No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  A shot blasted through the room, reverberating against the walls. Althea cried out. She jumped as Parminter’s body pitched forward, sprawling on top of her. She squirmed, kicking out frantically to dislodge him.

  In a few brisk, powerful strides Damien was at her side, his expression fierce as he shoved Parminter’s dead weight out of the way. His hands trembled violently as he untied Althea from the chair. Before she could draw breath to speak, he crushed her against him with such force he knocked the air from her lungs. She clung to him, trembling with relief, tears spurting from her eyes.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I went to your apartment to apologize for what happened earlier,” Damien said in a ragged voice. “I got worried when I saw you weren’t there. I tracked down your car like I did before.”

  Althea whispered a prayer of thanks for GPS technology.

  A moment later she was jumping up frantically, running to the couch where Claire and Courtney were still unconscious, as silent and still as mannequins. She quickly checked their pulses. Thready. Alarmingly so. What had he drugged them with?

  “The police and paramedics are on the way,” Damien said, kneeling beside Althea to peer worriedly at the two young women.

  “He has a syringe in his pocket!” Althea cried, leaping up and racing over to where Parminter lay. There was a bloody, gaping gash in the middle of his back where Damien had shot him. She rolled the body over, then shuddered at the sight of his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. She quickly dug into his pocket and found the syringe.

  As she raced back over to the sofa, Damien was checking the two women’s pupils. He dubiously eyed the clear fluid in the syringe that Althea held. “Do you know what that is?”

  Althea shook her head. “He was going to wake them up with it.”

  “How do you know it’s not going to finish them off?”

  “We have to do something! They’ve been unconscious for a long time. I think he gave them some sort of anesthetic, stronger than what he must have given me. This was going to wake them up,” she repeated.

  Damien looked wary, but after a moment he nodded. He trusted her.

  Althea found a good vein in Claire’s right arm and injected her with half the contents of the syringe, then did the same for Courtney.

  And then she held her breath.

  Moments later Claire groaned softly and stirred awake, followed by Courtney. Their eyes blinked open, and in groggy confusion they stared first at Althea and Damien, then at each other. In unison they burst into tears and hugged each other.

  Overcome with emotion, Althea sagged weakly against Damien, whose arms went protectively around her. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair.

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs, announcing the arrival of the police officers and paramedics who spilled into the room.

  Chapter 30

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Saturday, October 18

  “Slow down. What’s the rush?”

  As Althea hurried across the crowded parking lot of the downtown sports bar where Damien’s surprise party was being held that night, he tugged at her hand, gently pulling her to a stop.

  As she turned to face him, his dark eyes searched her face. “You’ve been acting strange all day. I just want to make sure everything is all right.”

  Althea gazed into his concerned eyes and couldn’t help thinking, for the millionth time, that this was the man who had saved her life. If Damien hadn’t shown up when he did, Zachary Parminter would have killed her, as well as Claire and Courtney, a chilling thought that still made Althea shudder.

  It had been just over a week since that horrifying night at the cabin in Fredericksburg. The specter of Zachary Parminter’s crimes and the sensational events surrounding the case had dominated headlines ever since, relegating the upcoming presidential election to almost an afterthought. A search of the woods behind the cabin had revealed an old underground bunker that the psychologist had used as his hideout. The crime scene team had discovered the prescription drugs and syringes Parminter had used to subdue his victims, as well as a stash of wigs, makeup, contact lenses in various colors, clothing, and costumes used to disguise Parminter as he moved about the city without detection. A chameleon, as the note had suggested. They found receipts for furniture he’d purchased for the macabre stage he’d set at the cabin, as well as for the U-Haul truck he’d rented to deliver the furniture to the remote location. Another receipt provided the name of the local motel he’d called home since leaving Seattle nearly a month ago. He’d paid cash up front and had registered under a false name. Also recovered from the underground bunker were the trophies he had collected from each of his victims, among them Claire’s purse, cell phone, bookbag, and a negligee she’d been wearing when he abducted her.

  Washington State police were already speculating about Parminter’s connection to other missing persons cases, a theory bolstered by the fact that one of the victims was a former patient of his.

  The most gruesome discovery was made by Suzette Thorndike, who’d found the mutilated body of Josh Reed slumped inside her car when she emerged from having a late dinner with friends at an Inner Harbor restaurant. Overcome with shock and hysteria, she’d started babbling to her friends, revealing the truth about her affair with Josh and the fact that she’d been paying off Corbin Farris to keep him from exposing her secret past as an underage prostitute, one who’d been driven to shoot and kill a client who refused to pay her. To evade arrest, she’d fled to Baltimore and started a new life. During her hysterical tirade, Suzette even admitted that when Claire disappeared, she’d secretly feared—and hoped—that Corbin had taken the girl as a final payment. Corbin had been apprehended at his father’s house and charged with extortion. Suzette had also been taken into custody and returned to her hometown, where there was an outstanding warrant for her arrest.

  Claire and Courtney’s healing would take time, probably years, just as Althea was still healing from her own wounds—the old and new. At their request, she’d accompanied Claire and Courtney to a support group meeting for victims of violent crime, and the three women were slowly developing a friendship.

  Louis Pritchard’s name had been cleared when it was revealed that Parminter had planted the journal entry at Courtney’s apartment. To quash any further speculation, Courtney had issued a strongly worded statement in which she denied having an affair with the senator. Privately she’d apologized to Althea and Louis for lying to Claire about the affair, admitting that she was mad at Louis for rejecting her and had wanted to somehow punish him.

  James Odem was still insisting that he was not at the Thorndike estate on the night Claire disappeared, scoffing at the notion that Parminter had seen him there. Not surprisingly, he and Claire had had no further contact.

  Other details from the sensational kidnapping case were still slowly emerging, trickling out to fuel the media’s voracious appetite. Althea knew the harrowing events of that night would linger in her memory long after the story died down in the press, but out of such an unspeakable tragedy, she’d found a reason to celebrate. A newfound love.

  She and Damien had been inseparable since that night. Partly because they couldn’t get enough of each other and partly because Damien wouldn’t let her out of his sight. They were working on new cases together at work, and Althea had even moved into his townhouse temporarily. Just until they straightened out the security problems at her apartment building, she told herself, knowing better. She loved waking up in Damien’s arms every morning and making love to him before falling asleep every night. She loved hanging out with him and India on the weekend, and looked forward to many more.

  She loved Damien. Period.

  And after the way he’d saved her life, the least she could do was get him to his surprise birthday party on time.

  She leaned up and gently kissed him, murmuring, “I’m fine, D-Wade, but if it’s
all the same to you, I’d really like to get inside the building before I completely freeze my ass off out here. And, no,” she warned, seeing the suggestive gleam in his eyes, “I don’t need you to warm it up for me.”

  He chuckled. “You know me so well.”

  “And I love you, anyway,” she quipped.

  When they stepped inside the crowded sports bar and were greeted with a cascade of balloons and a roomful of people yelling, “Surprise! Happy Birthday!” Damien’s shocked expression was priceless.

  He looked down at Althea at his side, her face aglow with triumph. “You got me so good,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s on now.”

  Althea grinned saucily. “Bring it on.”

  They were enveloped by family, friends, and colleagues who laughed at Damien’s reaction and congratulated Althea for getting him to the bar without spoiling the surprise. Althea was hugged by Imani and Garrison Wade, to whom she’d be forever indebted for saving her life—the first time around. Imani, still sporting a soft natural and a fashionably retro look, was as gorgeous as her husband was handsome, and when the couple gazed into each other’s eyes, it seemed that no one else existed. Althea was introduced to Reggie Wade—a dentist who shared his brothers’ dark good looks—and his wife and three teenage children, who offered shy smiles. Rosemary Wade, the petite matriarch of the family, fussed over Althea and promised to stop by the townhouse with more food to compensate for Damien’s lack of “culinary know-how”—the latter said with an affectionate pat on her son’s cheek. India, still basking in the glow of mastering Rosemary’s blueberry pancakes, traded a secret smile with her father over her grandmother’s head.

  As Althea and Damien moved through the crowd, smiling and greeting more guests, he kept his arm curved possessively around her waist, a feeling she liked very much.

  By the time they joined his family at the table reserved for the guest of honor, the party was in full swing. The bartender dispensed drinks with fluid ease while waiters bustled about delivering fragrant meals on huge plates. The festive sounds of laughter, tinkling glasses, and animated conversations competed with the pulsing music that lured people out on to the dance floor. Among the dancers were Damien, Garrison, and Reggie, who drew a hearty round of applause when they regaled the crowd with their “Wade Shuffle,” an old dance they’d made up when they were younger. More than a few murmurs of female appreciation could be heard around the room as the handsome brothers, laughing and clapping one another on the back, made their way off the dance floor.

  Someone proposed a toast to the birthday boy, and Damien took center stage to thank his family and friends for the wonderful birthday surprise. Althea was smiling, sipping a fruity cocktail as she watched him from their table, when suddenly his dark gaze fastened on her.

  “Many of you don’t know this,” he said to the guests, “but Althea Pritchard and I met for the first time on my actual birthday two weeks ago. And I have to tell you, as incredible as this party has been, nothing compares to the night I took Althea in my arms and we danced together for the first time.”

  Althea’s heart melted as she smiled at him, oblivious to the appreciative sighs that went up all around her.

  But Damien wasn’t finished. “I was going to do this over a candlelight dinner tomorrow night, but here is just as good a place as any.”

  Althea froze, staring at him. Suddenly her heart was thumping.

  An air of hushed excitement swept through the room.

  Holding her gaze, Damien said huskily, “Althea Lynette Pritchard, will you marry me?”

  Althea’s eyes widened in shock. She heard collective gasps around the room. Someone plucked the drink from her hand, maybe Keren or Kimberly.

  And the next thing Althea knew she was walking, then running across the room to reach Damien. They met halfway, his arms banding tightly around her as he lifted her off the floor and swept her in a circle.

  “Yes,” Althea whispered, choked with emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  Damien grinned broadly, and just in case others had missed her answer, he announced to the guests, “She said yes!”

  Loud cheers and clapping erupted around the room.

  Althea and Damien kissed deeply and hungrily to a chorus of more applause. They laughed as they drew apart. Damien took her hand and led her to the dance floor, where the slow song they’d danced to that night had just started playing.

  As they melted into each other’s arms, Damien gazed down at her. “I almost lost you last week, and for as long as I live, I’ll never forget that feeling when I thought I might never see you again. It felt like my heart was being ripped out of my body.”

  “Don’t think about that,” Althea said tenderly. “We were given a second chance. And now it’s up to us to make the most of it, for the rest of our lives.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Damien said huskily. He gently touched her face. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” Althea smiled softly. “I was thinking maybe we could go back to that bed and breakfast sometime and enjoy some of the, ah, amenities that we were unable to before.”

  He flashed a wolfish grin. “What’re you talking about? I enjoyed plenty of amenities that night.”

  Althea laughed. “You know what I meant.”

  “I know. And, yes, I’d love to go back there with you. Maybe next weekend.”

  “That sounds good. We can start planning the wedding, the honeymoon . . . our family.”

  Damien stared at her, tenderness washing over his face. Without a word he pulled her closer. Althea nestled against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her palm. Fast and strong. Like the way he drove, and the man he was.

  She smiled contentedly. “Damien?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he growled softly.

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  Copyright © 2008 Maureen Smith

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  ISBN: 978-0-7582-2740-9