One Touch More (19 page)

She reached inside the drawer beside the bed and shook four of the little brown pills from a bottle. “These aren't super powerful, but it's the equivalent of the eight hundred milligram tabs you'd get at the hospital.” Damien held out his hand and she placed the pills in his palm. “Let me go get you a glass of water.”

“No need.” He didn't want to give her any reason to leave his side. He placed the pills on the back of his tongue and swallowed them down.

“You're not supposed to dry-swallow pills, Damien.” God, that chiding tone made him hot. “It's bad for you.”

“Worse than gunshot wounds?”

“Not funny.”

“Get naked.” If he didn't see her body in the next thirty seconds, he was going to put those scissors of hers to good use and cut her clothes off of her.

Her scandalized expression was a contradiction to the blush that colored her cheeks and the deep blue of her warm gaze. “Just like that, huh?”

“Yep. Get naked and get in bed with me. Now.”

Her answering smile reminded him of moonlight, soft with a glow that illuminated her features. Damien sucked in a breath and held it in his chest as she toed off her boots and socks, her gaze locked on his. She unfastened her pants and shimmied out of them, discarding them beside her. “More?”

The way she teased him . . . The pain in his leg was nothing compared to the deep thrum of his cock as it began to grow harder with every inch of skin she exposed. “More.” The word came out as a harsh bark, raw as it scratched his throat. “Your shirt.”

It came off in a flash, drifting to the floor in a cloud of black fabric. Damien devoured her with his eyes, taking in the creamy flesh and soft curves barely concealed by a few triangles of lace. Her underwear was almost too tiny to be worthy of the word, and the bra—a pushup number that enhanced the natural swell of her breasts—was enough to make his mouth water. “Turn around.”

She obliged him, turning to show off the thong back of her underwear, revealing the sweet bare curves of her ass for him to admire. “Now the bra.” The thong was staying put for now, but he didn't want anything to hamper the sight of her breasts. She kept her back turned to him as she slowly unhooked the clasp and dragged the straps down and off her arms. In a dramatic whisper, the garment fell to the floor. “Let me see you.”

There should have been a statue erected somewhere in honor of Tabitha Martin's breasts. It didn't matter that he'd seen them before, held their weight in his palms more than once. The sight of her tortured him, teased and tantalized. He could make a meal of her body, licking, sucking, tasting every inch of her. Sinking his teeth into the supple flesh of her ass. He'd never actually wanted to bite a woman before, but he wanted to bite her. Not hard, just enough to make her moan.

One knee bent, curving inward as though she wasn't quite sure what to do with her body. She fiddled with the lacy waistband of her thong and Damien swallowed down a groan as he partook of the visual feast she presented. “If you keep touching yourself like that, I'm going to tear these stitches out in my rush to get to you.”

A lazy smile stretched across her face. Sweet and seductive. “You promised me you'd be a good patient. Ripping my expert stitches would hardly be classified as good behavior.”

“I can be good. Let me show you.” She'd demonstrated in the past that she liked for him to take control and dominate her. This was a game he'd enjoy. He'd instruct her, watch from the bed as she touched herself and teased him with the sight of her body. And then, when they were both so mindless with desire that neither one of them could give a shit about his stitches, he'd take her. After the night he'd had, Damien wasn't sure he could keep his own desire in check for much longer. He needed a release. But he refused to push her if she was at all unsure.

Rather than answer, she climbed into bed next to him, nestling into the curve of his arm. “You are hereby grounded from anything that will cause you to tear those sutures. And if you think I'm kidding, I've got nine-one-one on speed dial.”

“You'd rat me out to the paramedics?” he asked with a smile.

She answered with a wicked grin. “Absolutely.”

Chapter Twenty

Was it possible to die from unspent sexual energy?

As Tabitha lay beside Damien, his body overwhelming hers with its sheer size, she wondered if she'd make it through the night. Her body pulsed with need, blood heated to the point that she felt the flush on every inch of her skin. He was hard and ready—a bullet to the thigh hadn't even slowed him down—and let her know in no uncertain terms that he wanted her.

Still, despite his cocky bravado, a gunshot wound was no laughing matter. And the truth of the situation was, the sutures she'd done were not the best. In fact, she'd never stitched anyone up before. That was a job best left to the MDs. She had no business tending to his wounds, and she'd meant what she said. If he stepped even a toe out of line, Damien was going to the ER.

“This is such a wasted opportunity.” His lamented words were laced with humor, and Tabitha smiled against his chest.

“Will it help if I promise to bring you breakfast in bed?”

He traced an idle pattern on her arm with his fingertips. Up, down. Up, down. Tabitha shivered from the pleasant contact that relaxed her body from head to toe. “The only thing that can possibly make it up to me is bacon. A pile of bacon. A
mountain
of bacon. I will need to consume the Mount Everest of bacon if I can't make love to you tonight.”

Tabitha's stomach twisted into a pretzel. Make love? Her bones went soft and liquid and she couldn't have moved a muscle if she'd tried. The words were so tender. So
honest
. Damien was an enigma. A contradiction to his very nature. Again, she thought of his duality, the face he showed to her in private moments like these and the fierce, violent criminal who'd nearly beaten Tony to death earlier tonight.

“I can probably manage some bacon. You might have to settle for a Boise foothills-sized plate, but I'll make it worth your while.”

“Mmm.” His chest rumbled with the sound. “Bacon.”

He wrapped her in his embrace and pulled the covers up higher, tucking them around her. “I know I sound like a broken record, but are you sure you're okay? That fucker didn't do anything to you?”

Tabitha shuddered. “No. He was drunk and high. He roughed me up a little, shoved me. Forced me to drink some
nasty
tequila. But you showed up before anything happened. I owe you one. Really. Thank you.”

“It's my goddamned fault,” he all but growled. “I should have called you, told you I wasn't going to be there.”

“You couldn't have known I'd show up.”

“Still.”

“Shush,” Tabitha said with a playful swat to his abs. Good Lord, the man was
marble
. “And I'm sorry that Seth was acting like a dick tonight. That was my fault, too. I egged him on.”

“What's his story?”

Tabitha rolled fully on her side, enjoying the heat of Damien's naked skin on hers. She laid the flat of her palm against the hard planes of his stomach, marveling at the tight ridges of muscle. “Seth's had some problems, but he's really a good guy. He had a rough childhood, that's all. We both did. We weren't exactly taught good decision-making skills. Or responsibility.”

“So, what? He's a troublemaker?” Damien tilted her face up to his. His gaze searched hers, his expression tense. “If you don't watch out, you're going to hit your quota for hard luck cases this month.”

“Try this lifetime.”

A comfortable silence settled. Damien's touch was reassuring, the gentle stroke of his fingers coaxing delicious chills to the surface of Tabitha's skin. She'd never talked much about her family with anyone other than Lila and Dave. And really, she'd barely broken the surface with the things she'd told them. In the quiet darkness of her bedroom, she wanted to lay herself bare to Damien. Wanted him to know everything about her. Trust was hard for her, but she wanted him to trust her, and in turn she wanted to put her trust in him.

“Seth and I . . .” God, the words were like broken glass in her mouth. “I told you that our dad was a user. And a dealer. He was an alcoholic and he was high more often than he wasn't. Our mom popped pills like they were Tic Tacs. Seth and I grew up in a really unhealthy environment.”

Damien stiffened beside her and Tabitha's pulse jumped. The reason why she rarely talked about her childhood was that she usually got two reactions from people: revulsion or pity.

“That must have been rough for you guys.” His voice didn't carry any hint of pity or disdain. Instead, Damien held her closer, anchoring her to his strength.

“It was.” Tabitha felt a fissure grow in the emotional dam she'd constructed. The tightness that was ever present in her chest began to loosen by small degrees. She'd always had a feeling that Damien didn't want to be a part of this world, either. Maybe what she'd needed all along was a kindred spirit to listen. “I mean, why is it so hard for some people to take care of their kids? If we wanted to eat, I had to cook. And honestly, there was rarely any food in the house. We wore dirty clothes a lot. We got teased when we were kids because we always looked ratty, we never had school supplies, and our mom couldn't even get her shit together to apply for supplemental lunch assistance. I lived every day of my life embarrassed. Couldn't wait to graduate so I could get the hell out of there.”

“Social services didn't intervene?” In the dark, his voice was all-encompassing. Surrounding her, protecting her. “I mean, didn't the school district employees notice how bad off you were?”

She shrugged against him. “Health and Welfare came over once. A social worker did a home inspection and gave my parents a warning. Gave them a list of things that had to be fixed and improved in the house. My parents were good for about two weeks. Cleaned the house, filled the fridge with food, kept their nasty friends away. Then, when the smoke cleared, they just fell right back into their old patterns.”

“Damn. That fucking sucks.”

Tabitha gave a sad laugh. “Tell me about it. The thing is, I could've gotten over it. I could have forgiven them and just moved on with my life. But my dad had this friend. He was a total piece of shit. I feel like he had a lot to do with keeping my parents in the life and he was a really bad influence on Seth, too. He's the reason Seth was always getting into trouble. I thought things would get better when he moved out of town. But turns out Gerald was using Seth as a mule—transporting product from Seattle through Oregon and Idaho—and I didn't even know it.”

Damien's fingers constricted, squeezing her arms. “This Gerald have a last name?”

Tabitha smiled into the darkness. “Why, you gonna go beat him up, too?”

“Maybe.”

There was a tension in his voice that hadn't been there before. “Lightfoot. Gerald Lightfoot. I made it a point to stay as far away from my parents' bullshit as possible. But he was always around, treating Seth and I like we were his own kids. My parents even wanted us to call him Uncle Gerald. It was ridiculous. When I found out he was using Seth—probably because he was seventeen and still a minor—I went off. I left an anonymous tip with the Boise narcotics guys, and ratted my parents out. They didn't get Gerald, but both my mom and dad were arrested for possession with intent to distribute. I thought it would change things and Seth would get better, but it didn't. I found out about a year ago that he'd introduced Joey to Gerald. That's how Joey got me to hook him up with the hotel rooms for him to deal from. He said that if I didn't help him, he'd do the same thing I'd done to my parents and let the cops know that Seth had been slinging. He promised to make sure there'd be plenty of evidence, too.”

The silence that followed her confession choked the air from Tabitha's lungs. She'd just admitted to being a narc, and the one thing she'd learned growing up is that the lowest life form in the urban jungle was the rat. What did Damien think of her admission? Probably trying to figure out how quickly he could get the hell out of there before he wound up in police custody, as well.

“I've never told anyone the whole story before,” she added. “Joey made a lucky guess and that's the only reason he knows. I couldn't tell Seth that I'm the one who turned in our parents. I'm too afraid to tell him. He'd hate me for it.”

Damien's steady breath was the only sound in the room. Panic rushed hot in her veins. She shouldn't have said anything. Damn it, she should have kept her big mouth shut. Now it was too late to take the words back and she'd have to live with the consequences. For all she knew, Damien and Joey had gotten pretty tight over the past few weeks. And if he went to Joey with this story, Seth was as good as screwed. He'd set her brother up and hand him over to the narcotics task force on principle. Just to teach Tabitha a lesson. “Damien?” Oh God.
You really fucked up this time, Tabs
.

 

 

Damien's jaw was clenched to the point that his molars had begun to grind. Until he could get his anger under control, all he'd be able to manage was a few deep growls, and he didn't think that would do much to assuage Tabitha's fear.
Jesus fucking Christ
. If he wasn't laid up, he'd be halfway across town right now, beating the ever living shit out of Joey Cavello. All this time the Marshals Service had been trying to get their hands on Gerald Lightfoot. And Tabitha's clueless troublemaker brother—not Cavello—was the key to finding him.

“You did the right thing.” The fear, the doubt in her voice made him feel as though he'd been shot again. That tremor of uncertainty ripped through his heart like a high velocity round. “Really, you should have turned them in a hell of a lot sooner.”

“You don't think I'm a snitch?”

One of the things Damien hated about gang and drug culture was the cultlike nature of the “extended family” model. All disputes and issues were expected to be handled within the family. Bringing in outside authorities—especially social services or law enforcement—was a huge taboo. And those who did were treated like the lowest traitors.

“I think you're brave.”

Tabitha let out a derisive snort. “I bet my folks would disagree with you on that one since they've still each got at least another year on their sentences.”

Damien held her close. “They might share your gene pool, Tabitha, but those people weren't parents in any sense of the word.”

“I felt guilty about it for a long time. I was only nineteen. But I'd had it. I couldn't deal with their drama or the fact that Seth was becoming too used to the lifestyle. I wanted him
out
.”

“How does Seth feel about all of this? I know he's your brother and you feel obligated to take care of him. Does he want out as much as you want him out?”

“I think so.” Her voice reached out in the darkness, sad and unsure. “He's been so good the past several months. He even got a legit job. His boss gave him an advance to buy some work boots and you should have seen him, Damien. He was beaming. Okay, so he did spend some of the money on a pizza, but for Seth this is a huge stride.”

Damien wondered if Seth was truly as excited about his life on the straight and narrow as Tabitha thought. A lot of the time, family members of suspects lived in denial, emphatic to the very end in their belief that their loved one was innocent. Damien had been on the receiving end of a mother's wrath a time or ten in the course of making an arrest. But one of the things he loved about Tabitha was that she chose to see the good in everyone. There wasn't a soul who didn't first get the benefit of the doubt.

“Then for your sake, I hope he keeps his nose clean.” Damien sought out her face in the dark, cupped her cheek as he brought her face toward his. “Because you deserve for someone
not
to let you down for a change.”

He kissed her gently. For the first time since they'd met, Damien took his time to truly enjoy her. His raw need had been a physical thing, all-consuming, but now it was emotional as well. Under her tough façade, the combat boots, nose piercing, edgy haircut and sharp tongue, was a gentle, fragile soul with more love to give than Damien thought possible. She was a warm fire on a cold night. A tall, leafy tree in the storm. The levy that kept floodwater at bay.

Being with her made clear the lines that Damien had blurred over the years. Made him want to recall the man that he was beneath the fabricated covers, the conjured backstories. She washed the guilt of things he'd done and seen from his spirit, as though absolving him of sin. She deserved so much more than what life had given her. So much more.

“No one will ever use you again.” The words were a vow spoken in the sanctity of darkness. He kissed her again and she sighed into his mouth, merging their breaths into one. “No one will exploit you. Abuse you. Disrespect you. I promise, Tabitha. I'll die before I let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep.” Her whispered words carried with them the weight of sadness Damien knew far too well. “You never know, you might be the one to hurt me. I might hurt you. People aren't perfect, so it makes no sense to promise that we will be.”

It would be a lie to deny it. Tabitha had put her trust in Damien, a man that she assumed knew firsthand the world she'd grown up in. Without her even realizing it, he'd hurt her. Betrayed her. Let her make confessions she'd never made to another soul but not to the man she thought he was. She may as well have turned her parents in all over again.

Because Damien had no choice but to go to the chief deputy and Boise PD with the information she'd shared. Arresting Gerald Lightfoot was the fugitive task force's number one priority. And Tabitha had given them a means to wrap this case up once and for all.