One Touch More (2 page)

“Hey, sugar-booger. Did you miss me today?” Lila was like the Energizer Bunny. “Get your ass over here and let's go out. I heard there's a new DJ over at Liquid. Let's go get our dance on!”

Her enthusiasm was admirable, but just the thought of going out exhausted Tabitha. “Can't. I've got a ton of homework and I need to study for my medical terminology final.”

Lila blew raspberries into the receiver. “Lame. I can't go out without a winglady, Tabs. For once, can you just ditch responsibility and cut loose? You're twenty-three years old. Stop acting like you're an old lady.”

“Dude. I'd love to ditch responsibility for a while. As for being an old lady, I'm going to remember you said that when your birthday rolls around.” Lila was coming up on twenty-five—closer to ninety than Tabitha was—and still partied like she was sixteen. Of course, when your dad owned a chain of car dealerships, you could afford to be an immature slacker.

“
Ta-habs
. . .” Lila whined. “
Puh-leaze
go out with me. It's two-for-one shots.”

Well, at least Lila had her priorities straight. Two-for-one shots? Who could resist? “Sorry, Lila, but I don't want to be hungover for tomorrow's finals.”

“You don't have to be,” she said in a pouty tone. “You can be the DD and cart my drunk ass around.”

“When you put it that way, how can I resist?”

“Come on, you need to let off some steam. You're going to blow if you don't.”

True. But running interference while Lila drank her body weight in gin and tonics wasn't the way she wanted to release the valve. “Tomorrow is my last day of classes. I'll blow off steam and whatever else you want on Saturday. And every day for the entire semester break if you want. But tonight, I've got a date with the human body.”

“Boo.”

Tabitha checked her mirror and switched lanes. “Sorry, dude. Take it or leave it.” She steered the car into the turn lane for her apartment complex and put her palm over the phone to keep it from sliding across the dash. “Let me study tonight and I'm all yours on Saturday.”

“Fine.” Lila would pout over not getting her way, but she'd forget all about it by the weekend. “But your ass better be good and ready to go out after your shift. I'll be picking you up at the hotel.”

“Deal.” It's not like Tabitha was interested in battling downtown traffic anyway. “See ya Saturday night.”

“All right, Florence Farthingale, go be responsible and study,” Lila said. “Bye.”

“It's Florence
Nightingale
, Lila.” She laughed. “Bye.”

Tabitha pulled into her covered spot below her unit and stuffed her phone in her purse. She snatched her backpack, containing what felt like a metric ton of books, from the backseat. As she began the arduous climb up the stairs to the second story, a twinge of regret pulled at her chest. She hated that she had to always be the responsible one. What she wouldn't give to be as carefree as Lila, living off of her dad's money and partying her twenties away.

Twenty-three was too young to feel so old.

On the flip side, she had a nice apartment, a job that paid the bills, and she was on her way to a B.S. in nursing. True, it was taking her a little longer than it would most students, but the time frame didn't matter to her as long as she got that degree in the end. She flipped on the light above the kitchen table and spilled her books out on the surface. After she changed into a pair of sweats and brewed a pot of coffee, she settled in for a long night of cramming.

Tabitha was on track to finally getting her life together. The only thing left was to get rid of Joey and his baggage. All she needed to do to make it happen was jeopardize the future of someone she loved.

Chapter Two

As usual, his give-and-take with Dr. Meyers had earned Damien a pat on the head and the privilege of being allowed to resume his undercover work. Unfortunately, if he'd known Bill Crawford—the SOG director for the Pacific Northwest—was going to ship him off to Boise, Idaho, he might have saved himself the trouble and just taken the desk job. As far as assignments went, he reminded himself that it could always be worse.

For the past year the U.S. Marshals Service's Fugitive Task Force had been hunting Gerald Lightfoot, a heavy hitter who'd managed to slip federal custody before they could slap his ass in the nearest super max. A veteran of the drug trade, Lightfoot had a finger in everything from weed to heroin, and word was that he was now operating his syndicate in the States from somewhere in Russia. By using the waterways, he'd been smuggling product down into the port of Seattle and distributing throughout the Pacific Northwest and California. His most recent specialty was a synthetic that went by the street name of Stardust because of its glittery physical properties; and its ability to give the user a quick high was likened to being shot up into space. It had shown up in Idaho a few months back. Sales were quickly gaining traction and had grabbed the attention of the USMS only after several teens had died. The Boise PD had assigned a special task force to stop the flow of Stardust into the city, but they couldn't keep up with the suppliers and dealers. Bastards got craftier every fucking month.

It was a revolving operation, never staying in the same place for more than a month or two. Seattle, Portland, Spokane, and now Boise. The task force figured that they only had a window of about four weeks to nail Lightfoot's contact here before he pulled his product and moved on to the next city. The distributor in Boise was the key to finding Lightfoot, and had become the Fugitive Task Force's number one priority.

Damien had been brought in to work the chain from the bottom up. First, locate the dealers, then hook up with Lightfoot's distributor. With such a tight time frame, he didn't have long to lay the groundwork.

“Hi! Are you checking in tonight?”

Damien looked up at the sound of the chipper voice and his brain went abso-freaking-lutely blank. The woman behind the counter gave him a wide smile as she tucked a section of her short hair behind her ear. Wide blue eyes the color of a deep mountain lake stared back at him, fringed with dark lashes that made the blue that much brighter. He towered over her, yet he sensed in her a confidence that was far larger than her petite frame. And that smile . . . holy shit. It was the sort of expression that skirted flirtatious and made his chest hitch.

“Yeah,” he responded with a smile of his own. “I'm early though, so if you can't check me in yet, it's not a big deal.”

“Oh, I don't think it'll be a problem. Can I get your name?”

“Damien Evans.”

Her voice rippled over him, smooth and sweet as whipped cream. He checked her name tag—Tabitha—and noted that she was also the assistant manager. She might be helpful later down the line, especially if this place did in fact turn out to be one of the hotels that Lightfoot's man was dealing from. Managers spent more time at the hotel than anyone, plus they made it their business to know the regular guests.

“Okay . . .” Tabitha scanned the computer screen and puckered her lips in concentration. Damien found the act entirely too distracting, his gaze locked on the dark pink flesh that looked as soft as flower petals. “Looks like you requested a room on the top floor. Is that still okay?”

“Yep.” A bird's-eye view would help him to notice anything out of the ordinary in the parking lot or street.

“And you also requested a room facing the parking lot?” She cocked a brow and gave him a wry smile. “I have to admit, that's a first.”

He smiled back, couldn't help himself. Damien wasn't exactly a playful guy. Gruff described him to a tee. But he found that he wanted to try, for the first time in what felt like forever, to be a little flirtatious back. “Would you believe me if I told you I was a writer for
Parking Lot Monthly
and this place made my top-ten list for spacious parking spaces?”

Her laughter was infectious and it tingled down Damien's spine in a warm rush. “You know, our guests comment all the time that our parking spaces are extra roomy.”

“It's all in the lot design,” Damien agreed.

“Totally.” Their eyes met and Damien swore the air sizzled between them. “Okay, well, here are your keys.” Tabitha tucked two plastic cards into an envelope and slid them across the counter to him. “And I need to swipe your credit card. You won't be charged until you check out.”

“No problem.” Damien pulled the Visa that he used for undercover operations from his wallet and handed it to her. She swiped the card in the machine and handed it back.

“I have you down for seven days, and if you need to extend or shorten your stay, just let me know.”

“Sounds good.” Damien tucked the card back into his wallet and retrieved the large duffel with his clothes.

“Then you're all set. By the way, I'm Tabitha.” She reached out her hand across the counter. “I'm here most evenings until ten if you need anything.”

He took her hand in his and the contact was electric, sending a jolt of excitement through Damien's bloodstream. Of all the shitty timing . . . After months, he meets a woman that he's attracted to and he's on a goddamned job. “Damien,” he said in return, his voice only a little strained.

“Have a good one, Damien.” Damn, that smile was enough to bring him to his knees. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.”

“I won't. Thanks.”

Was it his imagination that she seemed interested, too? She was definitely throwing off some sort of vibe, but Damien was clueless when it came to women. Maybe this was just Tabitha's usual customer service charm. Still, he had at least a week to test the waters, didn't he? Dr. Meyers said he needed to loosen up a little and try to live some sort of life. This week was as good a time as any for a trial run.

“Hey, um, I was wondering. You wouldn't happen to know what's hot downtown? Bars or clubs.” He didn't want her to think he was on the prowl or anything, but he wanted a local's take on the city's nightlife.

“Scouting out locations for
Parking Lot Monthly
?”

Damien's lips tugged in a reluctant smile. He'd never been funny, but he racked his brain for something—anything—comical to say, if only to make her laugh. That sound was like the sweetest music. A song he could listen to on repeat. “Even nightclubs deserve a chance at the top-ten lists.”

“Totally,” Tabitha agreed with a chuckle. “Parking lots downtown can be tricky. But if you're also including parking garages—”

“Garages are just parking lots on steroids. Bigger and beefier.”

“Exactly!” Damn the sound of her laughter. It had a calming effect on him that none of the drugs Dr. Meyers had prescribed could manage. “Okay, so if you use the parking garage on Eighth Street, you can hit several downtown clubs from there. Liquid on Eighth and there's Fatty's on West Idaho. I think a new place just opened up near there called Equilibrium that's supposed to be pretty hot, too.”

“Thanks.” Three locations were more than a decent jumping-off point. From there he could ask around, maybe find out where the bulk of the product was being moved. “I owe you one.”

“I won't forget it, either. Have a good one, Damien.”

He took a faltering step away from the front desk, wishing he could talk to her for another hour or so. “You too, Tabitha.”

“'Night,” she called after him with a wave.

Maybe this assignment wouldn't be too bad after all.

 

 

“Check you out, getting your flirt on.”

Tabitha turned to face Dave and shook her head at the conspiratorial grin affixed to his face. “It's called good customer service. You should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh.” He clucked his tongue at her as he approached the desk. “I don't blame you. If I'd gotten to work a few minutes sooner, you can bet I would've flirted my ass off. Did you see those tattoos? And oh my God, his arms.” Dave mocked a swoon. “Tall, built, and inked.
Yum
.”

Tall—pushing six-two at least—with the body of an MMA ass-kicker and an expression that screamed
cross me and suffer the consequences
, Damien had
dangerous bad boy
written all over him. Three-quarter sleeve tattoos covered his corded forearms and ran up his wide, sculpted biceps to disappear under the sleeves of his T-shirt. And though he looked like he frequented dive bars and back alleys often, Damien didn't have that nasty, grunge-coated look to him. In fact, when he smiled, the soft openness of the expression had stolen Tabitha's breath. Deep dimples pitted his cheeks, and they'd lent a youthful lightheartedness to him that she never would have known was there if he hadn't smiled at her.

Yep, tall, built, and tattooed hit everything on Tabitha's
yes, please!
list, but those same qualities in a guy often came with their own sets of problems. “Oh, he's yummy,” Tabitha agreed. And he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, too. “But yummy can be trouble.”

“Yes, it can.”

Tabitha laughed at Dave's suggestive tone. Sure, Damien's golden-brown eyes had been hypnotic and his messy thatch of light brown hair practically begged to be touched, but he was a guest at the hotel. “Good thing for us he's off-limits, then.” She and Dave had the same taste in men, which was why they were both often in the dating doghouse. Bad boys had their allure, but they only broke your heart in the end.

“I don't know,” Dave said on a sigh. “I might be willing to lose my job over a shot at that.”

“I would have your head.” Tabitha swatted at him and Dave sidestepped her mock assault. “It's too hard to find decent front-desk people. You can't ever quit or get fired, which means no hitting on guests for you, mister.”

“Not that it would matter,” he replied as though hurt. “Because that tattooed god was obviously hot for your lady bits.”

She didn't want to admit that she'd felt a spark of connection between them. Or that in the course of their banter, her stomach had begun to gradually unfurl until it felt as though someone had let a swarm of butterflies loose to fly around. “My lady bits aside, I'm swearing off guys like that.”

“You mean drop-dead gorgeous, walking pieces of art?”

“I mean guys who look like trouble.” And despite the soft brilliance of his smile, Tabitha had no doubt that Damien was just as dangerous as he looked. “It's tax accountants and guidance counselors for me from here on out.”

“Great,” Dave replied. “That means more bad boys for me.”

“You say that now, but after your next breakup you'll be begging me to help you find a nice guy.”

“True. But until then, I'm sowing my oats.”

“As long as you don't reap from the company fields, I'm a-okay with that.”

“Fine. But I'm telling you now, if Mr. MMA even blinks at me with so much as minimal interest, all bets are off.”

Tabitha laughed. “Deal.”

“Speaking of gorgeous bad boys, how's your brother?”

Dave had been crushing on Tabitha's brother, Seth, for as long as they'd known each other. He also knew how much trouble Seth caused in her life. Since they were kids, Tabitha had been bailing her younger brother out of one bad situation after another. And it's not like she could have ever counted on her less-than-responsible parents to help him out. He was the king of making bad decisions for the right reasons. Somewhere under his rough, troublemaker exterior was a good guy. He just needed someone to give him a chance to show that good side off.

“He's all right. He's trying to get a job working construction. If I can keep him on track for the next six months, I think he'll be set to start school in the fall. I've got him talked into a junior college to start. I really think he might follow through this time.”

“I love a man with a tool belt.” Dave flashed her a grin.

Another wave of guests entered the lobby, breaking up any further conversation, which was totally fine by Tabitha. She let Dave take care of checking them in and returned to her office to complete the food order for next week.

Seth might be trying to get his act together, but the fact of the matter was this was his last chance to make a change. Tabitha had saved his bacon for the last time. Getting him out of his latest bout of trouble had cost her dearly, and now she found herself an unwilling partner to her ex's less-than-legal business dealings. Joey had been Seth's friend first. Tabitha had hooked up with him because wherever Seth was, Joey wasn't too far behind, and he'd been truly charming in the beginning. Well, charming in that dangerous bad-boy way that inevitably curled Tabitha's toes.

If she could go back and do it all over again, she would have taken Seth and left Boise in their wake before either of them could fall prey to that bastard. Hindsight was certainly twenty-twenty, but no amount of coulda, woulda, shouldas would change the fact that she'd found herself in a situation that was becoming more inescapable by the day.

Tabitha settled in at her desk and opened a browser window on her computer. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the cursor flashing in the Google search bar. The keys clicked as she typed: FBI, Boise, Idaho. Her pinky paused before clicking Enter. Did the FBI even deal with guys like Joey? She hit the backspace and typed:
Boise Police Department, narcotics
and clicked the first search result:
City of Boise, Bandit Narcotics Vice Unit
.