One Touch More (8 page)

She pushed the meat aside and picked at her steamed vegetables instead. No way was she eating a baby cow. When their server finally came around, she ordered a vodka soda. Wine wasn't going to cut it anymore. Her limbs were deliciously limp, her hands still a little shaky from her tight grip on the comforter. She glanced over at Josh and noticed that his lips were moving, but once again, her brain wasn't registering. Her mind was full of Damien; there wasn't room for anything else.

“. . . and I told her that if she thought we were going to refund her money, she was crazy. I mean, we're an investment firm, for Christ's sake. Not Macy's. It wasn't my fault if she chose to invest in a stock that I suggested. It's not like I twisted her arm . . .”

On and on he went, proving with every ridiculous, arrogant, self-centered word out of his mouth that Josh would never get to date number two. For the past year she'd convinced herself that she needed to follow in Lila's footsteps, look for a guy in a nice suit with a respectable day job and the paycheck to back up his reputation. But the more time she spent listening to Charlie and Josh go on, and on, and
on
, tooting their own horns, the more she realized that guys like that were never, ever going to do it for her.

None of them compared to the man she'd left behind in that hotel room.

None of them were Damien.

“Let's go across the street to Fatty's after dinner,” Lila suggested. “The music is better over there and I want to dance.”

“Sounds great,” Josh said as he sliced off a hunk of his steak. “I bet you're a great dancer, aren't you, Tabitha?”

She couldn't even bring herself to smile this time. “Not really. But that's not to say I don't give it my best effort. You could say my style is a cross between a wacky flailing-inflatable-arm tube man and Sweet Dee from
It's Always Sunny
.”

Josh's brow puckered. Her humor was lost on him. Just another indicator that he wasn't the guy for her. Their dinner conversation dwindled and Tabitha focused on finishing as much of her meal as she could stomach. Later, as they filtered out of the Piper Grill, Josh put his hand on the small of her back and she bristled at the contact. After one encounter, her body had been fine-tuned to Damien's touch.

She was officially ruined.

Chapter Eight

Damien shoved open the window and the heavy curtains billowed with the influx of cool air. The wind had picked up and the room filled with the crisp scent of early snow. Clean and sweet. Just like Tabitha.

The weekend had officially come to a close. The last of Cavello's drugs were sold and that left Damien with nothing but his tortured thoughts to keep him company. Oh, and the raging hard-on that had yet to go the fuck away. A chill brought goose bumps to the surface of his skin, but aside from the mild discomfort, the drop in temperature did nothing to cool his lust. He grumbled a curse under his breath and toed off his boots. Stripped off his shirt. Shucked his jeans and underwear. He glared down at his erection and stalked toward the bathroom. Instead of swiveling the shower knob to hot, he left the water cold and stepped directly under the spray. A sharp intake of air lodged in his chest, but he refused to turn up the heat or step away from the cold stream of water.

And still, the stiff bastard between his legs stuck around to taunt him.

Icy rivulets of water sluiced down his body and Damien's muscles tensed. His nipples tightened and he found the sensation pleasurable rather than uncomfortable. What would it feel like to have Tabitha's teeth graze his nipples? Maybe even the head of his cock? Nothing short of a bullet through the heart was going to calm him down at this point. His senses were still awash with her: her scent, the softness of her skin, the sound of her impassioned cries in his ears.

Damien reached down and took the heavy length of his erection in his hand. His thumb brushed the engorged and sensitive head and he shuddered, sending droplets of water rolling down his abs and thighs. He stroked down to the base and back up, imagining that he was pumping into her and not his own goddamned hand. A haze of want clouded his thoughts and Damien thrust again, his pace increasing as he worked his fist over his erection. He braced his arm against the shower wall, a low moan vibrating through him as he came in violent spasms that brought him to one knee.

Christ. A couple of pumps and he'd come all over the fucking shower. Pathetic.

Pushing himself to stand, Damien reached back and turned the knob to the left. The water began to warm and some of the tension left his body, though his legs were still weak and felt like cooked noodles. Steam billowed around him, matching the fog that clouded his thoughts. Tabitha had blindsided him. An unexpected complication that he could never have planned for. He'd never wanted any woman with the sort of desperate, primal need that had driven him to behave so rashly with her. With a groan, Damien knocked his forehead against the wall. He'd treated her with so little respect, bending her over the bed without so much as an attempt at seduction.

But she'd come so easily for him. Shattered under his touch like myriad shards of glass. She'd wanted him, too. He hadn't imagined her eager response.

Damien finished up his shower and dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist as he left the bathroom. The in-room phone rang, a loud digital trill that set him instantly on edge. No one should be calling the room. Cavello had his burner number and Gates knew to keep his distance when Damien was undercover. He lifted the receiver from the cradle and took a deep breath before bringing it up to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Did you order a wakeup call for the morning?”

Damien let out a slow breath as he recognized Bill Crawford's voice on the other end of the line. His SOG supervisor rarely called when he was undercover, but if he needed to reach out, they had ways of getting around suspicious eavesdroppers. “No, thanks, I've got an alarm set,” he replied, letting the other man know it was safe to talk.

“Good to know I haven't caught you at a bad time, Evans.”

Aside from being alone in the room, Damien had swept the entire space for bugs and was confident that Joey wasn't eavesdropping. Thank God. Otherwise what had happened between him and Tabitha earlier would have made for an awkward working relationship. “What's up?”

“Dennis Callihan says you're making good progress up there.” Crawford had a reputation as a hard-ass, but Damien liked him. Ball-busters got the job done, and his success rate was damned near perfect. He wanted Lightfoot as badly as Damien did. An arrest would be a huge win for the Marshals Service.

“I think so. Nothing on Lightfoot yet, but I'm in with his distributor.”

“That's good, Evans. You're definitely moving ahead of our timetable. The DOJ has intel that Lightfoot is readying a market in Northern California. The demand for Stardust is snowballing and the deaths are piling up. With all of the interagency effort going into this case, everyone agrees that we want this crap off the streets as soon as possible.”

“Agreed.” Synthetic shit could be damned dangerous. But the worst part of the synthetic trade was that it was dirt cheap and easy for kids to get their hands on. It was imperative to get Stardust off the streets before it became an epidemic. “Boise PD is working with me to give the distributor a wide berth for the time being. But as soon as I get a bead on Lightfoot, we'll be shutting his operation down.”

“Good. The federal prosecutor wants the takedown on this to have a long reach. That means as many arrests as you can manage. I want anyone with a connection to the distributor arrested. This is going to be a zero-tolerance situation. The government is bringing the hammer down on this one. Not only to send a message to all of the other Lightfoots out there, but to the small-time dealers who think they'll make money on his heels in the synthetic trade.”

“Understood.” Damien's heart rocketed up into this throat before taking a nosedive straight to his gut. “I'll brief Callihan and Ryan Gates Monday morning on what I've got so far. Is there anything you'd like me to include when I talk to them?”

“No, I'll be talking to Callihan next week. Just keep doing what you're doing. And be careful out there, Parker.”

Damien ended the call without responding. There was more to Crawford's words than a simple concern for his safety. He'd worked most of his undercover assignments under Crawford's supervision, and the SOG supervisory director knew better than anyone—except for maybe Dr. Meyers—about the blurred lines between Damien's life and Parker's.

The backs of his legs met the mattress and Damien collapsed on the bed as a rush of breath vacated his lungs. He'd told Gates, Callihan, and the Boise PD about Tabitha's involvement in Cavello's operation. By providing him with a place to do business, she was more than just an accessory. The federal prosecutor could bring a list of charges against her: conspiracy, racketeering, trafficking, aiding and abetting . . .
Jesus
.

He flung himself back on the bed and his foot knocked something across the carpeting. He pushed himself up, his brow furrowed at the sight of the cell phone he'd catapulted across the room, resting not far from the discarded canister of pepper spray.
What the hell?
Leaning over the edge of the bed, he scooped the cell into his grasp. He propped himself up on the pillows, and unlocked the screen.

Two faces stared back at him in a wallpaper selfie. One was Tabitha, and she had her arms around a guy with the same golden hair and deep blue eyes. They could have been twins, their features were so similar. The phone must have fallen from her pocket earlier. Damien's lungs seized up as he thought back to their encounter, but he forbade himself from revisiting it. It was either that or another cold shower, and he wasn't interested in freezing his dick off to keep it from getting hard.

For a moment he stared at the picture. It didn't take an investigative mastermind to know that she didn't belong in the world she'd found herself in. Damien's instincts were razor sharp. He could read people with ease, and Tabitha was an open book. But until he got to the bottom of how she'd wound up an accomplice to Joey's distribution operation, there was nothing he could do but continue to investigate her like she was any other suspect.

Sitting in the palm of his hand was a virtual trove of information. Text messages, call logs, pictures, and the history of any websites she might have visited in the past week or longer; the apps she used most, the apps she'd used most recently, and any GPS information that might have been logged in the maps app.

A peek into the life of Tabitha Martin. Rather than feeling like a cop doing investigative work, delving into the contents of her cell phone made Damien feel more like a voyeur. She'd reached level 349 of
Candy Crush
and amassed a small fortune in coins playing
Bejeweled Blitz
. She used Snapchat, and her In-stagram account showcased pictures of downtown Boise, various meals, and a photo of her wearing scrubs and inserting a large needle into someone's arm with the caption, “First stick was a success!”

Was she training to be an EMT? Or maybe a nurse? And if so, what was she still doing working at this hotel, helping Joey Cavello to peddle his nasty shit all over the city? There was more to her than met the eye. He stood by the assertion that she had no choice but to do as Joey asked. And he was positive it had to do with her brother, Seth. Could he be the guy in the picture with her?

Or was he simply making excuses for her? Grasping at straws because of this inexplicable want he felt for her? Was his career worth taking a risk on someone who might burn him in the long run? And if so, would he even care?

 

 

“Shut the front door! You did
not
!” Dave's scandalized tone had nothing on the excitement that lit his green eyes. He loved gossip as much as he loved muscle-laden, tattooed bad boys. Tabitha had effectively gifted him with the gossip equivalent of Tom Hardy.

“I'm weak, Dave. So,
so
weak. And apparently a little slutty, too.” She hadn't gone into detail about her encounter with Damien, but gave Dave just enough information to give him a well-rounded idea of what had happened. Lila would judge her. Dave on the other hand . . . he shared her weakness for guys that were no-good. She could find solidarity with him. “I couldn't help myself. It was like I was a starving woman and he was a bacon cheeseburger.”

“Oh, I can think of several juicy bits on his body to bite. Tabs, you are the most unslutty woman I know. But seriously, can I just interject here and say that I'm totally disappointed that my dream man is hetero? Though I'm not surprised. He was giving you a hard-core vibe the first time he laid eyes on you, and I bet he was sporting a chub the size of a VW bus.”

“Dave!”

“Tell me. He's impressive, right? I'm dying to know.”

“I don't know . . .” Tabitha cast her gaze down toward her desk. “We didn't exactly get to him.”

“Shut. Up!” Dave all but shoved her in his excitement. “Are you telling me he's a giver?”

“He was
very
generous.”

Dave made a show of collapsing on the front desk's counter. “Forget my earlier disappointment. I'm officially devastated.”

“Hi, Tabitha. Come on in.”

Tabitha exchanged a look with Dave as the general manager, Sandy Webber, opened the door to her office. “Good luck,” he said under his breath and knocked his knuckles against hers.

Nervous energy pooled in Tabitha's stomach, sending a burst of adrenaline through her body. She felt a little light-headed and wasn't even sure if she'd be able to form a coherent thought. When she got the call that Sandy wanted to see her this morning, she could think of only one reason why: someone had ratted her out and Sandy knew about Joey's weekend escapades. In which case, she was officially screwed.

“Have a seat.”

Tabitha closed the door behind her and took a chair in front of Sandy's desk. They usually had a pretty casual work relationship, so her formal tone wasn't doing much to assuage Tabitha's fears.
Crap
. “What's up?” She tried to keep the quaver from her voice, but she couldn't help it. At this point, she was doing her damnedest not to throw up all over Sandy's desk.

“First of all, thanks for coming in on a Sunday. But since I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, I wanted to get all of my ducks in a row beforehand. You're the acting GM next week, so I want to double check that your school schedule won't be disrupted.”

A trickle of tension drained from Tabitha's muscles. If this was a pre-vacation check-off, she could breathe easy. “I'm good. I finished up my finals last week, and aside from a CPR and first responder refresher that I signed up for over the break, I'm available. I've already got it worked out with Dave, and he's agreed to field any issues that might crop up while I'm doing the refreshers.”

“Great.” Sandy gave her a reassuring smile and she relaxed another degree. “I'm sure Dave can handle anything that comes up, too.”

There was a pregnant pause and Tabitha shifted in her seat. The nerves that had abated jacked back up and she was pretty sure she could taste bile at the back of her throat. “Did you need anything else?”

“I did.” Sandy's expression was much too grave. Heat rose to Tabitha's cheeks and she tried to control the speed of her shallow breaths and racing heart. “We had a noise complaint last night from the guests in room 502. Lots of coming and going late into the night, some pounding on the walls and door. I checked the system and the room next to that is the one we put the HiTop Roofing guys in. I know that they're your account and that they do a lot of business here, but we don't have anything to worry about with them, do we?”

Tabitha was willing to bet that some of that door and wall banging was going on right about the time she and Damien had been interrupted. Was it possible for someone's face to catch fire from embarrassment? Because she was pretty sure hers was beginning to smoke from the heat. “As far as I know, this is the first complaint, and they stay with us consistently.”