by Mandy Baxter
Chapter Three
For the past week Damien had been trolling the local bars, eavesdropping on conversations, keeping his eye out for potential targets. Tonight, he was at Liquid, one of downtown’s newest “it” places. The Boise PD’s Bandit task force had given him the name and background of a well-known dealer they’d busted a couple of weeks ago. And with the guy currently spending time in the Ada County jail, Damien was free to name-drop a little.
“So, how you know my man Tanner?” The guy shooting pool—Damien was pretty sure his name was Joey—took a swig from his bottle of Budweiser before leaning over to aim his stick.
“We did a stint together up at Sheridan. ’Bout five years ago.”
“They throw guys into the federal pen for holding a couple of ounces of weed, huh?”
“Nah,” Damien replied, taking the bait. He would have been surprised if Joey hadn’t tried to test him. “But they do when you get pinched with fifteen pounds of Salmon River Quiver in your trunk.”
Joey made a quick pocket shot and straightened, leaning against the table while his buddy lined up his stick for a bank shot. “That ain’t no shit, man. Fucking Tanner. I told that stupid motherfucker he was gonna get caught hauling all that weed around in his car.” He laughed as though reliving a fond memory. “I heard he got picked up again last week. Fool doesn’t know how to be discreet.”
Damien took a sip from his 7 and 7. “That’s the fucking truth. I’m not even gonna try to bail his ass out this time. I’m outta work because of him, and even if he does get out, I’m done with his ass. He’ll have way too much heat on him after this.”
“You looking to sling?”
This was why Damien always hit up potential connections in bars. Get enough liquor in a guy’s system and he did most of the work for you. It took half the time to earn someone’s trust when he had a fifth of Jack coursing through his veins. He had a feeling that everybody was Joey’s best friend and confidant when he got shitfaced. “Could be. You have product to move?”
Joey flashed him a crooked smile. “Could be.”
Damien had broken the ice; now it was time to back off. If he pressed for more information or acted too eager, it might make Joey suspicious. From here on out, all Damien had to do was play the part and wait for Joey to come to him with an offer. Lucky for Damien, Joey had an ego. The cocky ones were always easier to hook. Way too eager to show off and throw their weight around. It worked to his advantage though, so Damien wasn’t about to complain.
Damien drained his glass and ordered another, plus a couple of beers for his new friends as they racked up the balls for another game. He was still a little on edge from his last session with Dr. Meyers. It really fucked up his mind-set when he had to get too in touch with his emotions. Especially since he’d confessed to her during their last session that he wanted out of undercover work. He was ready for a real life and some fucking stability for a change. Maybe even a relationship. His mind wandered to the hotel manager and his fingers curled around his glass in a tight grip. He couldn’t wait to see her again.
“Hey, Joey, your ex just walked in.”
Damien’s curiosity got the better of him and he turned to where the gazes of the two men had zeroed in on a couple of women with their backs turned, making their way toward the bar. Beside him, Joey set the pool cue down on the felt table and took a long pull from his beer, his eyes glazing over as he stared. Seedy sons of bitches like Joey were part of the reason why Damien was itching to get out of undercover work. He almost felt sorry for any woman unfortunate enough to get his attention, but then again, considering the type of guy Joey was, Damien assumed his ex couldn’t be that much classier.
“Damn, dude. Tabs still has a fine ass. I can’t believe you’re not hittin’ that anymore.”
Damien cast a quick glance at Joey’s friend. He was a class act.
“Bitch is more trouble than she’s worth,” Joey replied. “But she does have a fine ass.”
The ogling was beginning to make Damien feel more than a little uncomfortable. He liked to admire a beautiful woman as much as the next guy, but Joey and his buddy were simply leering. Nasty.
“So get this.” Joey leaned in conspiratorially. God, Damien hoped the dude wasn’t about to tell him some kinky sex story. “Tabs works at this hotel a few blocks from here. Before we broke up, I got her to let me use a suite on the weekends to do business out of. I can move twice the product with no nosy-ass neighbors wondering why there’s always so many cars parked at my place. Plus, I’m not shitting where I eat. The cops aren’t going to ever find anything at my place, so I’m clean. Sweet setup, right?”
Yeah, it was. Which proved that Joey wasn’t quite as stupid as Damien had initially given him credit for and that he was definitely the guy he’d been looking for. “If your name is on the registry, the cops can trace you that way, though.”
“I got that covered, too. I use the name of a fake roofing company and I only pay cash. Tabs is the assistant manager, so she handles the reservations and she can cover my tracks if I need her to. I’m telling you, man, it’s fucking brilliant. I’m bringing in twice as much coin as I used to.”
Well, Damien’s opinion of Joey’s ex just dropped another ten points. “All it takes is a nosy guest or a too-loud customer to bring a hell storm down on you, though.”
“Truth,” Joey remarked. He turned his attention back to the pool table and picked up his cue stick to break. “I don’t dick around with my clientele. You can’t keep your shit straight, I don’t sell to you. Period. Plus, no one is allowed to use on the property. They’ve got to take that shit somewhere else. Tabs is trained. If anyone complains, she comps them a free night or some shit to make them happy.”
Joey’s friend butted in. “Yeah, until she graduates and quits that place.”
“She’s not allowed to quit and she knows it. Besides, at the rate she’s going, she’s not gonna graduate for another year or more.”
The smart-ass yukked it up from the other side of the table and Damien made it a point to get the guy’s last name. He’d be running a background check on his ass the first chance he got. “You worried that her boss might catch on?”
“Not really. My crew always comes in when she’s on shift. When we check out in the morning, my guys are dressed like they’re ready to hit a job site. My roofing company”—he waggled his brows—“is a regular customer there. And the IdaHaven treats their regulars really well.”
Damien’s heart stuttered mid-beat and his breath stalled out. Damn it. “Did you say the IdaHaven? Dude, I stayed there last fucking week. Crazy.”
“You really ought to see the operation in action, man,” the friend—Tony something—piped in again. “It’s a thing of beauty.”
“I’d like that.” The words left his mouth mechanically, but Damien was already scanning the crowd for the woman Joey had identified as his ex.
“I bet you would.” Joey smirked before turning to his buddy. “Hey, jackass, it’s your turn. What in the hell are you waiting for?”
Damien all but ignored the game as his gaze found a petite blonde with a crooked bobbed haircut. Tabs. Tabitha. Obviously a nickname for the hotel manager he’d met a week ago. Disappointment soured his stomach at the realization that not only had his first impression of her been wrong, but that she was an accessory to a crime. Granted, his only interaction with her had been that one time, but he’d felt a connection. And that didn’t happen to Damien often. He tipped back his glass and drained the fresh 7 and 7 in a couple of guzzles. What had he expected? He was on assignment, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he had time for dating, and even if he had, no woman in her right mind wanted damaged goods like him. He’d straddled the line between criminal and cop for far too long. And now, there was nowhere he fit in, and no one with whom he truly belonged.
“Is Joey still staring at us?” Tabitha sat with her head bowed, allowing the short strands of her hair to curtain her face. “I swear to God, Lila, if he
doesn’t leave pretty soon, I’m out of here.”
“Relax.” Lila grabbed her gin and tonic as well as Tabitha’s vodka soda and pulled her friend away from the bar and closer to the dance floor. “If he looks this way again, I will kick that sick bastard square in his nuts. That’ll get him out the door.”
Tabitha chanced a quick look behind her at Joey and his friend Tony, who’d gone back to playing pool. Her step faltered as her gaze landed on the hulking form of Damien Evans, the star of her dreams and her every waking fantasy for the past week. Her heart took a nosedive into her stomach and a burst of anxious energy dumped into her bloodstream. She’d recognized him in an instant, her body perking up like a flower under the sun at the sight of him. But her reaction withered the moment realization sunk in. If he was hanging out with Joey and Tony, Damien was definitely up to no good. What was wrong with her? She was a total loser magnet. If she was attracted to a man, you could bet he had a criminal record—or was at least on the road to having one. And the worst part of seeing him with Joey wasn’t that it proved he was just another slimeball. It was that he didn’t look even a little out of place. In fact, with his bulky frame, tattoos, and the deep, serious crease marring his brow, he gave off the vibe that he was an even higher level of criminal than Joey and his idiot friend, which was saying something.
Most of Joey’s friends made Tabitha’s lip curl when they walked into the room. As though all of the showers in the world could do nothing to wash the layer of slime and nastiness from their bodies. Despite his rough exterior, Damien lacked that oily, clingy dark aura. Tabitha reconsidered her earlier assessment of him. It wasn’t that Damien appeared to be the most seasoned criminal of the group. Rather, he was without a doubt the most dangerous-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on.
And why did that make her heart beat a little faster? Heat the blood in her veins? Why in God’s name would that turn her on even a little? There was clearly something seriously wrong with her. Tabitha suspected that beneath the tattoos, the shaggy light brown hair that was meant to look unkempt, and the stubble of his jaw—which was more like a ten o’clock shadow than five—was a complicated man who fought with his demons because he wanted more than the life he’d found himself in.
Yeah, right. Tabitha turned her attention from the pool table and focused once again on Lila. That romantic, optimistic outlook was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. Always giving people the benefit of the doubt, looking for that silver lining on even the darkest of clouds. She’d been convinced that Joey was a good guy beneath his rough exterior and poor choices. How wrong she’d been. And now, after they’d been broken up for almost a year, it was Tabitha who was losing sleep over the fact that he was still a fixture in her life, while Joey reaped the benefits of having her in his.
She guzzled her drink in a few swallows. Boise was small as cities went, but it still pissed her off that she couldn’t even go out for the evening without running into her ex. She refused to let him scare her away, though. If Lila could blow reality off in favor of a good time, so could Tabitha.
“Incoming, two o’clock,” Lila said close to her ear.
Tabitha’s stomach clenched at the prospect of having to make small talk with a guy. She’d sworn off the bar scene as a means to meet men after the nightmare that was her relationship with Joey. “Not interested.”
Lila ran her fingers through the length of her straight, auburn hair. “You’ve got to get back in the saddle sometime, Tabs. You haven’t dated in a year. I’m sexually frustrated on your behalf.”
“Coming from the woman who hasn’t dated in almost as long.”
Lila flashed her a lopsided grin. “But that’s not to say I haven’t been looking. I just have a very strict catch-and-release rule. Unfortunately, the dating pool has been full of minnows lately. I’m baiting for shark.”
That was the truth. Lila wasn’t shallow by any means and the woman was as shrewd as they came. Sure, she let her dad pay her rent, but Lila had plans for her life, and with a business degree under her belt, she was ready to launch a line of to-die-for handbags in the next year. Likewise, she wasn’t about to waste her time on a man-child who aspired to nothing more than working minimum wage jobs and camping out on his buddies’ couches. She was looking for a partner. An equal. But just because she’d baited for shark, didn’t mean she wasn’t doing a little sport fishing for some of those minnows in the meantime.
“What’s up, ladies? Can I buy you two a couple of drinks?”
Mister Two O’clock stepped up to them, all charm and smiles. Tabitha had to admit, he was sort of cute: blond, blue eyes, clean-cut and wearing a nice dress shirt and slacks. Her gaze wandered to his feet, because a guy’s shoes said a lot about him. Leather loafers. This one might actually be gainfully employed. Huh. Wonders never ceased.
“Well, aren’t you a cutie,” Lila said with a slow smile. She extended her hand and he took it in a brief shake. “I’m Lila.”
“Charlie.”
He didn’t do anything cheesy like kiss Lila’s hand, earning him a couple of points. Tabitha accepted his proffered hand and said, “Tabitha. Nice to meet you.”
“Okay, girls. What are we drinking? I had a stellar day at work and I need someone to help me celebrate.”
Lila’s gaze warmed. It didn’t take much for Tabitha to make the decision to back off and let her friend take the lead. Maybe the currents had changed and the bigger fish had finally come to the surface from the deep water. “Ooh, tell us all about it.” Lila snatched a tall, circular table that skirted the dance floor and made room for Charlie in-between her and Tabitha.
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 p
layers 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.”
