One Touch More (5 page)

Tabitha had forgotten how commanding his presence was up close, his frame larger, more muscular and imposing than she remembered. Guys like Damien thrived on intimidation, threw their weight around on a regular basis. She studied him as he walked across the lobby, his rolling gait slow and graceful, like a grizzly bear prowling through the woods. This guy was at the top of the food chain and had been for a while. Which begged the question: How did someone like that wind up working
for
someone like Joey?

“So, I take it
Parking Lot Monthly
decided to cut you loose?” No use trying to be even a little bit personable. Damien wasn't a guest. He wasn't even a nice guy. He was just another asshole drug peddler.

“The economy just hasn't bounced back enough to support the parking-lot aficionados.” His voice rippled over Tabitha's skin in a prickle of heat. Deep and gruff, but without the hard edge of sarcasm she'd expected. He placed his hands on the counter, fingers splayed. She tried not to look at the tattoos marking his knuckles, no doubt affiliating him with some gang or another. “Gotta pay the bills, you know?”

“I hear Applebee's is hiring.” His brow furrowed and for a moment she was helpless to do anything but stare. Like she'd noticed on the first night she'd met him, Damien lived in the shell of a well-seasoned criminal, but beneath his rough exterior, there was an inner light. An unmistakable aura that made Tabitha think there was more to him than met the eye.

He cocked his head to one side, returning her gaze and looking even more like a wary animal. “Do I look like I could get a job at Applebee's?”

She imagined him towering over a table of elderly ladies, tattoos and all, reciting the night's specials in that deliciously rough voice. A pleasant shiver danced over her skin and Tabitha shook herself from her thoughts and directed her attention to the computer screen. “Okay, so maybe not Applebee's.” Why was she even trying to have a conversation with him? If he was associated with Joey in any way, he was trouble. Period. “I've got you all set up in a suite for the weekend. Room 504. You're in a corner room, tucked away from the bulk of the guests. I assume you know the ground rules?”

A crease cut into his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. In the depths of his golden-brown eyes, something glimmered, as though he fought some inner turmoil and had just flipped a switch of decision. Tabitha knew that feeling all too well. She flipped that same switch every time she was forced to deal with Joey and his business. Did that mean she was becoming too used to this life he'd forced her into, that she could so easily turn off her conscience when she needed to?

“I'm square,” Damien said, a little too gruff. “I just need a key and I'm set.”

Tabitha coded two key cards for the suite and slid them into an envelope. “I'm on shift until ten o'clock tonight, and after that Kendall, the night auditor, is on shift.” She grabbed the cordless phone from the remote unit, and a handheld radio. “Give me a second.”

Damien stood stoic, not even a nod of acknowledgment as Tabitha ducked her head into the back office and asked Sam, the sales manager, to keep an eye on the front desk for a few minutes. When she emerged from the office, Damien looked as though he hadn't moved an inch in the sixty seconds or so she'd been gone. Dude was a statue.

“Ready?”

He cocked a brow. “Don't think I can make it down the hallway by myself?”

Tabitha gave him a reluctant smile at the subtle rib. “Just doing my job.”

Damien's gaze darkened. “Escorting me to my room is part of your job?”

She didn't know why—hell, she didn't even really know the guy—but she felt like she could level with him. “Look, Damien. I'm just doing what I'm told. I don't know what goes on in the suites that Joey rents and I don't want to know.” Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. Maybe she should have said she didn't want to know any
more
than she already knew. “He told me to set you up, and that's what I'm doing.”

Tabitha took a left past the lobby and led the way to the elevators. “What's your take in all of this?” Damien asked. “Your cut must be pretty sweet.”

Hmmm. Chatty for someone who looked like he'd just as soon throw a punch as exchange small talk. Tabitha's hackles rose. The fact that Joey's people thought she had any stake in his dealings made her feel like she was covered with a layer of slime. “I don't have a take,” she remarked, maybe a little too forcefully. The last thing she needed was for word to get back to Joey that she was running off at the mouth. “Or a cut. See those doors?” She pointed to a set of glass doors leading out to the parking lot. “Your visitors need to exit from there. They shouldn't even be coming through the lobby. I leave that door unlocked for just that reason.” Tabitha stopped at the elevators and hit the button for the fifth floor. “Also, tell any guests that you might be entertaining to take the stairs. This late at night, no one wants to be cooped up with some twitchy, shady dude in an enclosed space.”

Damien remained silent, his gaze sliding over her in a way that made Tabitha's skin tingle. What she wouldn't give to know what he was thinking right now. The elevator deposited them on the fifth floor and Tabitha took a right down the hallway. “Also, you break it you buy it. If that room is in anything less than pristine condition when you check out, we're going to have a serious problem that has nothing to do with Joey. Understand?”

He paused midstep and Tabitha turned to face him. A grin curved his full lips, revealing deep dimples in both cheeks. “Nothing less than pristine. Got it.”

Holy shit, that smile. Tabitha's jaw went slack as something in her brain short-circuited. It transformed his face, intensifying that bright aura until it was almost blinding. It made him look younger. Carefree. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the sight of him, and that was a huge problem. She'd already paid the price once for hooking up with a guy who spent his time south of the law, and she wasn't about to do it again.

“Okay, then.” It took an actual effort to put her back to him and keep walking, but she held her course, stopping at the door to the suite marked 504. “Joey made it clear that you pay cash for the room when you check out on Sunday, right?” She didn't want a paper trail any more than Joey did. “I don't work on Sunday, but if you have any issues tell Jackie at the front desk to give me a call.”

Damien pulled one of the key cards from the envelope and stuck it in the slot of the door. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just behave.”

He turned to her and quirked a brow as though to say,
Really?

“You know what I mean.” She didn't have the patience to get into any moral discussions with a criminal tonight. “Keep a low profile. I don't really feel like looking for a new job anytime soon.” Or more to the point, she couldn't afford Joey's retribution if she got fired.

“There won't be any issues,” he assured her as he opened the door. “I doubt Joey is interested in finding a new hotel to stay at, either.”

And that was the problem. “Right. Okay, well, I'll leave you to it, Damien.” She turned and headed back the way she'd come. God, why was she being so damned polite? She should have told him to fuck off. That she thought they were all a bunch of low-life scumbags.
You're such a coward, Tabitha
.

He called out in a soft voice behind her, “Have a good night, Tabitha.”

Her eyes drifted shut for the barest moment. No one had ever said her name with such affection. It left her feeling not a little shaken. The last thing she needed was to be attracted to another bad influence.

Too late, honey
. She was already hooked.

Chapter Five

Damien secured the lock and slouched against the closed door. It had been a long damned time since any woman had caught his eye, and he didn't want to acknowledge that the one woman who had was an accessory to a crime. His undercover work made dating pretty much impossible, and likewise, when you hung out with the scum of the earth on a daily basis, the dating pool wasn't exactly overrun with eligible women. Tabitha claimed that she didn't know any details about Joey's operation, but she knew enough. She'd dated the guy, for fuck's sake. No way did she not know what her man had been into.

Still, her expression had been guileless, those big blue eyes of hers showing nothing but honesty. Her short, golden-blond hair looked as soft as corn silk, and in her wake, Damien had inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume. She reminded him of summer. Of the sun, and roses in full bloom. Though she didn't come across as the type of woman who took shit off of anyone, she'd apparently taken it from her ex. Why else would she be helping him by allowing him to set up his distribution operation inside of her hotel? It might've been a good idea to have Gates do a background check on her after all. There was more to Tabitha Martin than met the eye, and Damien wanted to know what it was.

Fuck. It was tough to get into character and compartmentalize when his brain was buzzing with questions. His interest in Tabitha had nothing to do with the job. He had to stop thinking of her in those terms and see her through Damien's eyes. She was a go-between and nothing more. A means to an end. Period. It was time to focus and get his head in the game.

He hoisted the heavy suitcase up onto the bed and unzipped it. Lifting the flap, he took a moment to examine the contents. Joey had gotten himself in deep, for sure. Filled to the brim with Stardust, the cache of narcotics was large enough to put Joey Cavello away for the rest of his life. Jesus. A twinge of guilt pulled at Damien's chest; the knowledge that this shit would soon be out on the streets unsettled him. But the prize was Lightfoot. He had to see the bigger picture. Boise PD would get their chance at Cavello. Just not quite yet.

Damien had refused to wear a wire and he hadn't thought it wise to bug the room, either. At least not yet. That's not to say he was completely alone. Gates had men staged close to the hotel who were responsible for monitoring the comings and goings of Cavello's clientele and to act as backup if shit went sideways. A small consolation, he supposed. Then again, if shit did go sideways, he'd probably be dead before his backup arrived. Callihan was right about it being some cowboy shit. Maybe his recklessness was an indicator that he just didn't give a shit anymore.

He replaced the SIM card in his burner phone and cataloged the contents of the suitcase, snapping pictures of the drugs, the room, anything and everything that could be used as evidence. He might be using Cavello's operation to get to Lightfoot, but that didn't mean he couldn't help build a case against the asshole in the meantime. After he finished, he tucked the tiny memory card into his boot. Even if Joey's crew showed up to further vet him, they weren't going to bother digging around in his shoes.

The next hour was spent dividing Joey's cache into distributable portions. Fifteen different dealers would be stopping by, as well as a few preferred customers who didn't deal but bought enough product to get “platinum level” treatment. Those platinum customers got a discount on their purchases because they didn't have to go through a dealer to buy. They'd earned their status by keeping quiet, respecting Joey's rules about not using on hotel property, and by always paying up front in cash. He might seem like an idiot, but in truth, he was running a top-notch business. The smart criminals were always the hardest to catch.

Which was why they'd had a hell of a time getting their hands on Lightfoot. Obviously he surrounded himself with equally crafty associates.

Damien spent the next hour handing out product to Joey's dealers and clients, all the while making mental notes about each and every one of them. The dude ran a tight ship and the people who bought from him behaved like professionals. A few of them were dirty and already high enough to raise a brow, but for the most part, they handed over their money, took their backpacks full of product, and left. By ten o'clock, Damien had handed out over half of Joey's weekend supply, and he wouldn't be seeing the other half of his customers until tomorrow night.

Silence permeated the air and settled over Damien's skin like shrink-wrap, squeezing all of the oxygen from his lungs. He let out a gust of breath and cracked his neck as he stretched it from side to side. It was too goddamned hot in the room. Too stifling. The walls were slowly closing in on him. If he didn't get some fresh air, he was going to snap.

He snatched the key card from the table and hung a Do Not Disturb tag on the door as he closed it behind him, as an indicator to any of Joey's clients that they should wait in the hallway. Unwilling to be cooped up in another small space, he took the stairs down to the ground floor and left through the side exit that Tabitha had left unlocked. As the cool night air met his lungs, Damien inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he stretched his arms high above him. A cloud of steam billowed in front of him on the exhale. Early winter wasn't exactly balmy in Idaho, but the cold had never bothered him.

“What part of
no
do you not understand?”

The words echoed across the parking lot, spoken with a mixture of anger and anxiety. Damien recognized the speaker in an instant and walked toward the sound of Tabitha's voice. He found her standing next to an older model Toyota 4Runner, both hands on the door handle. Beside her, Joey's friend Tony held the door closed, one meaty arm caging her in while his free hand fiddled with the short strands of her hair.

“Quit being such a frigid snatch. I know you like to party. Joey said you're the best piece of ass he ever had. I don't see a problem here. It's not like you're with him anymore.”

Damien's temper surfaced in a wave of heat that seared through his veins with every beat of his heart. What sort of low-life son of a bitch talked that way about his girlfriend? Ex or not. And had Joey indicated that Tabitha was one of the perks offered to his customers? A free sample that you got when you spent over a thousand dollars? She obviously wasn't down with that, and she shoved against the asshole who'd just picked a backpack up from Damien not five minutes ago.

“Not if you were the last man on the planet, Tony. Get away from me and take your hands off of my car door before I call the cops. I doubt Joey would want them taking a look inside your backpack.”

Damien picked up his pace to a slow jog. Tony let out a loud bark of laughter. “As if you'd call the cops. As long as Joey has Seth by the balls, you aren't going to do shit.”

He leaned in and Tabitha abandoned her struggle to open the car door, to push against Tony's unwelcome advance. Damien swooped in and grabbed the asshole by the collar of his jacket, spinning him away. He slammed him up against the 4Runner with enough force to rattle the bastard's teeth and braced his forearm against Tony's throat.

“I know you aren't tryin' to start shit in this parking lot when you know the rules, right?” He forced the words through clenched teeth and increased the pressure on Tony's throat until his breath wheezed in and out of his lungs. “Because if that was the case, you wouldn't be doing business here anymore. And you know better than to fuck up a good thing. Right?”

Tony's eyes bugged out of his head as he struggled to free himself from Damien's grasp. He choked up tighter and the bastard's face grew red under the fluorescent lights that illuminated the parking lot.

“Answer me, or I swear to God, I won't think twice about snapping your skinny-ass neck.”

He let up on the pressure and Tony squeaked out, “Right. Right. I was just playing. Giving Tabs a hard time.” His words were spoken with all the desperation of a coward. Tony was obviously only as tough as he perceived his opponent weak. Damien towered over him and had a good fifty pounds on the smaller man. Tony knew he was outgunned.

“Apologize,” Damien ground out.

“I-I'm sorry, Tabs. I was just giving you a hard time.”

Damien leaned in close, his words for Tony's ears alone. “If you so much as look at her again, I swear to Christ I will
end
you. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah. Of course, man. Loud and clear.”

Damien released him with a shove. “Get the fuck outta here and go move some merchandise. Or I'll make sure you don't get another ounce.”

Tony nodded in response and hiked the backpack up on his shoulder as he turned to leave. He massaged his throat, muttering something under his breath. Empty threats, no doubt. Tonight wasn't the first time some low-life SOB had cursed Damien, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. No matter what Tabitha's role in Joey's operation was, she didn't deserve to be treated like community property.

Residual anger and adrenaline still burned through Damien's veins and for a moment, he wished that Tony had put up more of a fight. The sight of his hands on Tabitha, his fingers teasing the strands of her hair, had sent Damien into a rage that he didn't understand. Further proof that his head wasn't right even after a few months' worth of therapy sessions. He had no business being back out in the field.

None.

 

 

Tabitha leaned against the hood of her 4Runner, her breath stalled somewhere between her sternum and her mouth. Fear turned quickly to awe as she watched Damien throw that slimeball Tony up against her car, his forearm like a log lodged against the smaller man's throat. No one had ever stood up for her like that before. Not even Joey, who used to sit back and snicker when guys hassled her, as if he found her distress entertaining.

She had no idea what Damien had whispered in Tony's ear, but Tony looked like he was about to pee his pants. And honestly, Tabitha wouldn't have blamed him. Damien's display only served to solidify her opinion that he was, in fact, far more dangerous than Joey or any of the wannabe thugs he hung out with.

“Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?”

The natural growl of his voice vibrated through every inch of Tabitha's body and she suddenly felt too flushed despite the chill in the air. “I'm okay.” She pushed herself away from her car and hugged the two halves of her coat closer together. “Tony's bark is worse than his bite. I've fielded worse from him before.”

His gaze darkened at the admission and Tabitha almost felt sorry for anyone his anger might be directed toward. “You shouldn't be keeping company with guys like that.”

“What about you? Should you be keeping company with guys like that?”

He hid any reaction to her words behind an impassive mask. Why? Most gangster types wore their associations like a badge of honor. Tabitha got the impression that those relationships embarrassed Damien.

“Buy a can of pepper spray,” Damien said. “If you're leaving work this late all the time, you should have the canister in your hand before you even walk out the door.”

Tabitha wondered at his concern. “You're probably right. Especially with Joey's asshole low-life friends hanging around.”

Damien looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. A car pulled into the far end of the parking lot and cut the engine. No doubt another of Joey's customers after their score. His gaze followed hers and a scowl marred his expression. “Does that asshole know where you live?”

“Tony? No. No one knows where I live.” Not even Joey. After they'd broken up, she moved from her apartment so he wouldn't be able to drop by unannounced, and it made her feel a little safer.

His brow arched with curiosity “Not even Joey?”

What did he care? She barely knew Damien. “I think you have a customer.” She indicated the car that was sitting in the parking lot with the engine running. “Thanks for handling Tony for me. I appreciate it.”

Damien took two steps toward her, the bulk of his large frame towering over her. She didn't feel crowded or intimidated in his presence, though God knows she should have. Instead, a jolt of excitement shot through her bloodstream as her heart beat wildly in her chest. He reached up, the motion abrupt, and brushed her hair away from her face as though he couldn't resist. A riot of butterflies took flight in Tabitha's stomach, swirling and soaring at the simple contact.

And just as abruptly, he turned away. Stalking across the parking lot with an angry stride that prompted the pleasant butterflies in her stomach to duck for cover. Was he angry? With her? What in the hell just happened?

“Who's Seth?” He turned to face her, not ten feet from her car.

Suspicion crept up her spine like an early morning frost. “My brother,” she said. “Why?”

“Go straight home, Tabitha. And if Tony gives you any more trouble, I want to know about it.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned and took off toward the hotel, his body rolling with the cautious gait of a skilled predator. In the distance, a door slammed as whatever nasty drug dealer Joey sent over there got out of his car to follow Damien inside the hotel. Tabitha let out the breath she'd been holding in an attempt to calm her trembling limbs.

Her skull tingled from the brief contact of Damien's fingers in her hair. The warmth of his body still occupied the space where he'd stood, close enough for her to touch. She reached for the door handle and pulled against the weight of the door. Tony had scared the shit out of her. She'd played it off for Damien's benefit, unwilling for him to see any weakness in her. But the truth was that he'd always scared her, and despite Joey's warnings, she knew he'd sampled some of whatever was in his backpack before making his way to her car.