Like No One Else

by Maureen Smith

  “Damn you!” Tommie hissed furiously. “You’re in no position to be making threats. You lied to me!”

  “I didn’t lie to you,” he bit out.

  “Right,” she said, sneering. “You just committed the sin of omission. No big deal.”

  “Damn it, Tommie, I didn’t kill anyone!”

  “Why did you cover up your affair with that woman in San Antonio?”

  “Because I was ashamed!” he exploded, his face inches from hers. “Getting involved with Hailey Morrisette was a huge mistake, one that I’ll regret for the rest of my damned life. Whatever else you might think of me and my track record with women, believe me when I tell you that cheating on my wife was the absolute last thing I’d ever planned.”

  “It just happened, right?” Tommie couldn’t keep the bitter mockery from her voice.

  Paulo lifted his head and took a step backward, a muscle working in his jaw, a dangerous glint in his eyes that warned her not to push her luck. When he spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. “I met Hailey when I was at the lowest point in my marriage. She was smart, funny, and the way she looked reminded me of Ashton, a woman I’d known since we were kids in summer camp. One day Hailey invited me out for coffee, then it was lunch, and things just spun out of control after that. Jaci and I were miserable with each other, two strangers living under the same roof. But that’s no excuse for what I did. I not only broke my marriage vows, I ruined Hailey’s life. She made the mistake of falling in love with me. She wanted me to leave my wife, and the more I refused, the unhappier she became. Damn it, I’m not proud of the way I handled things. If I had a chance to do it over again, I swear I’d do things a helluva lot differently. But I don’t have that option.”

  He blew out a ragged breath and jammed a trembling hand through his hair. “After Hailey was killed, I felt even guiltier. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Hell, no one deserves to die like that. I started having nightmares, horrifying nightmares of what had been done to her. To cope with the guilt I was feeling I started smoking again, and my drinking got even worse. By the time Jaci asked for a divorce I was a complete disaster, a train wreck waiting to happen. She’s lucky she got out when she did. As for me, it would be another four years before I could climb my way out of a bottle. How I managed to still do my job during that time is a miracle in and of itself.” He shuddered, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if to shut out the painful memories.

  Tommie stared at his haggard, handsome face, her heart constricting with compassion, aching with love. She wanted to comfort him, soothe him, heal all his wounds. She wanted to take him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. She was too afraid. Afraid to trust, afraid to be hurt again.

  And when he opened his eyes and saw the fear reflected in hers, his face darkened. “You still don’t believe me,” he whispered in wounded disbelief. “My God, you believe everything you just heard on the news, don’t you? You think I killed those women!”

  Tommie shook her head vehemently. “No! I don’t—”

  “Damn it, don’t lie to me.”

  “I don’t know what to think!” she burst out, frustrated. “You’re telling me you didn’t sleep with Ashton Dupree, but you were overheard arguing with her, and your fingerprint was found at her damned house. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

  His mouth twisted cynically. “You’re supposed to think that someone’s setting me up,” he snarled, his voice vibrating with controlled fury. “You’re supposed to remember the conversation we just had about being in this together. You’re supposed to trust me, believe in me. You’re supposed to act like someone who claims to love me. You’re not supposed to put me in the same category as the sorry bastard who betrayed you.”

  Tommie flinched at his harsh words, hurt flaring in her chest, tears springing to her eyes. She took a step backward. “I think you should go,” she whispered.

  Pain flashed in his eyes. His nostrils flared. “Damn it, Tommie—”

  “Just go.”

  “Tommie—”

  “Go!” she screamed.

  He held her gaze another tense moment, then turned and stormed out of the building, slamming the door shut on her, on them. She stood there for a long time, the deafening silence pounding in her ears, their angry words echoing in her mind, the taste of heartbreak bitter in her mouth.

  Chapter 24

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Frankie Durand asked, her voice full of gentle concern.

  Tommie sniffled into the phone, feeling physically and emotionally depleted after spending the past several hours bawling her eyes out. Her cell phone had been ringing nonstop, and after avoiding calls most of the afternoon—because the only person she wanted to hear from wouldn’t be calling—she’d finally mustered the strength to drag herself out of bed and lumber down the hallway to the living room, where she’d left the phone on the ottoman.

  “Tommie?” Frankie prodded.

  “I’ll be fine,” Tommie mumbled, though in her heart she knew she’d be anything but.

  “You shouldn’t be alone,” her sister insisted. “Why don’t you let Zhane come over and keep you company?”

  Tommie shook her head weakly. “I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s had enough on his mind with his nephew in the hospital. He needs a break from taking care of others. Besides, he hasn’t even heard what happened, and I don’t feel up to rehashing it.”

  “What do you mean he hasn’t heard? It’s been all over the news, even here in San Antonio.”

  Tommie grimaced, and couldn’t help feeling a twinge of relief that she hadn’t told her parents about her engagement to Paulo. They’d always accused her of having horrible taste in men. Hearing that the man she intended to marry was a suspected murderer would only validate their criticisms of her, even though she knew Paulo was innocent.

  “Zhane hasn’t heard the news because he’s been running back and forth between the hospital and the dance studio,” Tommie said wearily. “I don’t think he’s been anywhere near a television all day. The last voice mail I received from him, he was still talking about coming over tonight to celebrate my—” She broke off, unable to finish.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Frankie murmured sympathetically. “You’re going to have to tell Zhane when he gets there.”

  “He’s not coming,” Tommie said miserably. “I called him back and left a message, told him Paulo and I had special plans this evening and asked him for a rain check on our champagne toast.”

  “Oh, Tommie,” Frankie gently chided. “He’s your best friend. If he knew how much pain you’re in right now, he’d want to be there for you.”

  Tommie sighed heavily. “I know. If he hasn’t heard by tomorrow morning, I’ll tell him. I just need to be alone tonight.” She hesitated, then confessed in a small, tremulous voice, “I called Paulo right after he left. I wanted him to come back so we could discuss what, if anything, I could do to help him. But he hasn’t returned my call. Have Rafe or Sebastien heard anything?”

  “No, and they’re both worried. We all are. Paulo’s not answering his phone, and everyone has been calling him. The entire family’s in an uproar. Ignacio and Naomi have already gone to see the district attorney and the police chief, and they’re threatening to slap everyone from the police department to the media with defamation lawsuits. I just got off the phone with Korrine, and she said Rafe is on his way to Houston as we speak. Sebastien had to work late tonight, or he would have gone with him.”

  Tommie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, racked with pain and guilt. “God, Paulo must hate me,” she whispered tearfully. “I turned my back on him at a time when he needed me the most.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. This is the same man who just asked you to marry him. And you didn’t turn your back on him. You’d just received a terrible shock. No one can fault you for the way you reacted.”

  But Tommie was inconsolable. “I never should have doubted him, not even for a s
econd.”

  “Well, after this is over, you can spend the rest of your life making it up to him. Not that he’d expect you to.”

  “Assuming he still wants to be with me,” Tommie mumbled gloomily.

  “Oh, hush. That man loves you, and you know it.”

  Tommie didn’t bother denying it. Because even as hurt and angry as Paulo had been when he’d stormed out on her that afternoon, he’d still been concerned for her safety. Concerned enough that he’d left the pistol with her, and had asked his friend Cesar to periodically drive by the building to make sure nothing was amiss.

  “I think I should go over there, just to make sure he’s all right,” Tommie said suddenly.

  “You can try,” Frankie said dubiously, “but everyone’s already been to his apartment, and he’s not home.”

  “Maybe he’s just—” Tommie broke off at the loud rapping on the main door downstairs.

  Jumping up from the sofa, she rushed to the window and peered out into the night. Her pulse leaped at the sight of a dark Crown Victoria parked beside her car, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought it was Paulo. Until she remembered that she’d left a message for his partner, Julius Donovan, asking him to call her with an update on Paulo.

  “I have to go, Frankie,” Tommie told her sister. “Detective Donovan’s here.”

  “Okay, but call me the second he leaves. I want to know what the hell’s going on.”

  “Okay. I will.” Tommie disconnected, tossed the cell phone onto the sofa, and raced out of the loft. She flew down the stairs and hurriedly opened the door.

  When Julius Donovan’s dark eyes widened in surprise, she realized that she must look a sight with tangled hair, swollen, bloodshot eyes, and a reddened nose.

  “Thanks for coming over,” she murmured, gesturing him inside. “I know you’re very busy.”

  “It’s no problem.” As he stepped past her, his concerned gaze swept across her face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” Tommie said ruefully, closing the door and passing a hand over her disheveled hair. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “I know.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers, Donovan pushed out a long, deep breath and shook his head at her. “If it’s any consolation to you, he doesn’t look too good, either.”

  “You’ve seen him?” Tommie asked hopefully.

  Donovan nodded. “About an hour ago. I met him somewhere to give him an update on a few leads he’d asked me to follow up on.” He grimaced. “He’s been removed from the case and placed on leave pending an internal investigation.”

  “Oh no,” Tommie whispered, stricken.

  “I know,” Donovan said, scowling. “It’s not fair. Sanchez is a damned good cop, the best I’ve ever worked with. He deserves to be given the benefit of the doubt. I don’t care what some deacon says about him being corrupt.”

  Tommie frowned, staring up at him. “What deacon?”

  Donovan looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his bald head. “I guess you haven’t heard about that.”

  “No, I haven’t. What happened?”

  “Seems that Sanchez assaulted a deacon outside a church on Saturday afternoon, damn near knocked him out cold. The man had to be taken to the ER.”

  Tommie felt light-headed. “Oh God.”

  Donovan let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’m sure that’s who the deacon was praying to all the way to the hospital.”

  Tommie shook her head, rubbed her pounding temple. Something else Paulo had lied to her about, damn him.

  “How much trouble is he in, Detective Donovan?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  Donovan sighed. “It doesn’t look good,” he admitted. “Having his fingerprint found at a crime scene was damaging enough. That stuff surfacing from his past certainly didn’t help. Right now, the assault charges against him are the least of his problems.”

  Tommie’s heart sank as a fresh sheen of tears blurred her vision. She kept hoping that this was all just a bad dream, that at any moment she would awaken in Paulo’s arms, blissfully content and looking forward to the future.

  Belatedly remembering her manners, she said, “I’m sorry. Would you like something to drink, Detective Donovan?”

  “Sure. And remember I told you to call me Julius.”

  Tommie managed a wan smile. “All right.”

  As they started toward the stairwell, his cell phone rang. He dug it out of his coat pocket, frowned at the caller ID, then muttered apologetically, “I have to take this call in private. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Use the studio. I’ll wait out here for you.”

  As he disappeared down the hallway, a fist suddenly hammered against the front door. Thinking it was Paulo—hoping it was Paulo—Tommie hastily unlocked the door and threw it open.

  Too late, she realized her mistake.

  Roland barged inside, looking so grotesque that for a stunned moment she didn’t recognize him. His left eye was swollen shut, the skin around it blackened and badly bruised. A line of stitches marched down one side of his cheek and crawled over his discolored lower lip.

  Tommie didn’t know what alarmed her more—his hideous appearance or the look of wild, lethal rage on his face.

  “Roland—”

  “You fucking bitch!” he roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he charged her. “You think you can get away with siccing that crazy motherfucker on me?”

  “You need to calm down,” Tommie said, backing away from him.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down! Did you tell him to calm down?”

  She cried out as he viciously grabbed her arms and shook her like a rag doll, shouting in her face, “I should have killed you a long time ago! You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side since I met you!”

  Tommie struggled to wrench herself free, but he had a maniacal grip on her. Shaking with fear, but fortified with anger, she looked him in the eye and spat in his face. “Go to hell.”

  With an outraged scream, Roland reared back his arm to strike her. Tommie closed her eyes, instinctively bracing herself for the blow.

  The sudden blast of a gunshot made her cry out.

  Roland jerked against her, his eye bulging in shock as he staggered forward. Tommie gasped at the sight of bright crimson blood blooming across his chest. He looked at her, his face contorted with pain and confusion. A moment later he pitched to the floor with a dull thud.

  Tommie lifted her head and stared, openmouthed, as Julius Donovan calmly holstered his gun and strode across the foyer. He knelt beside Roland’s body and pressed a finger to his carotid artery, checking for a pulse. Slowly he shook his head.

  “You killed him,” Tommie whispered shakily.

  “I couldn’t let him kill you,” the detective murmured.

  Tommie swallowed, her heart thumping. “It’s going to be okay. I—I’ll tell them it was self-defense. Y-you were just protecting me.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Donovan raised his head and looked straight at her. The hatred in his eyes seemed to glow red in his dark face. “I couldn’t let him kill you because I’m going to.”

  Chapter 25

  Tommie quaked with fear as she faced Julius Donovan, the horrifying ramifications of what he’d just told her sinking in. “You…you killed those women?” she whispered faintly. “You’re behind all of this?”

  Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet. Tall, dressed entirely in black, he loomed over her like a demon shadow.

  Ice congealed in her veins. She shook her head, staring into his cruel dark eyes. “H-how can you do this? You’re a cop.”

  A slow, predatory smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Ah, but I only became one because of you.”

  Her pulse thudded. “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, you will.” Stepping over Roland’s body, he came toward her. “Before the night is over, Tommie, you will understand everything I did. All for you.”

  Panic gripped her.

/>   Propelled into motion, she spun around and ran for the stairs. She heard him behind her, lightning-fast footsteps that quickly closed in on her. She screamed, pain ricocheting through her body as he seized a handful of her hair and yanked her backward. She struggled desperately, kicking and flailing against him until she saw something flash in his hand. Instantly she went still, realizing with horror that it was a knife, the long, deadly blade glinting in the light as he brought it to her throat.

  “No,” she whimpered pleadingly, tears spurting from her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. “Please don’t—” she cried out as he tightened his brutal grip on her hair, wrenching her head back.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, making her skin crawl as he brushed his lips across her neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Tommie. Can’t you tell?”

  She shuddered with revulsion, feeling his erection against her backside. Her heart pounded against her sternum as he traced the cool tip of the blade across her throat, down to the hollow where her pulse beat frantically.

  “They both screamed and begged for their lives,” he murmured in her ear. “Will you do the same, Tommie? Will you scream and beg the way you do when you’re fucking Sanchez like a bitch in heat?”

  Tommie swallowed, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe as she watched the knife trail lower, coming to rest at a spot between her breasts. She suppressed a shudder as he let go of her hair and reached around to fondle a breast.

  “You think I didn’t see you?” he taunted softly, his voice razoring along her jagged nerve endings. “You think I didn’t watch you spreading your legs for him, riding him, sucking his filthy dick? You think I didn’t watch you whoring yourself for him? Right before you moved into this building, I broke in and installed hidden cameras all over the place. I saw everything.”

  Tommie closed her eyes, a roiling nausea crawling up her throat at the extent of his depravity, at the terrible sense of violation she felt. He’d been spying on her for months.

  “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted,” he told her, nuzzling her nape. “The others were merely a means to an end, a way to get your attention. A dress rehearsal, if you will.”