by Mandy Baxter
She obeyed without another squeak of protest. It didn’t do much good to argue with someone who was not only high as a kite, but armed. Joey dragged Tabitha through the door and directly into her neighbor’s apartment which was situated at the far corner of her building. The jamb was splintered and the lock broken. She said a small prayer of thanks that no one was home. She didn’t know her neighbor well, but Tabitha did know she was a single mom with two young kids. Joey pulled her through the apartment to the balcony, where he’d slung a knotted rope made from a bedsheet. Looked like they were fleeing the scene like a couple of ten-year-olds running away from home. Good God.
“You first.” Joey poked her in the ribs with the barrel of the gun. Ouch! “When you get to the ground, don’t even think about running or I’ll put a bullet in you. Got it?”
Tabitha nodded. She slung one leg over the balcony, gripped the first knot in the sheet, and then slung her other leg over. In choosing to escape from the balcony that was shielded from the view of the parking lot and the street, Joey had demonstrated that he wasn’t as clueless as she’d given him credit for. God, she hoped Damien was good at his job. Because right now, he was the only thing standing between her and death.
“I’ve gotten into some shit in my life, but this takes the fuckin’ cake.”
Damien gave Seth a sidelong glance. The kid was bouncing around like he was about to take the court in the NBA playoffs or some shit. It was sad to think that he was so young and already had such illustrious criminal connections. Damien could only imagine what Seth and Tabitha’s childhood must have been like. And he admired Tabitha all the more for the way she fought to distance herself from that life. “Just calm down, Seth. You don’t want to give Lightfoot any reason to be nervous. This is just business as usual, got it?”
“Sorry.” Seth stuffed his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped. He even sounded like a dejected kid. “So, how’s the whole witness protection thing, anyway? Am I going to have to get plastic surgery or wear dark glasses everywhere I go?”
Damien laughed. “Hardly.” He hadn’t worked a rotation with WITSEC in a long time, but he knew that the Marshals Service would make sure Seth was well taken care of. “It’ll be nice and chill. You’ll get to be a normal twenty-one-year-old kid and live your life. And it won’t be permanent. I’m sure once the dust settles, you’ll be able to come back here if you want.”
“Cool.” Seth craned his head out of the window of Damien’s car like a squirrel poking its head from a hole. “But Tabs will probably be better off if I stayed away. For a while anyway. At least until I get my shit together.”
Damien opted not to respond. Seth’s relationship with Tabitha was none of his business. Hell, at this point he doubted that Tabitha was his business. He’d gone to her apartment this afternoon, prepared to explain himself and at least reach some sort of understanding. Instead of a simple understanding, he’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted and more.
Tabitha was heaven.
There would never be another woman for him. Every encounter he’d had with Tabitha before today had been nothing more than play. A tantalizing peek at what being with her would truly be like. Damien could never have prepared himself for the intensity—the intimacy—of making love to her. It had never been that good with any other woman and would never be better. She was it.
“My sister likes you, you know.”
Damien glanced at Seth and swallowed down a disbelieving grunt. Yeah, sure she does. Which was why she’d all but thrown him out of her apartment this afternoon.
“Your sister throws a mean right hook.” Damien figured Seth didn’t need to know everything about their afternoon together.
“She so does. But—and this is going to sound totally fucked up—she wouldn’t have decked you if she didn’t care. The last time I got in trouble, she smacked me upside the head so hard I swear I saw stars.” Seth chuckled. “You ever see a bear with her cubs? They get out of line and that big paw comes out to swat them around and bring them into line. That’s Tabs. She’s a mama bear. Always has been.”
Damien could totally picture her laying into her brother that way. Maybe Seth was right. If he gave Tabitha some space, let her vent her frustrations with him and put him in line, she’d come around. Even if she didn’t, Damien would be at her front door every day, more than willing to act as her punching bag until she forgave him. He wasn’t going anywhere.
A pair of headlights turned onto Federal Way, toward the fenced-in yard of Lightfoot’s shipping company where Damien and Seth waited. The kid resumed his nervous bouncing, shaking the Shelby until Damien felt like they were cruising down a bumpy road and no longer parked. “Relax, Seth. There are marshals, DEA, Boise PD, and SWAT staged at the perimeters of the property and we’re all going to walk out of here in one piece. Got it?”
Seth turned and gave him a sheepish smile. “Got it. But, man, I am so going straight after tonight. This shit ain’t worth the stress.”
Wasn’t that the fucking truth?
“Shit.” A jacked-up Ford pickup pulled up beside them and Damien’s hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.
“What?”
“Joey beat Lightfoot here.” Damn it. As far as Joey was concerned, Seth and Damien would have no business to be here together. He didn’t want anything throwing up red flags at this point. If Joey decided to call them out on it and give Lightfoot any reason for suspicion, it would be a disaster. “Here.” He shoved a Glock into Seth’s hand. “You found me at the hotel and forced me to come here. Got it?”
“Shit!” If Seth wasn’t panicked before, he sure as hell was now. “What if something happens? How are you going to arrest anyone—or save any of our asses—unarmed?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got an extra holstered at my waistband. This is just for show. Make Joey think that you’ve got the situation under control. Damien locked his gaze with Seth’s. “You can do this. For your sister.”
Seth visibly swallowed and nodded his head. “No worries. I’ve got this.”
“Okay, then. Put on a good show.”
Damien got out of the car with a scowl fixed into place. He put his hands behind his neck and interlaced his fingers as though Seth had already given him the order to do so. Seth trained the gun on him and Damien had to admit he was sweating a little with a nervous kid pointing a loaded weapon at his head. It might have been a good idea to remove the damned clip. Jesus. Just another day at the office . . .
He came around to the front of the Shelby, the headlights of Joey’s truck shining too bright for Damien to see anything but shadows. Joey got out and the passenger door swung open. Damien’s gut clenched at this new variable that had been thrown into the mix. Could Joey have come with Lightfoot? Then his stomach took a nosedive and landed with a splat somewhere near the soles of his feet when he realized the shadowed form was much too curvy and feminine to belong to Gerald Lightfoot.
Motherfucker.
“Damn, Seth!” Joey followed up with a slow whistle. “You’re a certifiable badass. Brought in the big game tonight. Nice fucking job, dude.”
Damien’s teeth gnashed. He was going to kill that little son of a bitch. Kill him, if he touched one hair on Tabitha’s head.
“Lightfoot said he wanted everyone involved rounded up. I do what I’m told.”
Seth’s tone was cool and level. Perfect. In the glare of Joey’s headlights, Damien couldn’t see Tabitha’s face. Was she okay? The loose perimeter of officers watching her apartment had been an obvious fail. Damn it, he should have had her taken into protective custody. She would have been pissed but at least she’d be safe. Damien pushed the myriad worries to the back of his mind and focused on the situation at hand. Whether or not Tabitha’s protective detail had fallen through, he had backup here. And he was going to get all of them out of this alive.
“Seth, are you out of your mind?” Damien would have laughed at Tabitha’s enraged tone if the situation had been l
ess dire. “What are you doing?”
“What I have to.”
If Damien didn’t know any better, he would have been nervous at Seth’s Oscar-worthy performance. He wished there was some way to convey to Tabitha that everything was okay, but unfortunately, she’d have to remain in the dark for the duration.
“You oughta take a page from your brother’s book, Tabs,” Joey said. Damien’s gaze slid to where Joey’s hand bit into Tabitha’s arm and it was all he could do not to tackle the fucker. “He knows what’s what. Seth, why don’t you talk some sense into this bitch? The quicker I get my shit back, the better.”
“She’s still my sister, asshole.” Seth’s voice burned with barely veiled rage. “So watch your fucking mouth.”
Joey snorted. “Whatever. It’s not going to matter to Lightfoot that she’s your sister, so you better get her to cough up the goods before he gets here.”
What a cluster fuck. Though if Damien had known a simple theft would get Lightfoot to show his face, he would have played this assignment differently from the start. With Lightfoot as hard to lay eyes on as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, the marshals were keeping their distance. Damien was prepared to take a beating in order to get the arrest, but he wasn’t interested in getting shot. With Tabitha here, it added a more dangerous layer to an already volatile situation. Despite her family connection to Lightfoot, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t kill her just to prove a point.
“You know, it’s my own fucking fault for trusting a guy who just blows into town, free as a bird, when the rest of his crew is sitting in a federal prison.” Joey pointed his revolver at Damien and the tension in Damien’s shoulders relaxed a couple fractions of an inch. Anything was better than having that barrel trained on Tabitha. “I mean, what the fuck? You get pinched with a bunch of fucking arms dealers. The feds lock everyone up and you skate? Did you narc on your buddies, Damien? Cut a deal to save your own ass? Because you’re a punk-ass bitch if you did.” He moved his arm just to the left of Damien’s head and pulled the trigger.
The report of the shot cracked as the headlight of Damien’s Shelby exploded, sending sparks and shards of glass flying. Tabitha lurched, as though ready to tackle both him and Seth to the ground in order to protect them, but Joey reached out and wound his fist in her hair, pulling her back with a cruel yank.
Joey Cavello had abused both of Damien’s girls tonight—Tabitha and his Shelby—and the bastard wasn’t going to walk away from this with his nuts intact. “I told your buddy Tony that if he so much as shot a mean mug Tabitha’s way, that I would end him. He didn’t listen and I beat the ever-living fuck out of him. He’d be a dead man right now if it wasn’t for the woman standing beside you. So, unless you want to die right here, right now, you’d better take your goddamned hands off of her.”
Joey brought up the gun and fired again, shattering the windshield of Damien’s car. A riot of chatter went off in his earpiece, Ryan Gates shouting orders to his team and the DEA agents on scene, to be ready to move in at Damien’s word. They’d agreed on bandit as the code word to signal the marshals and SWAT to move in, and the highly trained tactical team wouldn’t move a muscle until given the green light. Joey was blowing off steam—and pissing Damien right the fuck off in the process—but he wouldn’t kill Damien. No, he’d wait until Lightfoot showed up before he did anything too rash.
“You gonna end me, Damien?” Another shot rang out and the side mirror exploded. Tabitha grunted in pain as Joey twisted his fist in her hair, wrenching her head back. He put his face against hers and bit Tabitha’s earlobe hard enough to cause her to cry out in pain. “Come on. If you’re such a tough motherfucker, do something.”
Damien’s entire body went rigid. Anger burned in his gut like molten metal, slogging through his veins and searing every nerve ending in the process. He took two rapid steps, closing the distance between them, and Tabitha’s eyes went wide. “Damien, don’t.” The urgency in her tone froze him in his tracks, but it did nothing to slow the frantic beat of his heart or heavy breaths puffing in his chest.
“You took something that belonged to me, asshole.” Joey brought the barrel of his revolver to Tabitha’s temple and she cringed. “I think it’s only fair I take something of yours in return.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joey egged Damien on in an attempt to goad him into doing something that would justify killing him before Gerald showed up. If everything went south before the star of the show made an appearance, all of this would be for nothing, and Tabitha refused to let that happen.
You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.
The self-coaching was helping to slow her racing heart, but it wasn’t doing shit for the fear that threatened to choke the air from her lungs. She was pretty sure her ear was bleeding and she wanted to return the favor so badly, she shook with unrestrained rage.
“Seth, don’t!”
Her brother’s shadowed form cut a swath through the beam of headlights as he rushed at Joey. The situation went from bad to worse in about half a second as Seth’s shoulder made contact with Joey’s chest. Joey fired off a wild shot and Tabitha went down with them in a tangle of limbs and a cloud of dust. Someone’s elbow caught her in the chin, jarring her head back with enough force that it rattled her teeth. Pain radiated through her face, so intense she saw stars. Or were they headlights? She choked as a second cloud of dust swirled over her, the crunch of gravel barely audible over the sound of the scuffle.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
The sound of that voice rocketed Tabitha into the past and chilled the blood in her veins. Jagged like the rocks and dirt beneath her, dry as the dust coating her lungs, and as deathly cold as a grave. She kicked and rolled away from the mass of struggling bodies, desperate to free herself from the melee.
“Seth, stop.” Her tone was low but frantic as she straightened and tugged at her brother’s shoulder. “Seth.” Memories of Gerald beating a poor kid who’d stiffed him for fifty bucks flashed in her mind. If he’d broken someone’s arm over a few bucks, what would he do to them for losing an entire half of his shipment? “Seth!” She kicked at Joey, desperate to get him away from Seth. “Please. Stop now!” Strong arms pulled her upright and Damien hauled her backward, away from the chaos. Seth was next, hauled up by his collar like a helpless kitten being relocated by its mother.
Joey scrambled to retrieve the gun he’d dropped during the fight and brought it up as he came to his feet, practically foaming at the mouth. “You’re fucking dead, Seth.”
“No one here dies unless I say so.” Gerald pulled back the hammer on a monster revolver, the swirling dust lending a dreamlike, gossamer backdrop to the scene. He poked the barrel into the back of Joey’s head and for the first time tonight, the jackass had the good sense to look scared.
Joey lowered his own gun and let it hang limply at his side. “Hey, man.” His voice cracked like a prepubescent teen as he faced Gerald. “I was just trying to get this situation under control before you showed up.”
“Yeah, looks like it.” Gerald did nothing to hide his disdain, and Tabitha’s mouth went dry. Damien’s back was a wall of muscle, shielding her and Seth. There was no way in hell any of this was going to end well.
“Come here, little man.” Gerald’s endearment to Seth did little to settle Tabitha’s nerves. Instead, a sense of foreboding crept over her like an early morning frost. She grabbed Seth’s hand, reluctant to let him go. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze before walking past the protection Damien offered and over to the man who’d ruined all of their lives.
Gerald Lightfoot was a walking cliché. He looked older than his fifty years, the product of hard living and even harder fighting. Salt-and-pepper hair was drawn back into a long, bedraggled ponytail, deep wrinkles fanned from the corner of his eyes and mouth, and when he smiled at Seth, he revealed a row of crooked teeth with more than one gap. Tabitha’s dad had knocked out one of those teeth one night when they’d both been too
drunk to stand. It had pissed Gerald off to the point that he’d given her dad a concussion in retaliation.
He was a throwback to the heyday of motorcycle gangs. Hell, Tabitha knew Gerald still had connections with the Demons of Speed, an infamous local biker gang that was well-known for being violent, racist, criminal scumbags. He could easily be their leader, the king asshole. And the funny thing was . . . Damien’s rough-around-the-edges appearance fit right in with Gerald’s. Joey—all six skinny, grungy feet of him—looked like a clueless newb in comparison.
“How’ve you been, little man?” Gerald embraced Seth and gave him a few robust pats on the back. Tabitha’s stomach churned with nervous energy and she swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. Gerald’s gesture of fatherly affection was nothing more than show. He’d kill Seth in a heartbeat and not even think twice about it.
Gerald’s eyes locked with Tabitha’s over her brother’s shoulder and he gave her a slow smile that made her skin crawl. “It’s been a while, sis. You don’t got any love for me?”
She hated when he called her that. Even as a kid, the endearment had carried with it an undertone that made her sick. It’d been almost seven years since she’d seen the son of a bitch and he was treating it like some kind of dysfunctional family reunion. Her body sought out Damien’s, her steps mechanical as she pressed herself against his broad back. Every inch of her vibrated with fear. Why hadn’t anyone called in the cavalry? That was the plan, right? Get Gerald to show his face and then the marshals would move in and arrest him. Where in the hell was everyone?
“Get on over here, Tabby Cat, and give me a hug.”
God, the pet names. Sis . . . now Tabby Cat. And there were many more. They seemed to be never ending. With each usage, she was reminded of a life she’d fought so hard to put behind her. A life she didn’t want anything to do with ever again. Gerald shifted so that Seth stood beside him, though Gerald kept the hand holding his gun slung casually over her brother’s shoulder. Tabitha wasn’t an idiot. She knew what he was trying to do: separate them from Damien.