One Touch More by Mandy Baxter Page A

man know it was safe to talk.
    â€œGood to know I haven’t caught you at a bad time, Evans.”
    Aside from being alone in the room, Damien had swept the entire space for bugs and was confident that Joey wasn’t eavesdropping. Thank God. Otherwise what had happened between him and Tabitha earlier would have made for an awkward working relationship. “What’s up?”
    â€œDennis Callihan says you’re making good progress up there.” Crawford had a reputation as a hard-ass, but Damien liked him. Ball-busters got the job done, and his success rate was damned near perfect. He wanted Lightfoot as badly as Damien did. An arrest would be a huge win for the Marshals Service.
    â€œI think so. Nothing on Lightfoot yet, but I’m in with his distributor.”
    â€œThat’s good, Evans. You’re definitely moving ahead of our timetable. The DOJ has intel that Lightfoot is readying a market in Northern California. The demand for Stardust is snowballing and the deaths are piling up. With all of the interagency effort going into this case, everyone agrees that we want this crap off the streets as soon as possible.”
    â€œAgreed.” Synthetic shit could be damned dangerous. But the worst part of the synthetic trade was that it was dirt cheap and easy for kids to get their hands on. It was imperative to get Stardust off the streets before it became an epidemic. “Boise PD is working with me to give the distributor a wide berth for the time being. But as soon as I get a bead on Lightfoot, we’ll be shutting his operation down.”
    â€œGood. The federal prosecutor wants the takedown on this to have a long reach. That means as many arrests as you can manage. I want anyone with a connection to the distributor arrested. This is going to be a zero-tolerance situation. The government is bringing the hammer down on this one. Not only to send a message to all of the other Lightfoots out there, but to the small-time dealers who think they’ll make money on his heels in the synthetic trade.”
    â€œUnderstood.” Damien’s heart rocketed up into this throat before taking a nosedive straight to his gut. “I’ll brief Callihan and Ryan Gates Monday morning on what I’ve got so far. Is there anything you’d like me to include when I talk to them?”
    â€œNo, I’ll be talking to Callihan next week. Just keep doing what you’re doing. And be careful out there, Parker.”
    Damien ended the call without responding. There was more to Crawford’s words than a simple concern for his safety. He’d worked most of his undercover assignments under Crawford’s supervision, and the SOG supervisory director knew better than anyone—except for maybe Dr. Meyers—about the blurred lines between Damien’s life and Parker’s.
    The backs of his legs met the mattress and Damien collapsed on the bed as a rush of breath vacated his lungs. He’d told Gates, Callihan, and the Boise PD about Tabitha’s involvement in Cavello’s operation. By providing him with a place to do business, she was more than just an accessory. The federal prosecutor could bring a list of charges against her: conspiracy, racketeering, trafficking, aiding and abetting . . . Jesus .
    He flung himself back on the bed and his foot knocked something across the carpeting. He pushed himself up, his brow furrowed at the sight of the cell phone he’d catapulted across the room, resting not far from the discarded canister of pepper spray. What the hell? Leaning over the edge of the bed, he scooped the cell into his grasp. He propped himself up on the pillows, and unlocked the screen.
    Two faces stared back at him in a wallpaper selfie. One was Tabitha, and she had her arms around a guy with the same golden hair and deep blue eyes. They could have been twins, their features were so similar. The phone must have fallen from her pocket earlier. Damien’s lungs