by Mandy Baxter
“Seth and I . . .” God, the words were like broken glass in her mouth. “I told you that our dad was a user. And a dealer. He was an alcoholic and he was high more often than he wasn’t. Our mom popped pills like they were Tic Tacs. Seth and I grew up in a really unhealthy environment.”
Damien stiffened beside her and Tabitha’s pulse jumped. The reason why she rarely talked about her childhood was that she usually got two reactions from people: revulsion or pity.
“That must have been rough for you guys.” His voice didn’t carry any hint of pity or disdain. Instead, Damien held her closer, anchoring her to his strength.
“It was.” Tabitha felt a fissure grow in the emotional dam she’d constructed. The tightness that was ever present in her chest began to loosen by small degrees. She’d always had a feeling that Damien didn’t want to be a part of this world, either. Maybe what she’d needed all along was a kindred spirit to listen. “I mean, why is it so hard for some people to take care of their kids? If we wanted to eat, I had to cook. And honestly, there was rarely any food in the house. We wore dirty clothes a lot. We got teased when we were kids because we always looked ratty, we never had school supplies, and our mom couldn’t even get her shit together to apply for supplemental lunch assistance. I lived every day of my life embarrassed. Couldn’t wait to graduate so I could get the hell out of there.”
“Social services didn’t intervene?” In the dark, his voice was all-encompassing. Surrounding her, protecting her. “I mean, didn’t the school district employees notice how bad off you were?”
She shrugged against him. “Health and Welfare came over once. A social worker did a home inspection and gave my parents a warning. Gave them a list of things that had to be fixed and improved in the house. My parents were good for about two weeks. Cleaned the house, filled the fridge with food, kept their nasty friends away. Then, when the smoke cleared, they just fell right back into their old patterns.”
“Damn. That fucking sucks.”
Tabitha gave a sad laugh. “Tell me about it. The thing is, I could’ve gotten over it. I could have forgiven them and just moved on with my life. But my dad had this friend. He was a total piece of shit. I feel like he had a lot to do with keeping my parents in the life and he was a really bad influence on Seth, too. He’s the reason Seth was always getting into trouble. I thought things would get better when he moved out of town. But turns out Gerald was using Seth as a mule—transporting product from Seattle through Oregon and Idaho—and I didn’t even know it.”
Damien’s fingers constricted, squeezing her arms. “This Gerald have a last name?”
Tabitha smiled into the darkness. “Why, you gonna go beat him up, too?”
“Maybe.”
There was a tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Lightfoot. Gerald Lightfoot. I made it a point to stay as far away from my parents’ bullshit as possible. But he was always around, treating Seth and I like we were his own kids. My parents even wanted us to call him Uncle Gerald. It was ridiculous. When I found out he was using Seth—probably because he was seventeen and still a minor—I went off. I left an anonymous tip with the Boise narcotics guys, and ratted my parents out. They didn’t get Gerald, but both my mom and dad were arrested for possession with intent to distribute. I thought it would change things and Seth would get better, but it didn’t. I found out about a year ago that he’d introduced Joey to Gerald. That’s how Joey got me to hook him up with the hotel rooms for him to deal from. He said that if I didn’t help him, he’d do the same thing I’d done to my parents and let the cops know that Seth had been slinging. He promised to make sure there’d be plenty of evidence, too.”
The silence that followed her confession choked the air from Tabitha’s lungs. She’d just admitted to being a narc, and the one thing she’d learned growing up is that the lowest life form in the urban jungle was the rat. What did Damien think of her admission? Probably trying to figure out how quickly he could get the hell out of there before he wound up in police custody, as well.
“I’ve never told anyone the whole story before,” she added. “Joey made a lucky guess and that’s the only reason he knows. I couldn’t tell Seth that I’m the one who turned in our parents. I’m too afraid to tell him. He’d hate me for it.”
Damien’s steady breath was the only sound in the room. Panic rushed hot in her veins. She shouldn’t have said anything. Damn it, she should have kept her big mouth shut. Now it was too late to take the words back and she’d have to live with the consequences. For all she knew, Damien and Joey had gotten pretty tight over the past few weeks. And if he went to Joey with this story, Seth was as good as screwed. He’d set her brother up and hand him over to the narcotics task force on principle. Just to teach Tabitha a lesson. “Damien?” Oh God. You really fucked up this time, Tabs.
Damien’s jaw was clenched to the point that his molars had begun to grind. Until he could get his anger under control, all he’d be able to manage was a few deep growls, and he didn’t think that would do much to assuage Tabitha’s fear. Jesus fucking Christ. If he wasn’t laid up, he’d be halfway across town right now, beating the ever living shit out of Joey Cavello. All this time the Marshals Service had been trying to get their hands on Gerald Lightfoot. And Tabitha’s clueless troublemaker brother—not Cavello—was the key to finding him.
“You did the right thing.” The fear, the doubt in her voice made him feel as though he’d been shot again. That tremor of uncertainty ripped through his heart like a high velocity round. “Really, you should have turned them in a hell of a lot sooner.”
“You don’t think I’m a snitch?”
One of the things Damien hated about gang and drug culture was the cultlike nature of the “extended family” model. All disputes and issues were expected to be handled within the family. Bringing in outside authorities—especially social services or law enforcement—was a huge taboo. And those who did were treated like the lowest traitors.
“I think you’re brave.”
Tabitha let out a derisive snort. “I bet my folks would disagree with you on that one since they’ve still each got at least another year on their sentences.”
Damien held her close. “They might share your gene pool, Tabitha, but those people weren’t parents in any sense of the word.”
“I felt guilty about it for a long time. I was only nineteen. But I’d had it. I couldn’t deal with their drama or the fact that Seth was becoming too used to the lifestyle. I wanted him out.”
“How does Seth feel about all of this? I know he’s your brother and you feel obligated to take care of him. Does he want out as much as you want him out?”
“I think so.” Her voice reached out in the darkness, sad and unsure. “He’s been so good the past several months. He even got a legit job. His boss gave him an advance to buy some work boots and you should have seen him, Damien. He was beaming. Okay, so he did spend some of the money on a pizza, but for Seth this is a huge stride.”
Damien wondered if Seth was truly as excited about his life on the straight and narrow as Tabitha thought. A lot of the time, family members of suspects lived in denial, emphatic to the very end in their belief that their loved one was innocent. Damien had been on the receiving end of a mother’s wrath a time or ten in the course of making an arrest. But one of the things he loved about Tabitha was that she chose to see the good in everyone. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t first get the benefit of the doubt.
“Then for your sake, I hope he keeps his nose clean.” Damien sought out her face in the dark, cupped her cheek as he brought her face toward his. “Because you deserve for someone not to let you down for a change.”
He kissed her gently. For the first time since they’d met, Damien took his time to truly enjoy her. His raw need had been a physical thing, all-consuming, but now it was emotional as well. Under her tough façade, the combat boots, nose piercing, edgy haircut and sharp tongue, was a gentle, fragile soul with more love to give than Dami
en thought possible. She was a warm fire on a cold night. A tall, leafy tree in the storm. The levy that kept floodwater at bay.
Being with her made clear the lines that Damien had blurred over the years. Made him want to recall the man that he was beneath the fabricated covers, the conjured backstories. She washed the guilt of things he’d done and seen from his spirit, as though absolving him of sin. She deserved so much more than what life had given her. So much more.
“No one will ever use you again.” The words were a vow spoken in the sanctity of darkness. He kissed her again and she sighed into his mouth, merging their breaths into one. “No one will exploit you. Abuse you. Disrespect you. I promise, Tabitha. I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you ever again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Her whispered words carried with them the weight of sadness Damien knew far too well. “You never know, you might be the one to hurt me. I might hurt you. People aren’t perfect, so it makes no sense to promise that we will be.”
It would be a lie to deny it. Tabitha had put her trust in Damien, a man that she assumed knew firsthand the world she’d grown up in. Without her even realizing it, he’d hurt her. Betrayed her. Let her make confessions she’d never made to another soul but not to the man she thought he was. She may as well have turned her parents in all over again.
Because Damien had no choice but to go to the chief deputy and Boise PD with the information she’d shared. Arresting Gerald Lightfoot was the fugitive task force’s number one priority. And Tabitha had given them a means to wrap this case up once and for all.
It would just take using her brother’s freedom as leverage to pull it off.
“All right. No promises.” He kissed her again, reveled in the petal-soft touch of her lips, the silky slide of her tongue against his. Tonight he’d let her believe the lie. But he’d have to come clean to her. Soon. Before Gates and Chief Deputy Callihan brought her brother in for questioning. When her lips left his, Damien smoothed back her hair and said, “Can I at least thank you for sewing up my leg?”
She laughed, the sound rippling over him in warm waves. “Consider it payment for saving my life tonight.”
As she settled into his embrace, Damien tried to stem the worry over what would happen after tonight. Would she forgive him for his deception? For using her brother with as much consideration as Joey and Lightfoot had? Or would she understand and appreciate that he truly wanted to help them both?
Moments passed and her breathing became deep and even, her palm relaxed on his chest. Her easy rest did nothing to calm Damien, however. No. His nightmare was only about to begin.
The scent of sizzling bacon could wake any man from a dead sleep. Damien let his head fall to the side and he stared at the empty pillow that Tabitha had slept on, her body tucked against his for long, blissful hours that felt more honest and real than anything he’d experienced in years. Jesus. Sappy much? He was a real tough son of a bitch, lying in bed all wistful and shit. Maybe that’s why the SOG preferred unattached deputies for undercover work. Being in love seriously made a guy lose his edge.
But was he in love?
It had only been a few weeks since they’d met, yet it felt like years. His need to protect her, to shield her from all of the ugliness she’d lived through and continued to suffer was a physical thing that tied his stomach into knots. His body craved hers as surely as any drug, and the thought of being away from her for even a second sent him into a panic that clouded his mind and made him a useless sack of raw emotion. So if being completely ruined, physically, mentally, and emotionally meant that he was in love with Tabitha Martin, then yeah, maybe he did love her.
If that wasn’t the craziest revelation ever.
“Hey.” The door eased open and Tabitha walked in carrying a white plastic bag with Walmart scrawled across the front. Damien pushed himself up to a sitting position, surprised his leg didn’t hurt as bad as he expected it to as he eased back against the headboard. “I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed your car this morning. I bought you jeans and underwear. Oh, and not quite a mountain, but a hill’s worth of bacon. How’s your leg?”
The sentences melded together in a rush that made Damien wonder why she was suddenly so nervous. “Pants are good. I don’t think anyone needs to see me walking around in a blanket skirt.”
She flashed him a quick smile that banished her previously tense expression. “I don’t know, you could totally initiate a new fashion trend: man sarongs.”
“The modern man’s kilt.”
“Exactly.”
Damien welcomed the levity. Last night had been heavy-duty for both of them. How could anyone feel anything but awkward after so much drama?
“I was thinking that after breakfast I should check your stitches and change the bandages. We should probably get some antibiotic cream, too. Just in case. You’re going to need to keep a close eye on the wounds to make sure they don’t get infected. It wouldn’t be good to get sepsis after we went through so much trouble to clean you up.”
Aaaand, just like that, the awkwardness returned. Damien let out a slow sigh and stretched his neck from side to side. “Sounds good to me.”
“Also, I have to go in to work for a few hours to do the food order and send out a few invoices. Would it be okay if I take your car since mine is at the hotel?”
“Sure. I’ll go with you. I need to tie up some loose ends from last night, and I might as well get some of that cream while I’m out. How much do I owe you for the jeans?” Not even their first encounter had been as stilted as this. What the fuck had gone wrong during the night? She opened up to you and is regretting the shit out of it. That’s what went wrong. Damien seriously needed a do-over.
“Okay. If you’re sure your leg is all right to walk. And drive.”
“It is.”
“Don’t worry about the pants,” she said as she headed for the door. “They’re on me. Breakfast is ready, by the way. Just come out whenever.”
The door closed behind her and Damien swung his legs over the side of the bed—careful not to jog his injured thigh too much. He let his head hang between his shoulders and rolled them in an effort to banish some of the tension that had settled there. Goddamn it. While he’d been asleep, everything had changed. And all Damien wanted was to get back to that moment with Tabitha when it was only her and him and the quiet dark.
Chapter Twenty-One
Doing the walk of shame in front of her entire anatomy and physiology class would have been less awkward than the morning she’d spent with Damien. It was all her fault. Damien tried his best to salvage the day, chatting over breakfast and flashing those dimples that melted her insides. But she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that since she’d decided to put her trust in him, everything between them would inevitably fall apart.
Which was pretty much on par for everything in her life.
You idiot. You never should have told him anything about your life. She should have kept things between them light and casual. A physical relationship with no strings attached. He trusted you, though. Told you about his mom and the guilt he felt for not being there for her . . . Which could totally be a lie, for all she knew. An emotionally charged sob story to manipulate her. God, Tabitha, you are such a sap!
“Hey, Tabitha?” Renee poked her head into the office. The Sunday front-desk clerk’s expression was pinched, her brows drawn tight over her eyes. “There’s a guy here from HiTop Roofing who said he needs to talk to a manager. Something about his room.”
Oh. Fuck. She’d been so busy worrying about Damien and what happened between them last night that she’d totally forgotten about Tony. Tabitha was getting pretty tired of visits from the drama llama. Why was it so impossible to break from the dysfunction of her life and start over?
“Go ahead and tell him he can come in.” Tabitha rubbed at her temples and let out a slow breath. Twenty-three was too damned young for this level of stress.
Renee beat a hasty retreat, which
did nothing to calm Tabitha’s nerves. When Joey waltzed into her office, his expression dark, a burst of nervous energy skittered down her spine. She doubted Damien would come to her rescue this time. He closed the door behind him and the sound might as well have been an axe coming down on her neck.
“What in the fuck happened here last night, Tabs?”
Since becoming a “big-time” dealer, Joey’s ego had grown about a thousand percent. She supposed being involved in a shooting last night probably elevated his opinion of himself as a high roller as well. Funny, he’d come away from the incident unscathed, while she’d had to sew Damien up last night. “Tony is out of his goddamned mind, that’s what happened. He got out of line and thank God Damien showed up to put him in his place.”
“Funny,” Joey said, rounding Tabitha’s desk to stand beside her. She inched away as he braced an arm on the desk and lowered himself to eye level. “That’s not the story I got.”
Tony and Joey had been friends for years. No doubt he’d believe his buddy over her. “I don’t know what he told you, Joey, but you can believe me when I say he crossed a line. If you don’t want to listen to me, ask Damien.”
Joey snorted. “Like I’d ask him anything. That fucker is done. Tony told me what he did.”
What an asshole. Tony was lower than the lowest pond scum. “And what exactly did he tell you?”
“Busted in after I dropped him off, beat the shit out of Tony and took off with the rest of my fucking product, that’s what he did.”