by Mandy Baxter
“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 h
im? “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?
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.
