No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  As Althea sat down, Damien started from the room, saying, “I have phone calls to return.”

  Althea watched him go, admiring his lithe, powerful strides. At the door he paused and looked back, his dark eyes capturing hers. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Althea swallowed. “Looks that way.”

  Moments after he left the office, her body still tingled with awareness. Her overwhelming attraction to Damien Wade was the absolute last thing she needed or wanted, especially now, when she was trying to reclaim her life and establish herself at a new field office. She cursed the stroke of fate that had allowed her to single him out and take him home for the first and only one-night stand she’d ever had.

  “Althea?”

  Too late, Althea realized she’d been staring at the door in the wake of Damien’s departure. Turning around quickly, she found Eddie watching her with an amused, speculative gleam in his eyes. A slow flush crawled up her neck.

  “Sorry.” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip. “Has he . . . How long has Damien been with the Bureau?”

  “Almost seven years. He joined against Garrison’s wishes, and has since proven to be one hell of an agent, one of the best I’ve ever worked with.” His lips curved. “It’s in their blood. Their father was a cop, and from what I hear, a damn good one.”

  Althea nodded. She seemed to remember Garrison once mentioning that his father had been a police officer. Funny how she remembered that, yet somehow she’d forgotten him telling her that his younger brother was an FBI agent.

  Giving herself a mental shake, Althea turned her attention to the matter that had brought her to her boss’s office in the first place. “I heard about the Thorndike kidnapping on the radio this morning,” she began.

  Eddie nodded, his expression grim. “Hell of a thing.”

  “Yes, it is.” Althea hesitated, then sat forward in her chair. “I’d like to work with Baltimore PD on this case.”

  “No.” His refusal was swift, unequivocal. As if he’d already anticipated the request.

  Althea frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve already assigned an agent to work with the BPD.”

  Her heart sank. She’d gotten there too late. “Who did you assign?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Eddie said firmly. “The point is, it won’t be you. Look, Althea, you just arrived here. I know your squad supervisor has plenty of other cases you can sink your teeth into.”

  “I want to sink my teeth into this one.”

  Eddie shook his head, his thick black hair gleaming under the recessed lighting. “No can do. I’ve already got someone on it, and you know how territorial the local boys get when we send too many of our own. They think we’re trying to take over.”

  Althea couldn’t argue with that, so she tried a different tack. “Just let me tag along. I’ve never worked one of these cases before. I know I could learn a lot from—”

  “Sorry, kiddo. It’s not gonna happen.”

  And suddenly she understood why.

  Her eyes narrowed on his face. “You’re trying to protect me. You think that my involvement in the kidnapping case will bring back too many bad memories.”

  He just looked at her, neither confirming nor denying her accusation.

  Althea took a long, deep breath and said in a carefully measured voice, “With all due respect, sir, I didn’t join the FBI to be coddled or handled with kid gloves. I joined the FBI to catch criminals, to make a difference.”

  “I know that,” Eddie said just as evenly, leaning back in his chair. On the bookcase behind him were photos of his gorgeous wife Annabella and their two small children. “I’ve always supported your decision to join the Bureau, Althea, and I have no intention of preventing you from doing your job—especially since I’ve heard nothing but great things about you and your work ethic. But the Thorndike case is being handled by another agent, and you’re just gonna have to accept that.”

  Althea stared at him, struck by a new realization. “Oh my God. You’re worried that this might be a copycat. You’re worried that this case might have something to do with what happened to me eight years ago.”

  A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You’re thinking it.”

  Eddie hesitated. “The thought crossed my mind, yes,” he reluctantly admitted. “But that doesn’t mean anything. The reality is that hundreds of kids are abducted every year. We have no concrete reason to assume that Claire Thorndike’s abduction has anything to do with what happened to you.”

  “Even though the timing is suspicious,” Althea said quietly. “Yesterday—Sunday—would have been exactly eight years to the day I was kidnapped.”

  When Eddie said nothing, she asked, “Do the police know when Claire was taken from her house?”

  “They believe it was sometime on Friday evening. When Spencer Thorndike and his wife returned home from their trip yesterday, Claire’s alarm clock was going off. She’d set it for six A.M. on Saturday because she had to attend a program at Johns Hopkins at eight o’clock.”

  “What kind of program?”

  A long pause. “It was an informational session. For high-school seniors interested in a premed summer internship.”

  Althea felt the air escape from her lungs, soft and shaky. A whisper of foreboding snaked down her spine.

  She had been a premed major in college.

  Watching her carefully, Eddie said, “It could be purely coincidental.”

  “If you really believed that,” Althea said softly, “you wouldn’t be trying your damnedest to keep me off the case.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, then glanced away with a muffled curse. “There was a small piece in one of the local newspapers about a week ago. I don’t know how it got leaked that you were being reassigned to Baltimore, but it did. That means any crackpot out there who read the article could be behind this thing. If I let anything happen to you, your uncle will nail my ass to the wall. I’ve never been one to back down from a fight, but a powerful U.S. senator who may be president one of these days isn’t someone I care to have as an enemy.”

  “So you’re going to let my uncle dictate the type of investigations I handle?” Althea demanded in outraged disbelief.

  Eddie scowled. “That’s not what I said.”

  “But that’s what you’re implying!” she shot back. “If my uncle thinks a case might be too dangerous for me, then it’s off-limits. Is that how it’s going to work around here?”

  “Damn it, Pritchard! If there’s some psycho out there reenacting your abduction, I don’t want to play right into his hands by putting you on this case. I don’t want to use you as bait for whatever sick game he might be playing!”

  Althea met his gaze unflinchingly. “If Claire Thorndike’s disappearance has anything to do with my abduction,” she said levelly, “we both know the perp is going to involve me whether I’m investigating the case or not. Rather than sitting around on my hands waiting for him to make a move, I’d rather be doing whatever I can to help catch the son of a bitch.”

  Eddie’s mouth thinned to a grim line. Averting his gaze, he reached for a pen and began tapping it furiously against a stack of files on his desk, torn between his desire to protect her and his sworn obligation to treat her the same as any other agent.

  Althea waited, her breath shallow in her lungs.

  The noise of ringing phones, the buzz of conversation interspersed with occasional laughter, and clicking keyboards could be heard from the maze of cubicles and desks outside the office.

  After what seemed an eternity, Eddie looked at Althea. “Just as your uncle did when you were kidnapped, Spencer Thorndike has already gone straight to the top of the food chain to request the Bureau’s assistance in locating his daughter. Director Grayson himself called me first thing this morning. He wanted to emphasize the importance of working cooperatively with the local police department, but he also wanted us to put in some extra face
time with Thorndike. Let him know that we’re as committed to finding Claire as we were to finding you eight years ago.”

  Althea nodded her understanding. Spencer Thorndike was a wealthy, powerful man who would think nothing of crying foul if his daughter’s abduction did not warrant the same level of urgency that Althea’s had. He’d have no qualms about going to the media with claims that Senator Louis Pritchard had a pattern of using his political connections to obtain special favors from the FBI. While the Bureau—and her uncle, for that matter—had survived worse accusations, the director liked to avoid the appearance of impropriety whenever possible.

  “I’m sending Damien to interview the Thorndikes after the press conference this afternoon,” Eddie said decisively. “You can accompany him.”

  Althea was so relieved by his decision that it took a delayed moment for the rest of his words to register. “Damien? You’ve assigned Damien Wade to be the case agent?”

  “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “N-No. Not at all.” Liar.

  “Good. Damien can bring you up to speed on everything you need to know.” Eddie pinned her with a stern look. “I expect you to support Damien in this investigation, not try to take over. I expect you to give him your full cooperation and defer to his judgment as the senior agent on this case. If I hear that you’re being a troublemaker or taking unnecessary risks, I’m yanking you. Are we clear on that?”

  “Absolutely, sir. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

  When the phone on his desk rang, Althea got up and broke for the door before he could change his mind.

  “Althea?”

  She turned in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”

  Eddie’s expression was somber. “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

  The unspoken words hung in the air between them, a silent plea from one friend to another: Don’t get yourself killed.

  “I won’t,” Althea said quietly.

  Eddie held her gaze for another moment, then reached for the phone, dismissing her.

  Althea left the office, her mind already on finding Claire Thorndike and bringing her home safely.

  No matter what it takes, she silently vowed.

  Chapter 7

  When Althea Pritchard was kidnapped eight years ago, the story captured national headlines and fueled a media feeding frenzy. Damien, who was a senior in college at the time, had been too wrapped up in his own life and his own problems to follow the abduction case as religiously as others had. After taking an unplanned three-year hiatus from college to work full-time and take care of Angelique and India, he’d gone back to school. He knew that getting a degree was the best way for him to maximize his earning potential, which was absolutely critical if he wanted to continue supporting his family. The challenge of juggling a full course load, a part-time job, an internship, and the demands of raising an active toddler whose mother could seldom be found proved to be more difficult than anything Damien had ever experienced in his life. On most days he hadn’t known whether he was coming or going.

  So when a girl named Althea Pritchard went missing, he could do little more than pray for her safe return and hold his own daughter close to his heart before tucking her into bed every night.

  Never in a million years could he have imagined the twist of fate that would not only bring Althea Pritchard into his life but pair them together on a kidnapping case that bore many similarities to her own abduction.

  One too many similarities, as far as he was concerned.

  That morning as he drove to Spencer Thorndike’s northwestern Baltimore home, Damien couldn’t decide what bothered him more: Althea’s involvement in a case that might prove to be too much for her to handle or the fact that he’d been forced to work alongside her, a woman who was only supposed to be a one-night stand.

  Judging by the tension radiating from Althea, who sat ramrod straight and silent beside him in the black SUV, she wasn’t terribly thrilled about the situation either.

  As he weaved in and out of downtown traffic with practiced ease, he stole surreptitious glances at her. In a navy blue designer pantsuit with her black hair swept back into an elegant bun, she looked cool, composed, and professional. Too cool. Too composed. Too professional. Looking at her, Damien found it hard to reconcile the aloof, buttoned-down stranger she’d morphed into with the seductive femme fatale who’d approached him at the nightclub, then invited him back to her apartment for a night of intense, no-holds-barred sex. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. Couldn’t stop fantasizing about her, dreaming about her. Wanting her. He was half tempted to turn to Althea and demand to know what she’d done with the woman he met on Friday night.

  “The light is green.”

  Damien didn’t realize he had been staring at her until she spoke, breaking into his thoughts. He tore his gaze from her and pulled off just as the car behind him honked. Damien scowled into the rearview mirror as if the other driver could see him.

  Althea made a small coughing noise behind her hand, and when Damien glanced at her, he realized she was trying very hard not to laugh.

  He felt his own lips twitching. “What’s so funny?”

  She shook her head, those sultry dark eyes glittering with mirth. “Has anyone ever told you that you drive like you’re the only one on the road?” Even as the question left her mouth, Damien suddenly swerved around a vehicle that was testing his patience by moving too slow.

  He threw Althea a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

  She gave her head another shake. “I hope the Bureau took out extra auto insurance on you,” she said dryly.

  Damien chuckled. “What can I say? I grew up in the city—I learned how to drive on these crazy streets.” He shot her a teasing sideways glance. “Not that I would expect a suburban princess to know anything about that.”

  Althea choked out a laugh. “Hey! Who’re you calling a suburban princess?”

  Damien grinned. “There are only two of us in this vehicle, and I sure as hell wasn’t talking about myself. Besides,” he drawled, “I don’t recall hearing any complaints about my driving skills when we were rushing to get to your apartment on Friday night.”

  To his delight, Althea actually blushed. “That was a low blow,” she grumbled, averting her gaze to the window.

  “Sorry. I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

  “And what opportunity would that be?”

  “The opportunity to bring up the elephant in the room we’ve both been avoiding.”

  He felt, rather than saw, Althea stiffen. She did not turn from the window.

  Undeterred, he continued, “I think it goes without saying that neither of us expected to see each other again after Friday night. I know you were as shocked as I was when we ran into each other this morning.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Althea muttered darkly. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

  Damien suppressed a smile. When he’d opened his boss’s door that morning and saw Althea standing there, he’d known by his body’s primal reaction to her that he wasn’t hallucinating.

  “We never actually got around to talking about our jobs that night,” he said.

  “Or our last names,” she added.

  “Yeah. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the point is that I understand how awkward this must be for you, being new to the Baltimore field office. I want you to know that what happened between us will stay between us. I have no intention of telling Balducci, or anyone else, that you and I slept together. You have my word.”

  After a prolonged moment, Althea turned her head and looked at him. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that.”

  He nodded.

  Suddenly she frowned. “Oh no. I just thought about something. What about your friends—the ones who were at the club that night? I don’t suppose there’s any chance they don’t work for the Bureau?”

  Damien grimaced. “There were only two who didn’t,” he admitted.

/>   Althea groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m ruined.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am. Sooner or later I’m going to run into those guys, and they’re going to take one look at me and recognize me as the ho you went home with that night.”

  Damien scowled. “First of all, if anyone calls you a ‘ho,’ I’m kicking their ass up and down the damn street. Second of all, the fellas aren’t gonna gossip about you, ’cause they’d be putting my business out there as well, and they know I don’t play that. The only one who’s on our squad is Marshall Blake, and he’s on vacation this week. As soon as he gets back I’ll give him a call, make sure he knows what’s what.” His tone gentled. “Don’t worry. What happened between us is nobody’s business but ours, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

  Althea gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.” She hesitated, biting her lush bottom lip, looking like she wanted to say more. Finally she did. “I don’t make a habit of, ah, picking up strangers at nightclubs, or anywhere else for that matter. You were the first man I’ve ever been so, ah, reckless with.”

  Damien sent her a long look. “I had an incredible time with you.”

  She held his gaze. “It was absolutely amazing.”

  His body stirred. The blood heated in his veins.

  “That said,” Althea murmured, “it can never happen again.”

  “I know.” His mind knew, but his body was an entirely different matter. “I have a rule against mixing business with pleasure.”

  She looked relieved. “So do I.”

  Damien inclined his head. “Then we’re going to get along just fine, Special Agent Pritchard.”

  Spencer Thorndike’s residence was a sprawling sixty-acre estate just on the outskirts of Mount Washington, an exclusive white enclave known for its quaint New England setting, stately mansions, manicured parks, and top-performing schools. The Thorndike mansion was a stone and glass Tudor perched high on a hill and guarded by a tall iron fence. The property boasted a natural lake, well-tended gardens, equestrian facilities, and miles of scenic riding trails.