One Touch More (26 page)

“Lightfoot's plane is in a private hangar at the airport. We need to get a team over there ASAP to clear the contents and seize it. This is your operation. You need to run point so we can wrap this up.”

“Tabitha—”

“Is not your responsibility. The guys from Gowen have this under control. Let them handle it.”

Damien pushed past the chief deputy, bound and determined to talk to Tabitha before he set out on this fool's errand that any guy with a badge could do. “Evans!” Callihan barked. “You need to take a step back.”

As though just realizing there were more people than the two of them standing there, Damien noticed many sets of curious eyes watching his every move. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into tight fists. At any other scene, he would have passed off any witnesses, victims, innocent bystanders to EMS personnel or the first available officer of lower rank while he focused on tying up each and every loose end. But as soon as Lightfoot had been nullified, Damien's whole world became attending to Tabitha. It obviously hadn't gone unnoticed.

“I told her I'd stay with her, sir. I promised.”

“We can let her know that you had to leave. She's well taken care of.”

They could launch an IA investigation if they wanted to. He wasn't going anywhere. “With all due respect, I'm staying. At least until that explosive is defused. After I know Tabitha is safe, I'll wrap up at the airport.”

Callihan let out an exasperated sigh. “You're a stubborn son of a bitch. You know that?”

Damien brushed past the chief. “I do, sir.”

He pushed through the throng of Gowen Field's best as he heard the frantic, pleading tone of Tabitha's voice. “Can't I just let it go? My fingers are going numb. I'm tired. My ankle is killing me. Please, I just want to let it go.”

Damien found her surrounded by a group of explosives experts trying to talk her out of taking her hand off the detonator until they could disarm Lightfoot's bomb. Damien slid in behind her, not giving a single shit about the looks he got from the people around him, and eased her back against his chest. “I'm here, Tabitha.”

“I don't know how much longer I can hold this damned button down, Damien.”

He closed his fists over hers to still the violent tremor of her hands. “Close your eyes.”

When her body relaxed against his, he knew she'd done as he asked. He let his own eyes drift shut, blocking out everything until there was just the two of them. “When I first laid eyes on you, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't even form a coherent thought. No woman ever stopped me in my tracks before, but you did.”

Tabitha's breath hitched and the tremor in her hands calmed by a small degree.

“Working undercover is hard. It's fucking torture on my mind. I spend a month after every case in goddamned therapy, trying to talk out the anxiety that has become so normal that I didn't think I could function without it. But in three weeks, you've done more for me than years of bullshitting with some shrink ever accomplished. You leveled me out, calmed that part of me that could never settle down. You're like the best muscle relaxer on the market, honey. I'm addicted to you, Tabitha. I can't live without you. So you've got to be strong and just hold down that button for a while longer. Can you do that for me?”

Something warm and wet dripped on his hand.
Tap
. And then again.
Tap
. Tabitha sniffed and Damien peeked through one lid and caught sight of a woman in full tactical gear. She held up the splayed fingers of one hand and mouthed, “
Five minutes
.”

Damien put his lips to Tabitha's temple. “You're doing great. Don't cry, honey. Just a few more minutes.”

“Is Seth okay?” she whispered.

“Seth's fine. Deputy Gates got him out of here and he's okay.”

Her grip loosened but not enough to release the button. Good. The tension in her fingers led to the cramping. He needed her relaxed. Just five more minutes . . .

Damien continued to murmur in her ear, words of encouragement, mundane things, a story about the time he camped out on a cold snow-covered mountain in Afghanistan for three days without sleep. Minutes passed and Tabitha sat still, her thumbs holding down the button.

“Damien,” she said quietly, turning her face toward his. “I'm in love with you.”

His eyes flew open at the admission, his chest swelling to the point he thought it might burst. He'd been so scared that he might lose her tonight, too many close calls to count. He met the gaze of the woman marking the explosive ordnance team's progress, and she smiled. Gave him a thumbs-up and said, “We're good. The bomb's disarmed.”

He leaned over Tabitha and squeezed her tight. “I am
so
in love with you, Tabitha. Open your eyes, baby. You can let go now.”

She couldn't release her grip, but Damien helped to loosen her fingers from around the detonator. He handed it over to the woman standing beside them and shushed Tabitha as she cried quietly in his arms.

“It's over, Tabitha. You're going to be okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tabitha stared at the carts, machinery, and myriad medical tools in the too-bright hospital room. It sucked to be the patient, but she wasn't about to give any of the nurses even a tiny bit of flak. She'd been examined, X-rayed, and her ankle was now sporting a bright pink cast—they didn't have any black casting—and she'd just said good-bye to her brother for God knew how long.

The U.S. Marshals Service sure didn't waste any time. Seth had been hauled from the scene of Gerald's arrest and his belongings promptly packed. She'd hoped for more time with him. A few hours at least, but according to Deputy Gates, part of what made the witness protection program effective was the Marshals Service's ability to relocate a witness quickly and quietly. She hadn't been given enough time to say everything she'd wanted to say to her brother. Just a hug and a quick good-bye. And all she was left with was worry and guilt.

“All righty, I've got your discharge papers here, Tabitha. We just need you to sign them and you're good to go.”

“Thanks.” She gave the nurse a wan smile as she mechanically signed each of the papers and took the little business card with the information for her follow-up appointments. The nurse handed her a baggie with a bottle of pain meds and a prescription for more if she needed them.

“Do you have someone to help you out at home, Tabitha? You're going to be sore for a while and you won't be running any races anytime soon.”

Did she? Uncertainty and doubt clawed away at her. After riding in the ambulance with her and getting her settled in the ER, Damien had had to leave to wrap up with the other marshals on the scene. Of course she understood and refused to let him feel bad for leaving her. He had a job to do, after all. But in the quiet aftermath of the worst ordeal of her life—and that was saying a lot considering her life—she couldn't help but worry. What would happen now? Would Damien leave Boise? He'd said he loved her, but in the grand scheme of things, what did love matter when compared to his other obligations? He had a job. A life somewhere else. Would she be a part of Damien's future or just a memory in his past?

“Tabitha? Are you sure this is what you want?” Deputy Gates stood just outside the exam room, his brow furrowed. He'd been designated Tabitha's baby-sitter for the night, responsible for making sure she made it home safely.

“I'm sure. I don't want to start over. Or hide. I'm tired of being scared and worried and I'm going to take my life back on my own terms.” It might have been the Norco talking, but she hadn't felt so brave in a long time. “I'm just glad that Seth is going to be taken care of.”

The nurse interrupted any further conversation when she came up beside the exam table with a set of crutches and a wheelchair. “You're good to go.” She handed Tabitha the crutches, while Deputy Gates took her paperwork. “Just take it easy for the next few weeks and don't push yourself too hard.”

Tabitha settled into the wheelchair and put the crutches across her lap. She had a month until fall semester and her clinicals started, and since she doubted she'd have a job after tonight, there was a pretty good chance she'd have plenty of downtime. Not to mention weeks of ramen noodles ahead of her, since she wouldn't have a paycheck for a while.

She waited with the nurse while Deputy Gates brought the car around. He parked under the ER's portico and held open the passenger-side door. “Ready, Tabitha?”

Seth was safe, Joey was gone, and it wouldn't be long before the rest of Joey's partners, Tony included, would be rounded up by Boise PD. She had a fresh start ahead of her in a life that was one hundred percent in her control. So why did she feel as though she was about to lose everything?

 

 

Damien watched as Lightfoot's Cessna was loaded up onto a trailer, ready to be hauled off to impound. His plane was loaded down with automatic weapons, a stash of emergency cash, and several fake IDs and passports, as well as more C-4 and the additional bomb-making accoutrements Lightfoot would have needed to blow the hangar to shreds. The guy wasn't just dangerous, he was certifiably insane.

“This is a huge win, Parker. Huge.”

Bill Crawford had flown in to personally oversee Lightfoot's arrest and processing. He'd missed the big show, but he was fine with basking in the aftermath of the arrest and seizure of Lightfoot's property. Crawford was right: It was a huge win. One that would define his career. So why was Damien's stomach churning like an angry sea?

“Thank you, sir. I'm just glad the son of a bitch is in custody.”

Crawford gave him a robust pat on the back. “We'll want you in charge of Lightfoot's transfer. His shoulder is patched up and we're moving him out ASAP. Can you be ready to roll in fifteen?”

Leaving Boise was the last thing Damien wanted. But getting Lightfoot as far away from Tabitha as possible was more important right now, and Damien didn't trust anyone else to see it done. “I'm ready. I'll fly back after he's processed and tie up my loose ends here. It won't be a problem.”

Crawford continued to talk, about what Damien had no fucking idea. His thoughts were elsewhere, the worry over Tabitha eating him alive. Was she okay? Had they been able to set her ankle without any trouble? And what about her face? Was anything else broken? Her physical injuries were nothing compared to his concern over her emotional state, though. She'd been reluctant to let him go, her anxiety apparent in the visible tremor that shook her slight form.

Tabitha thought she was weak. But in truth, her strength, her fortitude, astounded him. His own fear ran far deeper than hers, shaking him deep in the pit of his soul. What would happen after tonight? He'd been one hundred percent honest with her when he'd spoken low in her ear. He needed her. Craved her. Loved her. But sometimes emotional attachments were forged in brutally intense situations like the one Tabitha had just endured. What if her reciprocating words were just empty promises made during stressful moments? Had she perhaps projected an imitation of honest emotion, professing her love for him because he was offering her the support she needed in a life-or-death situation?

Maybe Tabitha didn't want him the way he wanted her. If so, where did that leave him?

“So, what do you think, Evans?”

Damien turned to the SOG director. “Sorry, sir. I didn't get that last part.” Yeah, right. He didn't get any of it, he was so caught up in his own damned head.

“I said that after tonight you'll be able to write your own ticket. You can go anywhere, work any detail. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the FBI, CIA, or even Department of Homeland tries to court you. But I've gotta say, I'm going to do what I can to keep you on my team, Parker. Just tell me what it's going to take to keep you around.”

Damien knew what he wanted. It was a huge risk, one that might result in his undoing. But the truth of it was, if this didn't work out he'd be undone anyway. Might as well pull the trigger and see what happened. “I'm not interested in working for another agency,” Damien replied. “But as long as we're talking about what I want, I'd like to talk to you about a transfer.”

“We can do whatever you want,” Crawford replied. “Just say the word.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“I wish you could have been there to see it. Sandy looked that guy from corporate straight in the eye and told him where he could stick it. If I'd been thinking, I would have recorded it on my phone so you could watch the awesomeness for yourself. It was probably the best thing I've ever seen.”

No doubt Dave's drama meter had topped out when Sandy went to bat with the corporate executive who'd demanded that Tabitha not only be fired, but suggested that charges be filed for her role in Joey's operation. What Mister Big Executive didn't realize was that for her role in all of it, Tabitha had immunity from prosecution in exchange for her testimony. Likewise, it was sweet that Sandy had stood up for her. But Tabitha wasn't so sure she was going to go back to her job at the IdaHaven. She only had six months of clinicals left in the fall before she could get a nursing job. Maybe she could find something in a restaurant or grocery store to float her until graduation.

“Tell her thanks for me,” Tabitha replied with a smile. “I bet it was a killer scene.”

Dave finished putting away the few groceries he'd picked up for her, and leaned against the bar. “Looks like I didn't need to buy you much. You're pretty well stocked.”

“Lila,” Tabitha said. “She's been bringing me food, magazines, movies . . . Even hanging out when she's not at work or with Charlie.” Things were heating up with the investment banker and Lila had been pretty scarce. Still proving she could be a good friend, though, she'd checked in on Tabitha regularly over the past couple of weeks.

“I'm going to have to step up my game,” Dave remarked. “No way am I going to let Lila be a better friend than me.”

When she'd left the hospital after her ordeal, Tabitha had thought she was alone. Dave and Lila, even Sandy, were proving her wrong, though. She wasn't alone. There were people besides Seth who cared about her. They were a family of sorts, and she felt blessed to have them in her life.

“You're still my favorite person to gossip with, Dave. You've got Lila beat in that department.”

He smiled. “Damn straight. So . . . in the vein of being a good friend, have you heard from the tattooed love god lately?”

Tabitha hobbled over to the couch, careful not to catch her crutches on the coffee table. “He's called.” Damien—damn it, she should probably get used to thinking of him as Parker—called at least once a day. He had to wrap up his case against Lightfoot and until then, he was going to have to stay wherever it was that undercover marshals took their top level prisoners. Dam—
Parker
said that the less she knew about it, the better. Tabitha had to agree with him. She didn't want to know anything about where Gerald Lightfoot was. She didn't want to think about him at all.

“And . . . ?” Dave looked as though the suspense was killing him.

“We talk.” Tabitha was usually more than ready to discuss her love life with Dave, but things had changed. She'd changed. Her feelings weren't girlish, or fleeting. This wasn't some crush that she'd get over later. She was in love with a man she wasn't sure she even knew. Maybe Parker was a completely different man than Damien. She'd always sensed a duality in him. What if she was in love with the undercover persona and nothing more? What if she didn't love Parker Evans?

Dave leaned forward, eyes wide. “Dirty talk?”

“Like I'd tell you,” she teased. “Mostly it's just boring, everyday sort of talk.”

Tabitha didn't miss the way Dave deflated at her lack of juicy details. “Is he coming back?”

That was the big question, wasn't it? “I don't know,” she said with a shrug. “I hope so.”

A knock came at the door and Tabitha stifled a groan. It was such a pain to move around her tiny apartment on her crutches.

“Stay put,” Dave said. “I'll get it.”

Thank. God. Maybe she could talk Dave into moving into Seth's old room until she was given a walking cast. She'd already tripped several times in the past couple of weeks, and she wasn't really interested in breaking anything else. All she needed was to trip and crack her wrist or something. “Thanks, Dave. You're awesome.”

“Oh, don't I know it.” He flashed her a grin as he crossed the living room to the front door. “Well, speak of the devil.” Dave opened the door wide, and standing on the other side, head and shoulders above her friend, was the very object of Tabitha's obsession.

Holy crap. In the weeks they'd been apart it seemed as though he'd grown more commanding, a specimen of masculine perfection without equal. Dave didn't even bother to hide his own look of admiration as he took in all six-plus feet of sculpted muscle and gorgeous ink. He was everything Tabitha could have possibly wanted. A bad boy on the outside with a heart of gold on the inside.

Perfect.

“Hi.” The word lodged in her throat, nothing more than a pathetic squeak.

“Well, I'm thinking this is my cue to GTFO,” Dave said with a laugh. “Call me if you need anything, Tabs, though it looks like you've got everything you want.”

Heat rose to her cheeks and her eyes grew wide. It's like he went out of his way to embarrass her. “Thanks, Dave,” she said through a tight smile. “I'll call you later.”

Dam—uh, Parker—stepped through the doorway as Dave exited. The door closed behind him with an echoing finality that caused Tabitha's pulse to jump in her veins. After two weeks apart, she was as giddy and nervous as she'd been the first time she'd laid eyes on him.

He tied her into knots. Who cared if he was Parker, or Damien, or whoever? He was here now. That's all that mattered.

 

 

A couple of weeks might as well have been decades spent away from her. For a long moment, Damien stood and just took in the sight of her. Goddamn, she was beautiful. His gaze lit on the cast encasing her leg and he felt a stab of regret that he hadn't been there for her at the hospital, and afterward to help her.

“How's your leg?” He'd practiced what he was going to say to her on the four-hour flight. Each word planned and precise. But now that he was standing here, so close he could touch, every single thought-out word was sucked from his brain like water down the drain.
How's your leg? It's broken, dumbass.

“It's starting to itch.” Tabitha gave a nervous laugh. “I made Dave bring me a wire hanger the other day so I could scratch it. By the time they put the walking cast on, I'm going to scratch all of my skin off.”

“I broke my ankle when I was thirteen. It sucked.”

“Yeah. I won't be running any marathons for a while, I guess.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Is it weird that I have no idea what to call you? I've been trying not to think of you as Damien, but it's tough, you know? I can only imagine what the duality is like for you.”

An awkward quiet swallowed up all of the breathable air and he cupped the back of his neck to try and massage away some of the tension pinching the muscle there. Why was he ruining this moment? All he'd been able to think about for the past two weeks was getting back to Tabitha. And now that he was right here in front of her, he was letting his own damned insecurities get the better of him. Damn it, not anymore. He wasn't going to let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers because of his own stupid doubts.

He rushed to the couch and hauled Tabitha up into his arms. “You can call me any goddamned thing you want as long as you love me.” Damien navigated the coffee table and carried Tabitha down the hallway to her bedroom, careful not to bump her leg in the process. “I always thought that I had to be one or the other. Damien or Parker. There was no in-between. But with you, I can be both. I can be more.” He set her gently on the bed and stretched out beside her, brushing the hair from her face. “I'm here for good, Tabitha, but only if you want me.”

“What do you mean, for good?” She searched his face as though for the truth in his words.

“I mean, I asked for a transfer. No more undercover. I want to put down roots. Here. With you.”

Tabitha's eyes glistened with unshed tears and a quick smile lit her features. She was the brightest star in a night sky, shining just for him. A beacon calling him home. “Are you sure you want this?” The soft timbre of her voice caressed every nerve ending, filled his chest with so much emotion he thought it would burst. “My life is so messed up. I mean, God . . . Parker, I've got so much baggage it would fill a school bus.”

Parker
. His name used to grate on his own ears, didn't sound right after so many years of living undercover. But the way she said it, with so much gentle affection . . . It was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

“Say my name again.”

Her bemused expression melted into a brilliant smile. “Parker.”

He kissed her, slow. “Again.”

A bout of sensual laughter rippled over him like warm water on a cool evening. “Parker.”

He let out a low growl before he kissed her again, this time sliding his tongue against hers. She met him with equal fervor, winding her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. Chills cascaded down his spine as he held her close, loving the way her body fit against his. “I wouldn't care if you had enough baggage to fill six school buses. I love you, Tabitha Martin. I love everything about you, including your baggage. There is nothing you could throw at me that I can't take. And I'm more than ready to trust you with my baggage, too. Believe me, mine would fill up a few buses, too.”

She smiled against his lips. “Well, you did let me sew you up. If that doesn't prove that you trust me, I don't know what does.”

“I trust you,” he assured her. “With my life, my heart, everything.”

“I trust you, too.” She kissed him once, her lips lingering on his. “With my life, my heart, everything. You keep your promises, Parker. No one has ever done that for me. I love you.”

And he'd keep on keeping those promises to her. “I love you. So much.” His mouth found hers and he lost himself to her taste, the silky glide of her tongue and petal softness of her lips. Tabitha was his drug; there was no doubt about it. “I'm addicted to you, honey. I hope you know, you won't ever be getting rid of me.”

She pulled away and gave him a brilliant smile. “Everyone's got a vice, right?”

He traced the line of her jaw, brushed his thumb over her full bottom lip. “I think so. What's yours?”

“My addiction?” Her voice dropped an octave and her voice sparked with mischief. “Well, I can't seem to get enough of this certain deputy marshal. He's a good guy wrapped up in a bad boy package. Pretty perfect if you ask me.”

“I'm far from perfect.”

“You're perfect for me, Parker. Isn't that all that matters?”

“It is. You're perfect for me, too.” Lying here with Tabitha in his arms, he knew he was finally home. “Say my name again.”

Her throaty laughter stirred his blood. “Parker.”

Perfect.