One Touch More (4 page)

As Charlie went on about his promotion—she was pretty sure he'd said he was an investment banker—Tabitha's gaze was inextricably drawn to Damien at the far end of the bar. She watched him from behind her hair as he nursed a drink and played a round of pool with Joey and Tony.

Maybe it was a sign of her totally messed-up childhood that she went for guys who lived a life she'd spent years trying to escape. Her parents had been addicts for as long as she could remember, dealing on the side to fund their habits and paying about as much attention to their kids as other people paid to the mice living in their walls. She and Seth were forced to fend for themselves, and whereas her brother had chosen to follow in their parents' footsteps, Tabitha had shunned their lifestyle. Her life's goal was to aspire to something more than poverty and addiction, yet her choice in men didn't help to elevate her from that station.

“So, what do you ladies do?”

Lila nudged her and Tabitha turned her attention back to the conversation. Lila said, “I'm a designer and Tabitha is studying to be a nurse.”

“A designer?” Charlie leaned in and Lila scooted her chair closer to him. “That sounds interesting. Tell me more.”

Nursing wasn't exactly one of those professions that screamed,
Tell me more!
Nurses were the unsung heroes of the medical profession, and Tabitha was totally okay with flying under the radar. She didn't want to be a nurse for the glory or attention. Rather, she wanted to help people. Make a difference. Do something that changed someone's life for the better.

Lila continued to tell Charlie all about her handbag line, and as a money man, he seemed more than eager to lend a few tips. Tabitha's gaze slid once again to the pool tables and she couldn't help but wonder, what would it take for a woman to make a difference in Damien Evans's life?

Chapter Four

“I made contact with a distributor Friday night. Joey Cavello. Selling out of a downtown hotel, so I'm willing to bet he's Lightfoot's man. He's cautious, but he'll call. He's got the ego and I think he's looking to work his way up in the organization. If Cavello wants to impress his supplier, he'll need trustworthy dealers to do that, and name-dropping Tanner Beckstrom gave me a leg up. With any luck, he'll be in touch by the end of the week.”

The conference room at the USMS Boise office wasn't exactly packed, but most of the key players were present. Representatives from the Boise PD's Bandit narcotics task force, U.S. Deputy Marshal Ryan Gates—Damien's official contact at the Idaho district headquarters—and the chief deputy, Dennis Callihan. The only one not present was Jenna McIntyre, the federal prosecutor representing the federal Fugitive Task Force. But since she wouldn't be brought in until they located Lightfoot, Damien wasn't too concerned over her absence.

“We had a feeling that they were using local hotels to deal from.” John Rader, the narcotics detective, scribbled down a couple of notes on a legal pad. “Usually, we'll get a heads-up from the hotel staff if something suspicious is going on. Vice took down a prostitution ring a few months back that way. But this guy must be keeping a pretty low profile because we haven't heard a thing.”

“That's because Cavello has someone on the inside.” Damien scrubbed a hand over his head and leaned back in his chair. It was too damned early to be at work after spending the entire weekend drinking and networking. He was getting too old for this shit. “An ex-girlfriend who's setting up the rooms for him to use and covering his tracks with the staff and guests. Cavello is running a pretty tight ship. He's got a good thing going and he's not about to do anything to jeopardize his operation.”

“You want us to run the girlfriend's name?” Gates asked. “See if we can find anything to bring her in for?”

“No,” Damien responded. “Flipping the girlfriend is a last resort at this point. Cavello seemed interested in bringing me into the fold, so for now, we're good. Lightfoot is the prize here. We have to look at the big picture.”

“Got it,” Gates agreed. “Business as usual.”

“We'll make sure it's covered on our end as well,” Detective Rader added. “My guys will be sure to lay off Cavello. He'll have some smooth sailing for a while. Though I gotta tell you guys, shutting his operation down would be a big feather in my cap.”

“If we get our hands on Lightfoot,” Chief Deputy Callihan chimed in, “you're welcome to him.”

“So what's the plan from here?” Rader asked.

“We just wait,” Damien said on a sigh. “Cavello has to come to me. If I press him, it'll look suspicious. I laid the groundwork Friday night and it's solid. He'll call.”

“Hopefully sooner, rather than later.”

Damien gave Gates a rueful smile. “No doubt.”

“I do want to add that I'm not thrilled about you working solo on this,” Chief Deputy Callihan said. “If you don't want backup, I think you should at least wear a wire.”

“No,” Damien replied. It might have been crazy, but he liked working solo. “Cavello doesn't trust me yet. I don't want to risk the chance of being made because I'm wearing a wire. I don't think he's dangerous and he might be the link to getting close to Lightfoot.”

“It's some real cowboy shit,” Callihan said. “But it's your call.”

Damien nodded. He could handle himself out there. He'd been doing it for a long damned time.

“Okay, I think we've covered everything.” The chief deputy pushed his chair out from the conference table. He rapped his knuckles on the surface before heading for the door. “Parker, keep us posted.”

Parker. Here he was the upstanding deputy U.S. marshal. One of the good guys. It was the side of his personality he found harder to identify with, the deeper undercover he went. For this particular case, he'd be toeing the line between fantasy and reality, living the criminal life on a part-time basis with lower-level criminals than the type he'd more recently hung out with.

“I'll be in touch.” The rest of the men at the table packed up their notebooks and briefcases, and tossed paper cups in the trash. Damien stayed put, though. He needed a few minutes of silence and solitude. A brief meditation to get his shit straight.

Damien slouched down in his chair and let his head fall back on his shoulders. A couple hours' sleep wasn't enough, and he thought about propping his feet up on the table and taking a nice, long nap. He doubted that would go over well though, so he opted for a couple of minutes of rest. Eyes closed, he let the silence sink into his skin. His brain was always too goddamned busy, too full. And this was a rare moment of stillness that he treasured.

During his last session with Dr. Meyers, she'd asked why he wanted out of undercover. His response: “I miss the peace and quiet. I want a little stillness in my life.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he released a deep breath. Check him out, being all introspective and shit. The doc would be so proud.

 

 

Damien woke to the sound of his phone playing the tune of Nirvana's “Heart-Shaped Box.” He had a soft spot for emotionally damaged nineties grunge rockers. Spoke to his own raging angst. The blackout drapes in his hotel room were drawn—it could have been three in the morning or afternoon for all he knew or cared. He'd crashed hard after this morning's meeting, hitting the mattress like a felled tree. Jesus, he was exhausted.

He swiped his finger across the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah.” The one word barely qualified as anything more than a grunt.

“This Damien?”

His eyes opened and he came more fully awake at the sound of Joey's voice. “Yeah. Who's this?” No use acting like he was waiting on the dude's call. He wanted to appear interested, not anxious.

“Joey Cavello. I met you at Liquid a few nights ago. You said you might be interested in slinging a little product for me.”

“Yeah,” Damien said. “I remember.”

“You still want in?”

“Sure.” This was good. He'd expected Joey to reach out but not so soon. The guy was eager and it would help to bump up their timetable. “What do you have in mind, man?”

“How 'bout you meet me at Liquid later tonight so we can discuss terms. I don't do business over the phone.”

The smart criminals knew how to cover their bases. Joey came across as clueless, but he was much shrewder than Damien had initially given him credit for. “Yeah,” Damien said. “I'm down. What time?”

“I've got some shit to do this evening, so around ten.”

Damien's gut clenched. It was that nerve-racking moment when the gears began to grind, a plan being set into motion. “I'll be there. See you then.”

“Later.”

Once the call was disconnected, Damien took a few cleansing breaths. His head was pounding like a motherfucker and his mouth felt like it was coated with a layer of fuzz. Damned dry, forced air. He flexed his arms, loosening the stiff muscles before he pushed himself off the bed. A few stumbling steps got him to the window and he brushed the curtains aside, staring down at the parking lot of the Hilton he'd relocated to after discovering that he'd been camped out at the very hotel Joey was doing business from. He glanced back at the digital display of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Three in the afternoon. He exchanged the burner cell for his work phone, which was tucked away in the nightstand, and searched through his contacts, pulling up Deputy Gates's number.

“Gates,” he answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Ryan. It's Da—uh, Parker. Cavello made contact. He wants to meet tonight. How quickly can you get me some cash? I want to be sure I have enough to impress him. In case he needs me to prove that I'm capable of moving a shitload of product.” Cavello wanted to work his way up in the syndicate, and Damien wanted him to think that he was equally ambitious. The faster he was accepted into Cavello's inner circle, the closer he'd be to finding Lightfoot.

“You must have made an impression for him to get ahold of you so quickly.”

Which was why the SOG loaned Damien out regularly for interdepartmental operations. He was damned efficient. “It's good for our timetable,” he agreed. “Definitely a good sign.”

“I'll get the paperwork started, and Callihan will need you to sign the request,” Gates said. “But I'm sure we can get you what you need by the end of the day.”

“Great. I'll swing by the office this afternoon.”

“Sounds good. I'll get the ball rolling on our end. See you in a few hours.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I'm here to make sure you have everything you need to do your job.”

He disconnected the call and Damien tossed his phone onto the bed. He had more than enough time to shower and grab a bite to eat before he headed over to the office. After that, he'd spend the rest of the evening getting into the right mind-set for his meeting with Cavello. Undercover work wasn't the picnic that outsiders thought it was. The necessary compartmentalization of his life was what kept him level as he prepared to dive headfirst into his criminal persona.

See ya later, Parker Evans. Damien was there for the duration.

 

 

Tabitha stared at the list of arrivals, her stomach curling up as tight as a fist. Joey's business was certainly picking up. Two weekends in a row was unusual for him, and it was something that Tabitha never wanted to become a common occurrence. She'd been hoping that he'd slowly fade out of her life, not stick around indefinitely. Luckily it wasn't a busy weekend; the hotel was pretty empty. She just hoped that Joey would keep a low profile, conduct his business, and get the hell out of there with as little contact as possible. She'd rather deal with his smarmy “employees” than Joey any day, and that was saying a lot.

The front-desk phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. Jeez. She was a total basket case. “Thank you for calling the IdaHaven Inn and Suites, this is Tabitha, how can I help you this evening?”

“Hey.”

Joey. Adrenaline shot through her system in a nervous rush. She hated that he could affect her in such a negative way. “I've got your suite ready, Joey. What else could you possibly want?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things.”

Gross. Tabitha's stomach lurched at the thought. How could she have ever dated him? “I'm busy, Joey. Get to the point.”

“I've got a new guy coming in tonight. I want you to make sure he's set up.”

A little ray of sunshine poked through the dark clouds of her week. At least she wouldn't have to see Joey in person. “I'll set him up like I would any other guest, is that what you mean?” Seriously, what did he expect? That she'd give him turn-down service with a chocolate on his pillow?

“I want you to treat him better than you would a regular guest. We throw a lot of business your way, Tabs.”

Business that Tabitha could do without. “It's really nice how you make it sound like I'm not working with you under duress. As if I have a choice—” A woman approached the front desk and Tabitha lowered her voice. “I'll be right with you,” she said. And then to Joey, “Don't worry, your new employee will be well taken care of, Mr. Cavello. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?”

“Good girl.” It took all of her willpower not to cringe away from the phone. “We'll talk soon.”

Tabitha hung up the phone and released a shuddering breath.

“I was a waitress for ten years.” The woman gave her a commiserating smile. “There are some customers who are impossible to please.”

If only Joey were nothing more than a difficult guest; Tabitha could have managed him, no problem. Unfortunately, he was a lot more dangerous than just some guy with a beef about his room rate. “Isn't that the truth?” Tabitha fixed her best customer-service grin on her face. “How can I help you this evening?”

When Joey's new “employee” walked into the lobby rolling a large suitcase behind him, Tabitha wasn't exactly surprised to see Damien Evans. According to Dave, he'd checked out the morning after she'd seen him at Liquid with Joey. Also not a shocker. He'd more than likely heard through the grapevine that people could buy drugs out of the hotel, and had no doubt been casing Joey's operation. Tabitha's assertion that he was more dangerous—and likely smarter—than her ex was obviously correct. He'd totally played Joey. Maneuvered himself into a job. The question was, why?