by Mandy Baxter
Damien watched as Lightfoot’s Cessna was loaded up onto a trailer, ready to be hauled off to impound. His plane was loaded down with automatic weapons, a stash of emergency cash, and several fake IDs and passports, as well as more C-4 and the additional bomb-making accoutrements Lightfoot would have needed to blow the hangar to shreds. The guy wasn’t just dangerous, he was certifiably insane.
“This is a huge win, Parker. Huge.”
Bill Crawford had flown in to personally oversee Lightfoot’s arrest and processing. He’d missed the big show, but he was fine with basking in the aftermath of the arrest and seizure of Lightfoot’s property. Crawford was right: It was a huge win. One that would define his career. So why was Damien’s stomach churning like an angry sea?
“Thank you, sir. I’m just glad the son of a bitch is in custody.”
Crawford gave him a robust pat on the back. “We’ll want you in charge of Lightfoot’s transfer. His shoulder is patched up and we’re moving him out ASAP. Can you be ready to roll in fifteen?”
Leaving Boise was the last thing Damien wanted. But getting Lightfoot as far away from Tabitha as possible was more important right now, and Damien didn’t trust anyone else to see it done. “I’m ready. I’ll fly back after he’s processed and tie up my loose ends here. It won’t be a problem.”
Crawford continued to talk, about what Damien had no fucking idea. His thoughts were elsewhere, the worry over Tabitha eating him alive. Was she okay? Had they been able to set her ankle without any trouble? And what about her face? Was anything else broken? Her physical injuries were nothing compared to his concern over her emotional state, though. She’d been reluctant to let him go, her anxiety apparent in the visible tremor that shook her slight form.
Tabitha thought she was weak. But in truth, her strength, her fortitude, astounded him. His own fear ran far deeper than hers, shaking him deep in the pit of his soul. What would happen after tonight? He’d been one hundred percent honest with her when he’d spoken low in her ear. He needed her. Craved her. Loved her. But sometimes emotional attachments were forged in brutally intense situations like the one Tabitha had just endured. What if her reciprocating words were just empty promises made during stressful moments? Had she perhaps projected an imitation of honest emotion, professing her love for him because he was offering her the support she needed in a life-or-death situation?
Maybe Tabitha didn’t want him the way he wanted her. If so, where did that leave him?
“So, what do you think, Evans?”
Damien turned to the SOG director. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t get that last part.” Yeah, right. He didn’t get any of it, he was so caught up in his own damned head.
“I said that after tonight you’ll be able to write your own ticket. You can go anywhere, work any detail. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI, CIA, or even Department of Homeland tries to court you. But I’ve gotta say, I’m going to do what I can to keep you on my team, Parker. Just tell me what it’s going to take to keep you around.”
Damien knew what he wanted. It was a huge risk, one that might result in his undoing. But the truth of it was, if this didn’t work out he’d be undone anyway. Might as well pull the trigger and see what happened. “I’m not interested in working for another agency,” Damien replied. “But as long as we’re talking about what I want, I’d like to talk to you about a transfer.”
“We can do whatever you want,” Crawford replied. “Just say the word.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I wish you could have been there to see it. Sandy looked that guy from corporate straight in the eye and told him where he could stick it. If I’d been thinking, I would have recorded it on my phone so you could watch the awesomeness for yourself. It was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
No doubt Dave’s drama meter had topped out when Sandy went to bat with the corporate executive who’d demanded that Tabitha not only be fired, but suggested that charges be filed for her role in Joey’s operation. What Mister Big Executive didn’t realize was that for her role in all of it, Tabitha had immunity from prosecution in exchange for her testimony. Likewise, it was sweet that Sandy had stood up for her. But Tabitha wasn’t so sure she was going to go back to her job at the IdaHaven. She only had six months of clinicals left in the fall before she could get a nursing job. Maybe she could find something in a restaurant or grocery store to float her until graduation.
“Tell her thanks for me,” Tabitha replied with a smile. “I bet it was a killer scene.”
Dave finished putting away the few groceries he’d picked up for her, and leaned against the bar. “Looks like I didn’t need to buy you much. You’re pretty well stocked.”
“Lila,” Tabitha said. “She’s been bringing me food, magazines, movies . . . Even hanging out when she’s not at work or with Charlie.” Things were heating up with the investment banker and Lila had been pretty scarce. Still proving she could be a good friend, though, she’d checked in on Tabitha regularly over the past couple of weeks.
“I’m going to have to step up my game,” Dave remarked. “No way am I going to let Lila be a better friend than me.”
When she’d left the hospital after her ordeal, Tabitha had thought she was alone. Dave and Lila, even Sandy, were proving her wrong, though. She wasn’t alone. There were people besides Seth who cared about her. They were a family of sorts, and she felt blessed to have them in her life.
“You’re still my favorite person to gossip with, Dave. You’ve got Lila beat in that department.”
He smiled. “Damn straight. So . . . in the vein of being a good friend, have you heard from the tattooed love god lately?”
Tabitha hobbled over to the couch, careful not to catch her crutches on the coffee table. “He’s called.” Damien—damn it, she should probably get used to thinking of him as Parker—called at least once a day. He had to wrap up his case against Lightfoot and until then, he was going to have to stay wherever it was that undercover marshals took their top level prisoners. Dam—Parker said that the less she knew about it, the better. Tabitha had to agree with him. She didn’t want to know anything about where Gerald Lightfoot was. She didn’t want to think about him at all.
“And . . . ?” Dave looked as though the suspense was killing him.
“We talk.” Tabitha was usually more than ready to discuss her love life with Dave, but things had changed. She’d changed. Her feelings weren’t girlish, or fleeting. This wasn’t some crush that she’d get over later. She was in love with a man she wasn’t sure she even knew. Maybe Parker was a completely different man than Damien. She’d always sensed a duality in him. What if she was in love with the undercover persona and nothing more? What if she didn’t love Parker Evans?
Dave leaned forward, eyes wide. “Dirty talk?”
“Like I’d tell you,” she teased. “Mostly it’s just boring, everyday sort of talk.”
Tabitha didn’t miss the way Dave deflated at her lack of juicy details. “Is he coming back?”
That was the big question, wasn’t it? “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I hope so.”
A knock came at the door and Tabitha stifled a groan. It was such a pain to move around her tiny apartment on her crutches.
“Stay put,” Dave said. “I’ll get it.”
Thank. God. Maybe she could talk Dave into moving into Seth’s old room until she was given a walking cast. She’d already tripped several times in the past couple of weeks, and she wasn’t really interested in breaking anything else. All she needed was to trip and crack her wrist or something. “Thanks, Dave. You’re awesome.”
“Oh, don’t I know it.” He flashed her a grin as he crossed the living room to the front door. “Well, speak of the devil.” Dave opened the door wide, and standing on the other side, head and shoulders above her friend, was the very object of Tabitha’s obsession.
Holy crap. In the weeks they’d been apart it seemed as though he’d grown more commanding, a specimen of masculi
ne perfection without equal. Dave didn’t even bother to hide his own look of admiration as he took in all six-plus feet of sculpted muscle and gorgeous ink. He was everything Tabitha could have possibly wanted. A bad boy on the outside with a heart of gold on the inside.
Perfect.
“Hi.” The word lodged in her throat, nothing more than a pathetic squeak.
“Well, I’m thinking this is my cue to GTFO,” Dave said with a laugh. “Call me if you need anything, Tabs, though it looks like you’ve got everything you want.”
Heat rose to her cheeks and her eyes grew wide. It’s like he went out of his way to embarrass her. “Thanks, Dave,” she said through a tight smile. “I’ll call you later.”
Dam—uh, Parker—stepped through the doorway as Dave exited. The door closed behind him with an echoing finality that caused Tabitha’s pulse to jump in her veins. After two weeks apart, she was as giddy and nervous as she’d been the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
He tied her into knots. Who cared if he was Parker, or Damien, or whoever? He was here now. That’s all that mattered.
A couple of weeks might as well have been decades spent away from her. For a long moment, Damien stood and just took in the sight of her. Goddamn, she was beautiful. His gaze lit on the cast encasing her leg and he felt a stab of regret that he hadn’t been there for her at the hospital, and afterward to help her.
“How’s your leg?” He’d practiced what he was going to say to her on the four-hour flight. Each word planned and precise. But now that he was standing here, so close he could touch, every single thought-out word was sucked from his brain like water down the drain. How’s your leg? It’s broken, dumbass.
“It’s starting to itch.” Tabitha gave a nervous laugh. “I made Dave bring me a wire hanger the other day so I could scratch it. By the time they put the walking cast on, I’m going to scratch all of my skin off.”
“I broke my ankle when I was thirteen. It sucked.”
“Yeah. I won’t be running any marathons for a while, I guess.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Is it weird that I have no idea what to call you? I’ve been trying not to think of you as Damien, but it’s tough, you know? I can only imagine what the duality is like for you.”
An awkward quiet swallowed up all of the breathable air and he cupped the back of his neck to try and massage away some of the tension pinching the muscle there. Why was he ruining this moment? All he’d been able to think about for the past two weeks was getting back to Tabitha. And now that he was right here in front of her, he was letting his own damned insecurities get the better of him. Damn it, not anymore. He wasn’t going to let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers because of his own stupid doubts.
He rushed to the couch and hauled Tabitha up into his arms. “You can call me any goddamned thing you want as long as you love me.” Damien navigated the coffee table and carried Tabitha down the hallway to her bedroom, careful not to bump her leg in the process. “I always thought that I had to be one or the other. Damien or Parker. There was no in-between. But with you, I can be both. I can be more.” He set her gently on the bed and stretched out beside her, brushing the hair from her face. “I’m here for good, Tabitha, but only if you want me.”
“What do you mean, for good?” She searched his face as though for the truth in his words.
“I mean, I asked for a transfer. No more undercover. I want to put down roots. Here. With you.”
Tabitha’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and a quick smile lit her features. She was the brightest star in a night sky, shining just for him. A beacon calling him home. “Are you sure you want this?” The soft timbre of her voice caressed every nerve ending, filled his chest with so much emotion he thought it would burst. “My life is so messed up. I mean, God . . . Parker, I’ve got so much baggage it would fill a school bus.”
Parker. His name used to grate on his own ears, didn’t sound right after so many years of living undercover. But the way she said it, with so much gentle affection . . . It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“Say my name again.”
Her bemused expression melted into a brilliant smile. “Parker.”
He kissed her, slow. “Again.”
A bout of sensual laughter rippled over him like warm water on a cool evening. “Parker.”
He let out a low growl before he kissed her again, this time sliding his tongue against hers. She met him with equal fervor, winding her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. Chills cascaded down his spine as he held her close, loving the way her body fit against his. “I wouldn’t care if you had enough baggage to fill six school buses. I love you, Tabitha Martin. I love everything about you, including your baggage. There is nothing you could throw at me that I can’t take. And I’m more than ready to trust you with my baggage, too. Believe me, mine would fill up a few buses, too.”
She smiled against his lips. “Well, you did let me sew you up. If that doesn’t prove that you trust me, I don’t know what does.”
“I trust you,” he assured her. “With my life, my heart, everything.”
“I trust you, too.” She kissed him once, her lips lingering on his. “With my life, my heart, everything. You keep your promises, Parker. No one has ever done that for me. I love you.”
And he’d keep on keeping those promises to her. “I love you. So much.” His mouth found hers and he lost himself to her taste, the silky glide of her tongue and petal softness of her lips. Tabitha was his drug; there was no doubt about it. “I’m addicted to you, honey. I hope you know, you won’t ever be getting rid of me.”
She pulled away and gave him a brilliant smile. “Everyone’s got a vice, right?”
He traced the line of her jaw, brushed his thumb over her full bottom lip. “I think so. What’s yours?”
“My addiction?” Her voice dropped an octave and her voice sparked with mischief. “Well, I can’t seem to get enough of this certain deputy marshal. He’s a good guy wrapped up in a bad boy package. Pretty perfect if you ask me.”
“I’m far from perfect.”
“You’re perfect for me, Parker. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“It is. You’re perfect for me, too.” Lying here with Tabitha in his arms, he knew he was finally home. “Say my name again.”
Her throaty laughter stirred his blood. “Parker.”
Perfect.
Keep reading for a sneak peek
at the latest in the
U.S. Marshals series,
AT ANY COST,
available in Summer, 2016.
Nick stared out the window, through the steady fall of snow outside, at the woman he’d spent weeks tracking down. She might be going by Olivia Gallagher now, but that didn’t matter. He was on the money. The kitchen of the rented cabin provided the perfect vantage point with a direct view of her driveway, and he watched as she talked to her shovel as she moved scoop after scoop of snow. Her grumbles, spoken between bouts of profanity could be heard even through his kitchen window, would have made a sailor proud.
She’d done a damned good job of flying below the radar, but not good enough. No one can simply vanish. People talked, there were paper trails. Sporting a new name and Social Security number wasn’t enough. Living in an obscure town in the middle of BFE wasn’t enough. Nick had only set up shop in the cabin yesterday afternoon. Not even twelve hours in McCall, Idaho, and he had eyes on his target.
She wasn’t quite what he’d expected.
“Frank, you piece of shit! How could you do this to me?”
Nick’s lips quirked as Olivia continued on with her tirade, loud enough to wake up everyone on the lane. Well, it would have if anyone else was living on the lane. He grabbed a notebook from the kitchen counter and scribbled the name Frank with a question mark beside it. According to his research, she lived alone. Maybe Frank was her snowplow guy. Or an ex-boyfriend. That wouldn’t make Joel Meecum very happy, would it?
A tingle of
excitement raced from the base of Nick’s neck down his spine, sending a killer rush of adrenaline through his system. Who needed coffee when he could live off of the excitement he felt every time a lead panned out. He’d hit the jackpot with Olivia. Pure solid gold. He watched as she continued to struggle in the fresh snow, wading through a drift that had to have been pushing three feet as she made her way to the back of the car. In the dull red glow of the taillights of the still running car, he could barely make out her profile. Two long braids on either side of her head trailed down from a large, slouchy beanie that she pushed back up on her forehead. She was decked out in snow gear: ski pants, coat, gloves. Nick watched as she plopped down on the ground to check something out under the car. Hell, she looked like a little kid whose mom had gotten her dressed for the trek to the bus stop.
Where was she going this early in the morning, anyway? Nick hadn’t been there long enough to determine any patterns in her comings and goings yet. This could be part of her daily routine for all he knew. He noted the time in his notebook as he flipped on the light in the kitchen. She straightened, her head turning in his direction. Now was as good a time as any to introduce himself. From the rage fest going on outside, he already knew that Olivia Gallagher had a bit of a temper. What would a conversation with her reveal?
She continued to wrestle with the snow and Nick left her to it as he headed for the bedroom to get dressed. Her car was buried to the hood in the deep drift; she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. And for that matter, neither was he.
The sleepy town in the heart of Idaho had to have taken her some time to get used to. He wondered how she’d come to the decision to move here. Had she closed her eyes and stabbed her finger down on a map? Motorcycle-club life was a far cry from the picturesque tourist town she’d settled in. He’d have to ask around, shake the bushes and see what fell out. People loved to gossip in tiny communities like this. Someone had to be willing to talk. Was Olivia an upstanding member of the community? Did she pass bad checks? Hang out at the local bars? When you knew the right questions to ask and how to ask them, people could be pretty damned informative without even knowing they were being questioned.
