Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) (19 page)

But getting out without any further incident didn’t make her feel any better, or dislodge the fear sitting like a stone in her chest. Because Zee was still in that room.

She had no idea what his father wanted from him, but whatever it was, it was bad. She couldn’t leave him there to deal with it on his own. She had to get help. First thing to do would be to call the police, but she had the sense that if she called the police to tell them a man with a baseball had threatened her in Royal Road, they’d probably tell her to get in line.

No, she needed help and she needed help fast, and since there was only one other place she knew of in Royal to go to, that’s where she went.

Gideon’s.

It felt like it took forever to get there and this time she didn’t bother knocking, just pushed open the door and went right in.

Gideon was standing at the workbench, where he had a motorcycle up on a stand, fitting some piece of metal onto it. He turned as she came in, the smile that started to curve his mouth fading away as he caught the expression on her face.

“Tamara?” He dropped the piece of metal back on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“No . . . no, I’m not.” She came right up to him. “They’ve got Zee. You’ve got to help him. I don’t know what to do. I woke up and there was a guy with a baseball bat and he had others with him and—”

“Stop.” Gideon’s voice vibrated with command, and she found herself shutting up almost instantly.

His dark eyes had gone hard, but the hand that took her elbow and guided her to the plastic chair was gentle. “Now. Sit down and explain what happened properly.”

Her legs gave way and she collapsed into the chair, feeling like she’d run around half of Detroit. Fear burned inside her, but she fought it, taking a couple of deep breaths. “Okay, so you know about Zee’s father?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, I stayed with Zee last night. And when we woke up this morning, his father was standing in the bedroom.”

Gideon’s expression became blank, the black glimmer of his eyes the only sign of his fury. “When was this?”

“Now. I came from Zee’s straight here.” She took another breath. “Zee told me to get out so I don’t know what’s happening or what his father wants or anything. But . . . he’s by himself in there, Gideon. We have to help him.”

Gideon cursed, low and vicious. His gaze went to the office up the stairs, then he looked over at the entrance to the garage. “You gotta get out of here, Tamara. Because if they’ve got him, we’re gonna be next on the list. And if you wanna help Zee, the best thing you can do is be far away from here.”

“But—”

Loud voices drifted in from beyond the metal front doors, the sounds of car doors slamming.

Before she could say anything more, Gideon grabbed her elbow and hauled her out of the plastic chair, hurrying her to the back door of the garage.

“Wait, Gideon,” Tamara said breathlessly. “I can’t leave.”

He pushed the door open. “Yes, you fucking can. Go home, Tamara. Believe me, Zee wouldn’t want you messed up in this.”

She knew he was right, that there was nothing she could do to help Zee now. But pain had lodged in her chest, along with frustration and anger. Goddammit, she hated feeling so helpless like this.

“I want to know he’s okay,” she said fiercely, grabbing his arm and holding on tight. “I
have
to, Gideon. Please.”

Gideon stared at her a moment. Then he gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, okay, I promise I’ll let you know.” His voice deepened, that commanding note rumbling through it once more. “Now get the hell out of here.”

He gave her a little shove, pushing her out the door and locking it behind her.

Tamara stood there for a moment, suddenly cold and shaky.

There was no Zee now to take her in his arms and push her up against a wall. Do dirty things to her. He was having to confront the man who’d killed his girlfriend and he was having to do it alone.

She wrapped her arms around herself, taking yet another deep breath. Unfortunately though that meant inhaling the scent of him since she was still wearing his tee.

Her eyes prickled, but she blinked hard. No tears. Gideon was right, she had to get out of here, get back to safety. Zee didn’t need to be afraid for her as well as all the other shit he was no doubt having to deal with right now.

Forcing herself to move, Tamara quickly walked out of the garage’s parking lot and headed down the sidewalk, digging her phone out from her jeans as she did so and calling herself a cab.

It took fifteen minutes for the cab to arrive and then, once they were on the road, the morning traffic was horrendous. It reminded her suddenly that it was, of course, a workday and that she hadn’t even bothered to check the time.

Oh shit. This was going to be bad, she just knew it. And sure enough, when she checked her phone, she saw it was after nine.

Almost as soon as that fact settled over her, cold as a dusting of light snow, her phone rang. Of course it was Scott, no doubt checking to see where she was and why she wasn’t at her desk.

She hit the deny button and shoved her phone back in her pocket, fear still sitting like lead in her gut. Scott was the last person on earth she wanted to talk to right now and he could damn well wait until she was ready, work or not.

Once she’d gotten back to her apartment, she stripped off her clothes and got into the shower, trying to wash away the terrible cold feeling inside her. But unfortunately she didn’t feel any better as she got out again and dressed, going back into the kitchen on autopilot and putting coffee on.

Then she paced back and forth, unable to settle. Eventually she couldn’t put it off any longer and gave Scott a call, piling on the bullshit about having a cold and being too sick to come in. He sounded disbelieving and she couldn’t say she blamed him. She was full of shit and sounded it. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She didn’t know what Zee’s father was going to do to him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Zee was in danger. That his friends were in danger.

She went over to the couch and sat down, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

That’s what her parents had always said. Keep calm. Keep it under control. So that’s what she’d always done, fearful that somehow the thing that had made her pick up that gun and shoot her brother would escape again. That desperate fear, that intense anger.

She could feel it inside her now, burning a hole in her gut like acid, needing an outlet. Wanting to go help him, save him, protect him any way she could.

But what could she do? She’d only get in the way. Besides, it wasn’t her world. It wasn’t her problem and she definitely hadn’t fallen for him. He was only some guy she’d slept with a few times and told a few secrets to, and no doubt he could protect himself very well. He was the warrior. He didn’t need her.

It wasn’t as if he was special.

Tamara stared sightlessly at the windows opposite her.

She should chalk him up to experience, put him behind her once and for all. He was only supposed to be temporary in the first place, a chance to step outside herself if only for a moment. His life and his past weren’t anything to do with her.

That’s what he’d wanted anyway.

With an effort, Tamara forced away the feelings of helplessness, of anger, of frustration. The need and the longing and the sharp, painful thing that had taken root in her heart.

She kept it locked down and under control.

Then she called Scott back, told him she was feeling much better now.

Then she went to work as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Zee wiped away the last of the blood, then examined himself in the mirror. It was only a cut to go with all the rest. Only another bruise. Nothing major, no big deal. He wouldn’t even need stitches.

Somehow that made it even worse.

He dumped the bloody towel into the laundry hamper, then turned and walked out of the bedroom.

In the middle of the bed was the present his father had left him. The metal baseball bat, sleekly gleaming in the middle of the white quilt.

A part of him wanted to pick up that bat and take to the walls with it, smash great holes in the drywall, shatter the windows, break the bed. Let out the thick, black anger that seemed to be woven through the fabric of his very soul. And why not? Why the
fuck
shouldn’t he?

His father had given him two days to end his life in Royal and smashing shit up here would definitely be one way of saying good-bye. It was almost expected since he was, after all, Joshua’s son and causing a bit of property damage would probably end up being the least of his crimes.

No doubt his father had worse planned for him.

Zee took in a slow breath, his hands curling into fists.

What he really wanted to do was take that bat to his father’s smug face. Smash him into oblivion and his fucking empire with him. But of course he couldn’t. Not without putting at risk everyone he cared about. Everything that mattered to him.

Still, he’d managed to get one concession from his father—if Zee went back to him, Joshua would stay out of Royal for good. Joshua didn’t give a shit about much, but he’d always prided himself on being a man of his word and Zee had made him give it. Which meant that at least Royal was protected and that was something.

The anger inside him twisted. That was a promise he should never have made. He’d been naïve, stupid. Blinded by his grief for her and his desperate hope that she was right. That he was a better man. That he could make a difference.

She was wrong and so was he. He couldn’t escape his destiny any more than she’d been able to escape the car that had run her off the road. This was the way it was always going to end and the sooner he accepted it the better.

The fury cooled, hardened. No. Fuck no. He’d made the decision to stand and fight, and he would. Except now he’d have to do it in a way that would protect his friends, and that meant embracing his dark side fully. Going all the way.

He’d kill the fucker first opportunity he got. A suicide mission any way he looked at it, but so what? Royal would be safe and so would his friends. And most especially so would Tamara.

Seemed a fair trade.

A ragged bit of black fabric beside the bed caught his eye. Forcing himself to move, he went over and picked it up. It was a piece of soft cotton, expensive shit. One half of the tank top he’d torn off Tamara the previous night.

It felt as if someone had put their hands around his heart and squeezed hard.

He lifted the cotton and inhaled, smelling flowers and musk. All the soft, beautiful things he couldn’t have anymore. Could never have anymore. Her touch on his skin, gentle, as if he mattered. As if he was worth something.

His chest ached. No, he couldn’t think about what she’d said to him last night in the diner. He’d never been anyone’s knight, still less hers. At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about her. Waking up to find Joshua standing at the foot of the bed should have scared her into the middle of next week and with any luck, she’d never come down Royal way ever again.

The hands around his heart squeezed tighter and for a second he couldn’t breathe.

She’d felt good in his arms that morning. In the moments between waking and realizing they weren’t alone, the warmth of her there had felt . . . right. Christ, if only he’d had another couple of hours with her. Just the morning. The chance to say a proper good-bye . . .

Zee curled the fabric into a ball in his fist.

Fuck that. No point in thinking about it. They didn’t get a proper good-bye and that’s the way it should be. Better for her, better for him. Tamara was safe now and that’s the only thing that mattered.

He moved over to the wastebasket in the corner of the room and tossed the soft bit of fabric into it.

Dismissing Tamara utterly from his mind, Zee finished dressing, then he let himself out of his apartment and began heading in the direction of Gideon’s. Because the guy needed to know what was happening, the decision Zee had made. Gideon would probably be a prick about it, but that was too fucking bad. The deal was done already. Pity he wouldn’t be able to tell his friend his real plan, but that would involve Gideon trying to argue him out of it, no doubt. Zee couldn’t let that happen.

There was a black car parked discreetly down one end of the street, not far from the garage. No prizes for guessing who that was. One of Joshua’s men sent to keep an eye on Zee and those who mattered to him. Checking up to make sure Zee did what he was told, like the good son he now had to pretend to be.

Resisting the urge to flip the guy off, Zee pushed open the garage door and stepped inside, ignoring the familiar smells of engine oil and grease, forcing down the knowledge that this would be one of the last times he’d come here and the pain that came along with it.

Gideon was sprawled in the plastic chair, a beer in one hand despite the fact that it was relatively early in the morning. He looked like he was relaxing after a hard day’s work, except for the black flame of rage in his eyes.

Ice slid down Zee’s back. Fuck, looked like his goddamn father had paid Gideon a visit too.

Zee didn’t bother with a hello. “You okay? Zoe? Rachel?”

“Yeah.” Gideon didn’t ask him what he was talking about. Which meant that fucking Joshua had definitely been here. “We had an early heads-up. Tamara came here and told me what had gone down at your place so I sent Zoe to find Rachel and take her to my place.”