Free One Touch More by Mandy Baxter

“Sure. What do you need?”
    â€œI’m picking up a delivery. Some assholes from a syndicate out of Nampa tried to jump us last time, and I’m not putting up with that bullshit tonight.”
    And no doubt Lightfoot would find someone else to work with if Joey couldn’t keep his house in order. “You think there’s going to be trouble? If that’s the case, you might want to take more than me along.” It showed the low level of criminal Joey Cavello was that he wasn’t taking an armed entourage along to pick up tonight’s shipment. Which made Damien more than a little twitchy. You’d think they were going to the grocery store to pick up a gallon of milk or some shit, not a half million dollars in narcotics. The kid was clueless.
    Joey snorted. “I take a big motherfucker like you along, ain’t no one gonna fuck with me.”
    Jesus. Damien was big, but he wasn’t Superman. It was his reputation that backed up his size, though, and Cavello knew that. Damien wondered how much Joey’s competition from the neighboring city would care.
    â€œDon’t be so sure.” He tucked the suitcase with the rest of the product under the bed and grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign to hang on the door. He led the way out and Joey followed him. “I’m down, though. Am I good to leave my luggage in the room? I don’t want anything happening to it.”
    â€œYou’re good,” Joey remarked. “As long as that door hanger’s up, no one will go in. Tabs runs a tight ship and everyone knows that when my crew is staying the weekend, they don’t like to be disturbed. And it’s in her best interest to keep me happy.”
    The threat inherent in Joey’s tone made Damien want to beat the fucker to the ground. His statement was yet another indicator that Tabitha might be helping him under duress, and though it didn’t pertain to his assignment in the least, he was bound and determined to get to the bottom of it.
    They hopped in Joey’s tricked-out Ford F-150 pickup and headed from the downtown area to the outskirts of the city, toward Gowen Field. Several shipping companies had their headquarters on the lots that skirted the freeway, and Joey followed Federal Way out to a fenced-in lot with a large warehouse. A sign that read LTC Inc. was hung on a chain-link fence and Joey stopped to enter a code on the automated gate that slid open with several jerks and squeaks of metal.
    Questions raised suspicion, and Damien had learned over the course of his undercover assignments that if he kept his eyes open and his mouth shut, he’d learn all he needed to without uttering a single word. Joey flicked his cigarette out the window before rolling it up and drove through the gate toward a large lot full of semitrailers. “The shit’s coming down from up north. So far, the state police don’t have a clue about what these trucks are really transporting. We’re talking high-tech shit. Hidden compartments that the dogs can’t even sniff through. It’s fucking genius, dude.”
    Ingenious, dude . For every undercover op Damien worked, he felt his IQ drop another notch. “Sweet.” Just to be safe, he’d have to fill Deputy Gates and the chief deputy in, make sure that the Idaho State Police gave the shipping company a wide berth, as well.
    â€œWhen I started distributing for this guy, I was setting up at the hotel one weekend a month. Now, I’m up to twice a month, and with this shipment, I’ll probably have you there every weekend from here on out. This guy is a fucking gold mine. I’m making bank, and if you stick around, I can guarantee you that you’ll be pulling in some serious cash.”
    What Joey didn’t know was that Lightfoot would be pulling his operation out of Idaho soon. And when that happened, he’d leave him high and dry. “You thinking of setting up shop somewhere else?