t take his eyes off me. Needless to say, when I heard that, my heart raced like a motor at the Indy 500.

He came in on Friday night around 7:00. He was hard to miss. He’s certainly handsome in every sense of the word, and his eyes seem to twinkle even at a distance. He’s mesmerizing. I can’t take my eyes off him still and I couldn’t that night, either.

We greeted each other with pleasantries. His grin was amazingly adorable. My knees buckled, and I thought I was going to fall.

This is a nice place. He spoke to me. I heard his deep, sexy voice and my legs trembled.

Thank you. I’m glad you think so. I’m Marcy Jenson. I’m the owner. Welcome. I held out my hand to shake his. As he extended his own, he continued grinning. The pulsation in my body at that moment was