Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) (23 page)

His father’s expression abruptly wiped clean. “She can’t do that.”

“Yeah? Guess you’ll find out if you kill me.” He turned around. How weird to feel like something heavy had fallen from him, a weight he’d been carrying for years that he hadn’t realized was there until now.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me, boy,” Joshua growled from behind him. “I can make you wish you’d never been born.”

Zee paused, but he didn’t turn. “Touch her, touch any of my friends, or touch Royal and I’ll give Tamara the go-ahead to get her dad to pull the pledge. And you can say good-bye to being mayor.”

There was silence behind him for a long time.

“So that’s what you’re gonna go back to?” Joshua finally said. “Your sad life in that shithole you call a neighborhood? You’re right. I should have killed you when I had a chance. Done us both a fucking favor.”

“Yeah,” Zee said. “You should have. But you didn’t. And hey, whaddya know? I’m not like you after all.”

He walked out of the warehouse, his father still hurling curses at his back.

But no shots came after him. And it wasn’t until he’d gotten to his car and pulled open the door that he realized that if he was still alive it was because his bluff had worked. And maybe, if he was lucky, it would keep on working.

Zee got into the Trans Am and slammed the door, started the car.

If that happened, then Zee would just have to find another way to protect her. Because, shit, he wasn’t going to let her punish herself for the rest of her life. She’d wanted something more than that and apparently that something was him. He couldn’t understand why that was when all he’d done was push her away, but shit, if that’s what she wanted, then that’s what she’d get.

She deserved to have it.

Zee pulled away from the warehouse, tires screeching, and he didn’t look behind him to see if anyone was following him. Something told him they wouldn’t be.

* * *

Tamara sat on the couch in the drawing room, her mother sitting on one side of her, Robert on the other. He was holding her hand in a proprietary kind of way as he chatted to one of her parents’ friends, the smug sound of his voice washing over her like warm oil.

There was nothing gritty in his tone. Nothing harsh. He sounded well educated and well spoken, exactly like the rich New York stockbroker he was. And she shouldn’t hate that, she really shouldn’t.

She’d allowed herself one moment to cry, but that was it. The mask shouldn’t drop again. She was in costume, the role was hers for good now, and she had to play it to the end. No point thinking about anything else.

This was for Will. For her parents. She had to stay focused on that.

She kept a smile plastered to her face, feeling more than ever like the diamond in her engagement ring, forced to sit between her mother and Robert, kept there. Held there. Forever pinned in her setting.

Maybe it wasn’t strictly true, because of course she could choose to walk away if she wanted to. But she wasn’t going to. Will had never been given the chance to walk away. Will had never been given any chances at all. So what right had she, as his killer, to do so? Zee had been right; running away definitely wasn’t the answer.

Yet all the rationalizations in the world didn’t stop her throat from feeling tight and sore, or keep the walls of the drawing room from closing in around her.

Or make the memory of Zee’s cold, hard expression as he’d told her to stay away from him any less painful.

She’d thought for a moment, as she had stood in the darkness by his car and told him about Robert, about the party, that maybe he’d changed his mind about saying good-bye. Because he’d been so angry, the aura of leashed violence around him almost vibrating in the air. And she’d seen something in his eyes, something possessive and hot, and all the words had come spilling out. Secret hopes she hadn’t even realized herself until right at that moment. That together they’d take down his father with the information she’d gotten, that they’d both be free. She’d get in his car and they’d drive away, she didn’t care where.

Because all that seemed important in that moment was being with him.

Except he didn’t feel that way. She could understand it. He was still paying his debt to his girlfriend and that was more important to him.

Tamara’s vision blurred, the colors of the Persian rug on the floor all blending together, reds and blues and golds. She blinked. Hard.

No, she had to get it together. Zee was gone for good, wherever he’d gone, and she had to get him out of her head once and for all.

This was her life now and she had to accept it.

Voices drifted in from the hallway. Loud voices.

The conversation in the room began to fall silent as people’s heads turned in the direction of the doors.

Tamara could hear her father talking angrily to someone and someone saying something back in a low, harsh, gritty voice.

She froze, every muscle tensing.

No, it couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. He was gone; he’d let her walk away.

Then suddenly the doors crashed open, bouncing on their hinges, and everyone in the entire room stared and fell silent in shock as a man strode through the doorway.

Tall, dark, tattooed. In a faded black T-shirt and worn jeans, scuffed motorcycle boots on his feet. Violence rode the air around him, menace pouring off him in a wave, and those closest to the door scrambled back as if even getting anywhere near him was dangerous.

His intense, beautiful face was drawn tight with determination, eyes the color of polished steel glinting. He paused, sweeping the room with a glance so sharp it cut like a scythe. Then it settled on her and she trembled, something squeezing so hard in her chest she thought she might break.

Because he was here, in front of her entire family and everyone she knew. He’d come for her.

He didn’t pause, coming straight toward her, and they may have been the only people in the entire room for all the notice he took of the crowd of her parents’ friends all gathered around.

Behind him she could hear her father shouting something about calling the police and trespassing, and a couple of male guests had started to approach, obviously with the intention of escorting him from the house. But it looked like they hadn’t quite gotten up the gumption yet because they kept eyeing him warily, as if he were a bomb that might go off.

Beside her, Robert had risen to his feet, his expression full of righteous anger. He said something, but Tamara couldn’t hear him. There was a roaring in her ears, her blood rushing hard through her veins.

Zee stopped right in front of her, towering over her, not even looking at Robert. “You said you wanted to come with me.” The gravel in his voice was like cold air after a sauna, waking her up, kicking her out of her lethargy. “So come with me.”

More people were shouting and one of the men made a motion toward Zee, but Zee just snapped his head around and stared the man down like he was controlling a vicious dog.

Robert started speaking and suddenly that soothing-oil voice of his was the last thing in the world she wanted to hear.

“Shut the fuck up, Robert,” she snapped, and a wave of shock rolled around the room.

“Tamara!” her mother exclaimed.

“You too, Mom,” Tamara cut her off. Then she looked at Zee, her heart beating wildly in her chest, his silver gaze meeting hers.

Shaking off Robert’s hand, she rose to her feet.

Zee was close enough that when she stood there were only bare inches between them. She could feel the rough, raw heat of him, so out of place in her parents’ carefully decorated living room, like a scrawl of graffiti across an Old Master.

God, he was dangerous, all leashed violence and lightning. Making everyone else in the room seem insubstantial and blurry. As if he was the only one in focus.

“Why?” She had to force the word out, yet she made herself do it. Because suddenly it was all becoming very clear what she wanted. But she was done with putting it all out there for him and having it thrown back in her face. She wanted to hear it from him first. “Give me one good reason.”

* * *

This was worse than the ring. Because at least in the ring he knew what he was doing and he felt like he belonged. And his opponent was here for the same thing he was.

Everyone knew where they stood and what to expect.

But here in this fucking fancy room full of fucking fancy people all staring at him, he was out of his depth. He didn’t know the rules. Part of him wanted to put up his fists and start swinging, impose his own rules on people, return to what he knew, what he was comfortable with.

Yet that wasn’t what he was here for.

What he was here for was standing in front of him right now, with her golden hair all up in that sleek ponytail. In her blue dress with the sequins glittering, that left her shoulders bare and all that perfect, smooth skin on show. Whose dark eyes, deep and soft as the night outside the windows, met his. They were full of shock and wariness, and yet despite all he’d done, there were glimmers of the hope he’d seen in them before. It was that hope that caught him full in the chest, a kick to the heart.

It struck him, forcibly, that he wasn’t only here for her sake. He was here for his, too.

Fucking hell.

He’d never asked for anything from anyone, because he’d always made sure he never wanted anything.

But he did now. He could feel it inside him, that hungry, desperate ache, that terrible yearning. It was growing, getting larger and larger all the time, and Jesus, if he didn’t get what he wanted, he didn’t know what he would do.

The only thing he did know was that here in this beautiful, perfect room full of people, where he didn’t belong, he was going to have to ask her. Fuck, he’d beg if he had to, humiliate himself in front of everyone. If only she’d give him what he wanted.

So Zee dropped to his knees in front of her, keeping his gaze on hers, hoping like hell that the glimmer he’d seen in her eyes when he’d walked into the room was what he thought it was.

Everyone in the entire room fell silent, staring.

“I’m not good with words,” he said, hating how his voice sounded like sandpaper scraping across vulnerable skin. “I can’t put it so it’s all pretty and poetic. And I can’t give you what you got here. A fancy house and career and a fucking diamond ring. I haven’t got anything at all. The only thing I got is me. So here I am.” He took a breath, staring into the darkness of her eyes, the room around them utterly silent. It was a wonder no one could hear his heart since it was beating so fucking loud. “I want you to come with me, because you deserve more than a prison sentence, pretty girl. And so do I.”

Tamara didn’t speak, the look on her face absolutely unreadable, and it came to him that he’d never been so scared in all his fucking life.

Then her throat moved as she swallowed, and she turned to the smug prick standing beside her, the one who’d been holding her hand so possessively. The one Zee had wanted to punch with every breath in him.

“Here,” Tamara said, and with a quick movement she pulled off the diamond ring on her finger and dropped it into his hand. “I’m sorry, Robert. I’m not marrying you.”

Zee found his hands were in fists, his heart pulling wildly against the leash he’d put around it, slamming against the walls of his chest as if it could claw its way out. “Tamara.” He forced himself to say it. “Remember. I’m just a mechanic in a shitty part of Detroit. A guy who likes letting off steam with his fists. I’m nothing much at all. So be sure about what you’re gonna do. About what you’re gonna leave behind. Be real sure.”

But there was nothing guarded in her face now, nothing wary. “I know what you are, Zee.” The words were heavy with certainty, with truth. “I know
who
you are. You’re exactly what I want. Exactly. So yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never been surer in my entire life.”

He could feel it now, something strong and hot surging in his veins. A hope he’d never allowed himself. A hope he’d never allowed himself to even think about. He got to his feet in a sudden rush, trying to still the weird shake that went right through him. “You don’t want me to do anything?” he asked, because he had to. Because the only people who’d taken him for who he was had been his friends. Even Madison had wanted him to be something else, something more. “You don’t want me to be anything?”

“No,” Tamara whispered, her hands raised as if wanting to touch him but not daring to quite yet. “I just want you.”

Somebody said something then, but Zee ignored it. In fact, he pretty much ignored everything but the woman standing in front of him, staring at him as if he was the only thing in the entire world worth looking at. Which he was certain he didn’t deserve, but fuck that. He’d never had anything like this before. Never felt anything like this before.

It wasn’t the right place or the right time, not with all these people standing there staring at them, but he suddenly didn’t give a shit. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

Reaching for her, Zee put one hand behind her head, pushing his fingers into the warm silk of her hair, while he slid the other hand behind her, settling it into the small of her back and drawing her in. Tipping her head back so her mouth was right there.

Then he covered it with his own. A deep, possessive kiss that told everyone in the fucking room exactly whose she was.

She didn’t protest. She only opened her mouth and kissed him back.

And this time it wasn’t darkness he tasted in her kiss but pure, unwavering light.

* * *

She’d never been able to resist him and she didn’t now. And the fact that Zee was kissing her in her parents’ living room, in front of all their family and friends, didn’t matter a bit.