Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals)

by Jackie Ashenden

  Tamara blinked. Rose forgetting about hooking up was unheard of. It was also a little strange that her friend, the biggest man-eater out there, had gone out looking to go home with someone and hadn’t, while Tamara had gone out not looking to go home with anyone and had.

  Which you are not going to think about.

  That restless, edgy feeling curled in her gut. Dangerous . . .

  She picked up her coffee from the counter. Work, that’s clearly what she needed.

  Rose’s gaze had narrowed in the direction of her neck. “Hey, is that what I think it is?”

  Tamara groaned inwardly. Trust Rose to pick up on the damn hickey. Resisting the urge to pull her collar higher to hide it, she turned toward the door. “It’s nothing.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Spill, Lennox. Did something happen last night?”

  “No.”

  “Bull. Get an unexpected visit from your boyfriend, maybe?”

  Guilt turned over inside her, a small sharp thing. Would Robert even care she’d been with Zee?

  No. He wouldn’t. And you know it.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said, tossing Rose a secretive smile over her shoulder as she headed for the doorway.

  “Oh come on now,” Rose said disgustedly from behind her. “You have to tell me. Was it Zee? Did you hook up with him last night after we’d gone?”

  But Tamara only laughed and kept walking.

  No one would ever find out about Zee. No one. And maybe, if she was lucky, she’d even forget about it permanently herself.

  * * *

  “Hold still. This is going to hurt.”

  Zee let out a breath and waited patiently in one of the garage’s office chairs while Zoe began the process of sewing up the ragged cut on his eyebrow. She was wrong. It didn’t hurt. Or at least, he’d long since ceased to feel stuff like that.

  There was a disapproving look on her delicate face. “You shouldn’t be doing stitches yourself, not when you can’t sew for shit.”

  “The Band-Aid didn’t work and you know I can’t go the ER. I had to stop it bleeding somehow.”

  She snorted. “You should have called me.”

  “It was three in the morning, Zoe. I’m not waking you up in the middle of the night.” Especially not when all it needed was a couple of stitches. Though she had a point when she’d said he couldn’t sew for shit. He couldn’t.

  “You’re going to scar.”

  Zee lifted a shoulder. “Scarring is the least of my problems.” And what was a little scar in any case? He’d had worse. Anyway, the fight had been a good one, leaving him pleasantly hollowed out and empty. Calmer.

  “You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” Zoe commented as she neatly drew tight another stitch.

  “Am I?”

  “Uh-huh. Not thinking about that chick you took home last night?”

  A flash of unexpected and very unwelcome heat went through him at the mention of Tamara.

  That was the other great thing about the fight: He hadn’t thought of her once since.

  Damn Zoe.

  “Her? She turned up at the class with a friend.” He shifted in his seat, earning him another stern look. “Her friend went off to that new club, Anonymous, and she didn’t want to go. So I offered her a ride.”

  Zoe pulled tight a stitch, then leaned in for another, the needle sliding under his skin. Fuck, he felt that one. “Generous of you.”

  “Yeah, well, girls like her don’t normally turn up for those classes. And she was dressed up in all that designer shit. Couldn’t leave her waiting around on the curb for a taxi. She’d have been eaten alive.”

  Zoe nodded. Both of them knew the truth of that. Royal Road might be among Detroit’s up-and-coming neighborhoods, but it wasn’t there yet. It could get dangerous at night, especially if you weren’t a local or didn’t know what you were doing.

  The clang of the downstairs door echoed through the garage and Zee didn’t miss the sudden, bright flash that crossed Zoe’s face as she tied off the last stitch.

  Gideon was clearly back.

  Zee didn’t know quite what was going on with those two, but it was majorly obvious to everyone that Zoe had a giant crush on Gideon. Kind of wrong when he was her foster brother. Then again, it wasn’t any wonder. Zee didn’t know their background—Gideon never spoke of it and Zee never asked—but apparently Zoe had been fostered into the same family as Gideon. She was quite a bit younger than him and when he’d aged out of the system they’d stayed in touch. Then something had happened and Zoe had run away and Gideon had somehow rescued her, which, if you knew Gideon, was pretty much par for the course since the guy had a white knight complex a mile wide. Whatever had happened, the result was a bad case of hero worship on Zoe’s part that Gideon was completely blind to.

  It was kind of cute.

  Zee met her gaze and watched the color rise under her smooth, light brown skin. She turned away sharply, fiddling with the medical kit she’d gotten out to stitch Zee up with.

  Yeah, she had it bad all right. Damn shame, especially when Zee was pretty certain Gideon would never, ever see her as a woman. Hell, Gideon didn’t much like it when other people saw her as a woman.

  Footsteps came up the stairs, the door opening to admit the guy himself.

  “Christ,” he said, taking one look at Zee’s face. “Good fight then?”

  “I won, so yeah.” There was another office chair on casters nearby. With a lazy movement of his foot, Zee sent it rolling across the floor to the other man.

  Zoe finished packing away the medical kit, turning as Gideon grabbed the chair and sat down. Her arms were folded across her chest, a crease between her brows. “So? Is it true?”

  Zee raised the non-stitched eyebrow in Gideon’s direction.

  “Levi.” Gideon blew out a breath. “Just been visiting him.”

  Levi was the fourth member of the little makeshift family Gideon had drawn together ten years ago, back when they’d all been lonely, unwanted teens at the Royal Road teen drop-in center.

  He was currently in jail, doing time for manslaughter.

  They tried not to mention Levi when Rachel was around, since the whole reason Levi was doing time was because of a mistake she’d made eight years ago, when she’d been young and stupid. Levi had protected her from an assault and in the process had accidentally killed the guy who’d been assaulting her.

  He’d been away for eight years, but since he’d been a model prisoner his lawyer had managed to get his sentence reduced. It looked like he was going to be getting out pretty soon.

  “And?” Zoe prompted. “What did he say, Gideon?”

  The other man leaned back, pushing a hand through his shaggy black hair. Then he grinned. “So impatient, little one.”

  “Oh come on!”

  “Okay, okay. Yes, he’s getting out. Another month tops.”

  The beginnings of a hopeful smile turned Zoe’s mouth. “Seriously? That’s it? Another month?”

  “Yeah. I told him he could stay with me while he gets himself back on his feet.”

  Zee could feel his own grin happening. They’d all been gutted when the shit had gone down with Rachel, and Gideon had done his damnedest to help Levi. He’d gotten him the best lawyer he could find on legal aid, but of course, there was no escaping the fact that Levi had killed a guy.

  The incident had struck close to home for Zee and, at the time, he’d debated about whether or not just to leave Royal Road altogether. It had felt too much like what he’d just escaped from, the seedy, violent world of big-time crime that his father had ruled with an iron fist. And it wasn’t what Madison had wanted for him. She’d told him he was better than merely being Joshua Chase’s son, heir to violence and murder. She’d told him he was a good man, that he should want more for himself.

  And he’d believed her. He had to, because, fuck, her death had to mean something.

  In the end though, despite what had happened with Levi, Zee had decided to
stay in Royal. Gideon had taken him in, given him a job, given him a new start and he couldn’t just up and leave. No, none of them knew what Zee had left behind, that Ezekiel wasn’t even his real name, but he couldn’t leave without explanation. Not only did he owe Madison, he owed Gideon, too.

  So he’d stayed and now, here he was, eight years later, and he had the kind of life that at last he could be proud of. That Madison would have been proud of. He had a job, his own place—hell, he had his own fucking building. He kept the darkness inside him nicely controlled. He was giving back to the community and he had big plans for the future, plans that included expanding his gym, getting that teen program up and running, training and teaching kids. Hiring more staff. Getting a proper business going.

  Royal Road need more shit like that. There were already lots of revitalization projects happening, projects that were injecting new life and hope into a neighborhood that had suffered a lot when the auto industry had gone bust. Things were starting to get good here and as far as Zee was concerned, they were going to stay good.

  Now that Levi was coming home, things would be even better.

  Except, of course, that at some point he was going to have to tell Gideon he was quitting the garage. Which he wasn’t looking forward to. But shit, he couldn’t stay at Black’s, not when he wanted to concentrate on his plans for the gym.

  “How was he?” Zee asked.

  “Seemed okay. Looking forward to getting out.” Gideon gave Zee a narrow glance. “You get that pretty little thing you gave a ride to last night home safely?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Good.” Gideon’s gaze was vaguely assessing. “What the hell was she doing hanging around your classes anyway?”

  “Like I said, she was with a friend of hers.”

  “Bit fucking strange to come down this end of town just to hang around and watch.”

  And just like that, Zee’s good mood began to dissipate. Christ, and he thought he was the paranoid one. “It’s no big deal. I get all sorts at the classes.”

  “Don’t normally take them home though.” The other man’s dark eyes narrowed, his big body going still in his chair.

  Zee stared at him. “Is there a problem, Gideon?”

  Zoe snorted. “And here I thought we were going to be talking about how great it was that Levi will be home soon.”

  Gideon glanced at her, and there was a moment’s heavy silence. Then he sighed and the strange tension faded. “There’s no problem.” He leaned forward in his chair, his hands between his knees. “Truth is, I’m worried about Levi. I don’t think he is okay.”

  “Like how?” The worried crease was back between Zoe’s brows.

  Slowly, Gideon shook his head. “He doesn’t smile like he used to, doesn’t laugh. He’s changed. And I get the impression that he’s pretty fucking angry.”

  “Not surprised,” Zee said. “Eight years of time will do that to you.” He’d seen the ex-cons his father had used for various jobs, knew the kind of anger that seemed to radiate off them. They were mean motherfuckers and they hadn’t gotten that way because jail was an easy way out.

  “He’s gonna need help.” Gideon paused and looked at both of them. “And I’m gonna have to tell Rachel.”

  No one knew exactly what had happened between Levi and Rachel the night she’d been attacked, but what they did know was that it had changed her. She’d always been a firecracker, but over the years she’d gotten harder, pricklier. Defensive. Not an easy person to be with in many ways and how she was going to take this news was anyone’s guess.

  One thing was clear to all of them though—Rachel blamed herself for Levi’s jail time. And she was pissed about it.

  “That’s gonna be hell,” Zee muttered.

  “Yeah, I know. But she’ll have to find out at some point and probably the earlier the better.”

  “True.” He gave Gideon a look. “I suppose now is a shitty time to hand in my notice?”

  Zoe blinked. “What the hell, Zee?”

  Gideon just stared back, the beginning of a smile curling his mouth. “I’ve been wondering when this was coming.”

  Zee scowled. Jesus, don’t say all his worrying about Gideon’s reaction was all for nothing? “What do you mean you’ve ‘been wondering’?”

  “Well, you’ve gotten that gym up and running, and you told me you’ve been talking with the outreach center. I know your heart isn’t in the garage. Shit, it never really was.”

  That was true. Though he liked fixing cars, liked putting pieces together and making them go, or analyzing a mechanical problem and finding a solution, it wasn’t really what he wanted. Fixing cars was one thing, but fixing broken people, broken communities was better.

  It was what Madison would have wanted him to do.

  “You don’t look very unhappy about it,” Zee commented, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair.

  “I’m not. In fact, it’s perfect timing.”

  “What do you mean perfect timing?”

  Zoe was grinning. “I see where you’re going with this.”

  “Uh-huh.” Gideon smiled. “Poor Levi’s gonna need a job. Do you think you could stay until then?”

  Chapter 5

  Tamara smoothed the white linen napkin over her knees and tried once more to see if she could read the expression on her father’s face.

  He’d descended from his top floor CEO’s office to take her out to dinner right at five P.M., waving off her protestations that she had to work late. Scott had been very magnanimous despite spending the whole week keeping her under his thumb, granting her the evening off with much bonhomie and obvious sucking up, though of course this was going to come back to bite her. Scott’s eyes had been cold as he’d told her that naturally she could go have dinner with her father and she knew he was viewing this as favoritism.

  She’d tried to have a conversation once with her father about Scott, but he’d waved it off, telling her that she’d always come up against bosses she found difficult and she’d just have to find a way to work with it.

  John Lennox always hated complaints so she’d shut up after that. Because, after all, he wasn’t wrong. Showing him she could handle it was the better way to deal with it anyway.

  She studied him now as they sat in one of Detroit’s newest restaurants and the source of much buzz, but the expression on his slightly hawkish face was impenetrable. He’d long perfected the art of showing only what he wanted other people to see, so why she was even bothering to figure out what this dinner was about she didn’t know. And it was about something, that was for sure.

  Her father always made a big production about everything when he wanted to talk.

  “So, Dad,” Tamara said after the waiter had taken their order and filled up their wineglasses. “Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?”

  He picked up his wineglass and leaned back in his chair, a smile hovering around his mouth. His dark eyes were full of what could only be termed satisfaction and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. “I just wanted you to know, Tamara, how happy your mother and I are with you at the moment.”

  She should have felt glad about that, because her dad didn’t often hand out praise, so when he did, it meant a lot. But for some reason it wasn’t pleasure that sat in her gut but apprehension.

  “Well, thanks. You know I appreciate all you and Mom have done for me.” She smoothed her napkin again, because they were edging into dangerous territory. “I want to make you proud.”

  He nodded. “Of course and you have. Very proud indeed. In fact, I hope to hear good news at the end of the month from Scott.”

  She ignored the apprehension that wound deeper. “That’s the plan.”

  “Good.” He took a sip of wine, studying her. “And I suppose that brings me to the point of this dinner.” Another pause. “Your future is looking very bright, Tamara, and your mother and I just want to be sure you’re heading in the right direction.”
<
br />   Carefully she reached out for her own glass and held it, trying to still the shake of her hand. There was no reason to be nervous about this and she couldn’t think why she was. “Oh? That sounds ominous.” She tried a smile to help lighten her mood.

  Her father smiled back. “Of course it’s not ominous. I meant what I said—we’re very proud of you. It’s only that the next step will be an important one for you and one that’s going to ensure your success.” He took another sip from his glass. “So we want to make sure that the next step is the right one.”

  The apprehension in her gut churned. “And what’s the right step?”

  Her dad leaned forward, putting his glass on the table and clasping his hands together. “You and Robert are pretty serious, aren’t you?”

  She blinked at the question, not expecting it. “I . . . suppose we are. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Well, you’re getting your career set up nicely, but that’s not the only part of your life you need to consider.” He gave a small self-conscious laugh. “Boy, I really wanted your mom to broach this with you.”

  Tamara’s grip on her wineglass tightened. “Broach what?”

  “Okay, well, your mom and I wondered if you and Robert have thought about tying the knot.”

  She stared at him. Marriage? Was he serious? “Uh, no. Robert and I haven’t . . . I mean . . . we’re not at that stage yet.”

  Her father’s smile didn’t change. “We think you should consider it. We like him, he comes from a great family, and he’s got a great future ahead of him too. Your mom and I think you and he would make a great team.”

  Trying to mask her shock, Tamara took a swallow of wine. But it only sat in her stomach acidly, making her feel a bit sick. She put the glass down again, her hands returning to the napkin spread over her lap. “That’s . . . uh . . . good you think that, obviously. But . . . I’m not sure I’m ready for that step yet.”