by Mandy Baxter
“Come on now, Tabitha. Don’t be shy.” Gerald’s tone was no longer playful or even moderately pleasant. The order was firm and promised retribution if she didn’t obey. In front of her, Damien stiffened. What was he waiting for? Where were the troops? Did he need some sort of visual confirmation? Surely Damien knew what Gerald Lightfoot looked like. Her gaze slid to Seth and his furrowed brow urged her forward.
Joey’s lips puckered into a superior sneer as she left the protection that Damien offered and approached the man who’d been her parents’ friend, business partner, dealer, enabler, and undoing. Gerald kept one hand on Seth as he wrapped Tabitha in his embrace, the smell of stale cigarette smoke causing her to gag. He disgusted her. Gerald kissed Tabitha on the temple and she recoiled from his touch. A hoarse, almost wet chuckle rumbled in his chest. Ew. The man was the poster child for why years of smoking, drinking, and drug use was a bad idea.
“I gotta say, you two kids are more trouble than you’re worth.” Gerald’s fingers dug into Tabitha’s shoulder and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Dark shadows hid Damien’s face, but Tabitha knew by the way his hands were balled into fists that he was barely hanging on to his temper. Seeing the situation from this new angle, Tabitha knew why Damien hadn’t called in the cavalry. Gerald now had in his possession two human shields. Insurance in case shit went south. Oh God.
“I don’t like handlin’ business myself,” Gerald remarked. “Which is why I trusted Seth to set me up with someone I could depend on.” His fingers worked on Tabitha’s shoulder, kneading the flesh with too much force. “People who cross me usually die before any questions get to be asked. But since you kids are like family to me, I’m willing to hear you out. So, sis. What sort of trouble did you and your old man over there make for me?”
Joey obviously hadn’t wasted any time ratting her out when he was caught empty-handed. What an asshole.
“Whatever Cavello told you is a lie.” Damien took a step forward and Gerald leveled the massive revolver at his head.
“I don’t remember asking you to say a goddamned thing. But since you’re so interested in jumping right in, let’s get down to brass tacks. Who the fuck do you think you are, son? And where the fuck is my product?”
“Gerald—”
He squeezed the nerve between Tabitha’s neck and shoulder and a jolt of pain shot down her right side. “Quiet, sis. Your old man wants to tell me something.”
“Yeah, I do.” Damien’s voice was a controlled burn, every syllable forced through his teeth. “I’ll be more than happy to talk to you about your missing product. But not until you let Seth and Tabitha go.”
Dry laughter answered Damien’s request. “These are my kids. And they’re right where they belong.”
“Evans, say the word and we’ll move in.”
Gates’s voice in his earpiece was a distraction Damien didn’t need. Lightfoot hadn’t slipped through their fingers time and again because he was an idiot. Though he doubted his cover had been blown, Damien knew that Lightfoot was wary of him. Anyone who’d been on the run for almost a decade would be. Gates was as antsy as a kid in line at an amusement park, ready to fire the cannons and storm the castle. But Damien wasn’t willing to risk Tabitha’s or Seth’s safety. Lightfoot was using them as a human shield. The son of a bitch wouldn’t think twice before shoving either one of them in the path of an oncoming bullet.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Damien all but growled. “All that matters is who I’m with. You think Tabitha would steal from you?”
“That’s a good question.”
Beside Gerald, Joey squared his shoulders. Yeah, the bastard was only tough when he was bullying a woman or standing next to someone who could back his play. He leaned toward Lightfoot’s ear and said, “If he’s so trustworthy, why did Seth show up with a gun on this asshole?”
Gerald turned to Seth. “That true, son?”
Tabitha’s expression soured at the endearment. Her discomfort with that man did nothing but further rile Damien’s temper. Prison was too good for Lightfoot. The bastard would be better off dead.
“It’s true.” Seth’s words carried the slightest quaver. “I didn’t know who to trust so I thought I’d better cover all of my bases.”
“I’ll tell you who to trust, son. Me.”
Gerald’s arm left Seth’s shoulder and swung around until the revolver crossed right in front of Tabitha’s face. He pulled the trigger and the shot rang out like thunder. Joey Cavello crumpled to the ground like tissue paper, the point-blank shot to the chest killing him in an instant.
Tabitha clasped her hands over her ears. Damien lunged forward to grab her as her knees buckled, but Gerald refused to let her fall, hugging her body tight against his. “Oh my God!” The words burst from her in a breathless, frantic gasp. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”
“Quiet, sis.” Gerald gave Tabitha a rough shake and her frantic sobs ceased, muffled as she brought her hands to her mouth. She looked at Damien with wide, disbelieving eyes, every inch of her trembling violently. “See what happens when you trifle with men’s hearts? They don’t think straight. Your ex couldn’t manage his shit like a man’s s’posed to. Couldn’t keep your sassy ass in line. Now he’s dead.” Gerald leveled the revolver on Damien and added, “One down, one to go.”
“No!”
Tabitha shot upright and grabbed Gerald by the shirt. “Don’t. Don’t kill him, Gerald. Damien didn’t do anything. He didn’t steal anything from you. I didn’t steal anything from you. You’re right, Joey didn’t manage his people but Damien isn’t the problem. I promise.”
Damien hated to see her beg that piece of shit for anything. Fear widened her eyes, thinned her lips, and hollowed her cheeks. Her chest heaved with quickened breath.
“Evans, we’re moving in.”
“Wait.”
He let the word hang. It could have been spoken to Lightfoot, though Gates would know the command was meant for him. Seth took a slow sliding step away from Lightfoot and then another. It only put inches between them, but any ground gained was good. Damien couldn’t save them both, and if he chose Tabitha’s safety over her brother’s, he knew she’d never forgive him.
“Let’s get somethin’ straight right now.” Lightfoot pulled back the hammer. “I don’t wait for anyone.”
As though Tabitha and Seth were communicating via telepathy, they both acted at once. Seth knocked Lightfoot’s arm high in the air as Tabitha used the distraction to spin away. The second shot exploded from the gun just as Damien reached to his back for the 9mm tucked into his waistband. He whipped it around at Lightfoot’s face just as the older man aimed his revolver once again.
Lightfoot smirked. “This is what you call a good old-fashioned standoff.”
Damien shrugged. “Guess so.”
In her haste to get away, Tabitha tripped and landed beside Joey Cavello’s body. Without missing a beat, Lightfoot stomped a booted foot down onto Tabitha’s ankle with enough force to snap it in two. She stifled a scream that ended on a pained sob. “Seth, you do somethin’ stupid like that again, and I’ll make you watch while I skin your sister alive. You understand me, son?”
Seth looked to Damien as though for guidance, but he had to stay focused on Lightfoot.
“No one’s doing shit. Back away from Tabitha and I won’t put a bullet in your chest.”
Lightfoot laughed, the sound like the crackle of dry autumn leaves. “You think you can shoot me before I shoot you? I’ll give it to you, you’ve got a pair on you. So, if you don’t have my product, who the fuck does?”
Damien kept his gun leveled on the other man, his attention divided between Lightfoot and Tabitha. “One of Cavello’s buddies. But since you killed him, I doubt we’ll be able to find your thief now.”
“I don’t need that pissant to find anyone.” His gaze narrowed and he studied Damien as though deconstructing every particle of his being. “You’re a fed, aren’t you?” he asked with a leering smile. “Wha
t are you? FBI? CIA? DEA?” Lightfoot laughed. “Department of Homeland?” He spat to his left. “Seth, you really fucked up this time, hooking me up with a bunch of goddamned pigs.”
It was time to end this shit. Damien took a deep breath and spoke loud and clear. “Bandit.”
Dark forms moved out of the shadows, the U.S. Marshals, Boise PD SWAT, and DEA in full tactical gear, an armory’s worth of weapons leveled on Lightfoot. He lowered his revolver and pointed the weapon at Tabitha this time. “You really wanna take me down so bad you’re willing to risk her pretty neck?”
“Go ahead and pull that trigger.” Damien could barely get the bluff to leave his mouth, he was so fucking scared. “If you do, you’re dead.”
Lightfoot cocked a brow. “So is she.”
“Check your men, Gates,” Damien said. “You copy?”
“I copy,” Gates responded in Damien’s earpiece from wherever he was stationed. “No one’s going to do a goddamned thing. But you need to secure this situation, ASAP. You know we can’t risk him getting away.”
No matter the cost. Damien filled in the blank without Gates having to say a goddamned word.
Lightfoot was caught and he knew it. Killing Tabitha out of spite would be right up the bastard’s alley. If he was going down, he was taking anyone he could with him.
“I hate bullshit, don’t you?” Despite the army of law enforcement surrounding him, Lightfoot kept his eyes glued to Damien. “A man oughta know what he’s up against when he comes face-to-face with his enemies. So, who are you really? It’s all out in the open now. No use bullshitting.”
Damien reached for his badge, tucked into his shirt.
“Careful, son. My trigger finger’s twitchy.”
Slowly, Damien curled his finger around the chain draped from his neck. He pulled the badge from his shirt and let it dangle for Lightfoot’s inspection. “Parker Evans, U.S. Marshals Service. Fugitive Recovery Task Force.”
Lightfoot’s raspy laugher echoed in the quiet. “Tabby Cat, you shacked up with a U.S. fucking marshal?” He kicked at Tabitha’s ankle and she cried out.
If he touched her again, Damien was going to kill the motherfucker with his bare hands.
“Well, Deputy. Here’s where things are going to get interesting. See, I’m not so keen on being arrested today. And since I know better than to show up anywhere in the States without having my exit plan ready to roll, you’re going to call off your fucking pig friends and I’m going to get in my car—with my goddaughter—and you’re not going to do a fuckin’ thing about it. Understand?”
Damien snorted. “It’s not going to happen. You’re outgunned and surrounded. Surrender now and let’s end this peacefully. I’d think you’d rather live another day than die here in the dirt, Lightfoot.”
The man wasn’t even fazed by Damien’s threat, and his lack of fear caused the hairs to prickle on the back of Damien’s neck. Lightfoot was an escape artist. A ruthless one. He dug into the pocket of his tattered jeans and Damien tensed, ready to pull the trigger if need be. He could do it. He could take Lightfoot out before anything happened to Tabitha . . . He had to.
“See this?” Lightfoot held up the palm-sized detonator switch for the inspection of all. No doubt every night-vision scope in the vicinity was zeroed in on the piece of plastic. Damien’s stomach bottomed out and adrenaline coursed hot and thick through his veins. Lightfoot smirked at Damien’s realization. “There’s enough C-4 in the trunk of my car to incinerate everything in at least a mile radius. So unless you want to blow us all to hell, you’ll let me get in my car with Tabby Cat and leave.”
“Bullshit.” No way could Lightfoot have had the time to rig the car up like that.
“Believe it, son. Seth,” Lightfoot barked. “Go on over and pop the trunk for the marshal, here.”
The chatter in his earpiece was so distracting that Damien had to pull it from his ear. Gates and his team were on high alert, not taking anything for granted. “Slowly, Seth.” If there were explosives in the trunk of Lightfoot’s car, any minor disturbance could set them off. What kind of crazy son of a bitch drove around with a carful of fucking C-4? Jesus.
Lightfoot tossed Seth his keys, and even in the shadows cast on him by the headlights, Damien could see the worry and fear etched into the kid’s face. Seth approached the beat-up Toyota Corolla like he was walking up to a grizzly bear. He slid the key into the lock slowly and popped the trunk, easing it open inch by inch.
“What do you see, Seth?”
“A shitload of weird-looking bricks. Like clay wrapped in plastic.” Seth’s voice quavered. “A red blinking light, lots of wires and cords. It’s all housed in a big black box.”
Fuck. It sure as hell sounded legit. He popped his earpiece back in and said, “Did you get all of that, Gates?”
“Yeah.” Gates didn’t sound any happier about the situation than Damien was. “We’ve got a DOD bomb squad from Gowen Field on alert. They’ll deploy in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll blow us all to kingdom come before I let you fuckers take me!” Lightfoot shouted so everyone within earshot would hear him loud and clear. “So you’re gonna let me walk out of here with what’s mine, or I’ll see you all in hell!”
The Boise Airport was only five minutes away. The task force had suspected for a while that Lightfoot—an accomplished pilot—had been flying in and out of the country in a private plane under an assumed name. But how he’d managed to get his hands on this much C-4 was a mystery. Had the crazy son of a bitch flown it in on his plane?
Every second that Lightfoot had his gun pointed on Tabitha felt like a lifetime, and Damien prayed that he’d have the strength to protect her. To keep her safe, get her out of this alive. He needed more time with her. More kisses, another word from her honeyed voice, just one touch more.
The bastard flashed Damien a superior smile that made him want to rip his lips right off his face. “Come on, sis. It’s time to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tabitha’s eyes were glued to Damien. What had started out as a cut-and-dried plan had taken such a nosedive that she doubted he’d be able to pull them out of it. Beside her, Joey’s body lay lifeless, his sightless eyes staring up at the night sky. A sob hitched in Tabitha’s throat. She’d hated Joey for everything he’d done to her, but she never would have wished him dead.
“Come on, sis. It’s time to go.”
She stared at Gerald, eyes wide. “My ankle is broken,” she said through the thickness in her throat. “How in the hell do you expect me to go anywhere?”
“Don’t get lippy with me.” His tone promised a second broken ankle if she didn’t watch out. “It’s your own damned fault. You always were the weak one. Your brother knows how to play the game. You went against your family, sis. That’s why you’re in the mess you’re in.”
Of course Gerald would see it that way. His self-appointed title as their godfather let Gerald think that he had some sort of claim on her and Seth. And likewise, he expected her to play by the rules of the life they’d grown up in. Number one: you never go against your family. Number two: you never involve the authorities. Ever. Number three: you are always, always loyal to the family, no matter what they do.
“You’re not my family,” Tabitha said through clenched teeth. “Go to hell.”
With his gun still aimed at Damien, Gerald reached down and shoved the detonator in her hand. He forced her thumb down on a red button and she felt something click. Oh God, no! Had he just engaged the detonator? He hauled Tabitha up by her hair, the sounds of strands releasing from her scalp sickening her as she screamed from the pain of trying to stand on both feet. She took the weight off her broken ankle, supporting herself solely on her right foot. Tears streamed down her face and there was nothing she could do to stop the flow. Whether or not Gerald managed to escape this situation, Tabitha knew that she was going to die.
“If she takes her finger off that button,” Gerald said to Damien, “we’re all fucked.”
Tabitha’s chest fluttered with her racing heart. She couldn’t do anything to slow the rush of air that hiccuped on each intake, the hyperventilation coaxing stars in her vision. “Damien,” she said through each desperate pant, “I . . . think . . . I’m going . . . to pass out.”
In which case, they were all definitely fucked.
Damien put his gun down and raised his hands in supplication to Gerald. He took one slow step forward, and then another.
“That’s close enough, Marshal,” Gerald drawled.
“Tabitha, look at me.”
He fiddled with something in his ear and leaned down, forcing her to meet his eyes. He blurred in and out of focus and Tabitha swayed as she tried to steady herself on her good foot. Pain radiated from her ankle, so intense that it made her nauseous. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t strong enough. At least if they all died in a fiery explosion it would be quick and painless. Right?
“Tabitha. Look at me.”
She choked back a sob as she took in every detail of Damien’s face. If she had known tonight was going to end this way, she never would have asked him to leave her apartment. She would have begged him to stay. Pleaded with him to let Gerald go. She would have told him how she felt about him. That she’d fallen so hard there was no climbing back from it. That he had invaded every pore of her skin, every particle that made up her being. In just a few short weeks, she’d fallen in love with him. And it didn’t matter if he was Damien or Parker, or anyone else. She wanted him. Needed him. There would never, ever be another man for her.
Damien was it.
And now, it was too late to tell him any of it.
“I don’t think I can do this, Damien.” Understatement of the century. Her thumb was beginning to cramp from the force she exerted to keep the button on the detonator pressed down. She was so tired. Exhausted. She just wanted to let it go and fall to the ground.
“Yes, you can.” His tone was firm but so reassuring. “You’re strong, Tabitha. Just hang on. I’m going to get you out of this, I promise.”
