He smiled, making her heart turn over. “It’s probably Rachel wondering where the hell I am. I was supposed to meet them at Gino’s last night.”
“Then I guess we should be glad they’re not battering down the door by now.”
“After you fell asleep last night, I sent them a text telling them I wouldn’t be there.”
She flushed, a vague memory of rolling over and closing her eyes for a second coming back to her. “Oh.”
“You must have been tired.” He slid his hand over her hip, stroking her, making her want to purr like a cat. “Where did you come from?”
“LA. I mean, with about twenty stops between LA and here.”
His eyes widened. “You went to LA?”
“Yeah.” She sighed, running her fingers down the strong column of his neck, loving the feeling of his skin beneath hers. “I wanted to get as far away from Detroit as I could.”
He frowned. “You were okay?”
“Well, obviously.” She stroked his shoulder. “I went to Disneyland. Beverly Hills. Saw the sea. Got chatted up by some guy.”
His frown deepened. “Am I gonna have to kill him?”
She grinned. “You know, if anyone else said that, I would have thought they’d be joking.”
“I’m not joking.”
Zoe laughed. “I know. But don’t worry. I wasn’t interested. I’m not interested in anyone but you.”
“Better not be.” The hand on her side slid over her butt, cupping her, then squeezing slightly, a gentle pressure that made her shiver with delight.
“The others are going to hate this, aren’t they?” she asked, trailing her fingers over his chest. “My being with you.”
His grim expression eased. “They’ll get used to it. After all, nothing’s gonna change as far as they’re concerned.”
“Well, that’s true.”
There was a comfortable silence for a long time.
Then Gideon said quietly, “I meant it, you know.”
“Meant what?”
“That I love you. You’re my soul. You always have been.”
Zoe put her hand on his chest, right above his heart. The emptiness inside her had gone, filled up with something else. Something bright. And maybe something a little dark, too. Because that was Gideon, the dark and the light.
“And you’re mine,” she said simply.
His hand covered hers, and for a moment they lay there not speaking, the truth between them in all its wonderful, terrible glory.
Then his mouth curved. “You know what day it is today?”
She blinked at him. “Um. It’s Sunday.”
“Yeah. And you know what we do on Sundays, don’t you?” Oh. Her chest got tight. “P-pancakes?” she stuttered like the fool she was.
His smile was very special and only for her. “Pancakes.”
Finally. She was home.
Epilogue
“You know they’re going to be pissed I didn’t say good-bye,” Zoe said, taking the bike helmet he held out to her. “Again.”
Gideon grinned, adjusting his own helmet. “They’ll cope. Anyway, I didn’t think you needed Rach flapping around making sure you were gonna be okay.”
She rolled her eyes and he laughed. Rachel had only just found out she was pregnant and was currently acting crazy, not that Levi was any better. Both of them had been very concerned about Zoe leaving for college, and it didn’t make any difference that Gideon was taking her to Ann Arbor and making sure she was settled. They’d still been acting like a couple of overprotective parents. Which is kind of what they were.
“You’ll give them my love, won’t you?” Zoe asked after a moment, putting on her helmet and doing up the strap. “And to Zee and Tamara?”
“Yeah, of course.” He brushed her hands away, making sure the strap was secure. Her eyes had gone very large and there was a certain amount of anxiousness in them. “Hey,” he murmured, wanting to reassure her. “It’s not like you’re gonna be in Greenland or anything. It’s only Ann Arbor.”
She’d been accepted into the University of Michigan a couple of months earlier, and though she’d been ecstatic at the time, Gideon knew that the reality of leaving Royal wouldn’t set in until the time to leave had actually arrived.
Which it had.
“I know. I’m . . . nervous. And I kind of don’t want to leave.”
“And I don’t want you to go. But you need to. We discussed this, remember?”
Leaving for college had been Zoe’s decision, and he’d been okay with it. Well, not okay, because fundamentally he didn’t want her to ever leave him again. But one thing they were both clear on: She needed to get out of Royal, experience life, occupy that brain of hers with more than office spreadsheets.
“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered croakily.
He cupped her vivid little face in his hands, knowing he was going to have to tell her the surprise he’d been hoping to save until they’d gotten to their destination, because he couldn’t bear to see her upset. “You don’t have to miss me, little one.”
She frowned. “What? Why not?”
“I was saving it as a surprise, but I hate seeing you cry.” He stroked her jawline gently. “I got us a place near the college. Gonna let the apartment here while we’re away.”
Zoe blinked, looking puzzled. “But you told me I was going to be in a dorm and have roommates and . . . stuff.”
“Do you want roommates and stuff? I don’t wanna deprive you of a genuine college experience.”
For a second she stared at him, the crease between her brows not budging. Then she asked, “What about the garage?”
“It’s not far up the freeway. And I don’t mind the commute.” He stroked her bottom lip. “But I’m serious, if you don’t want me hanging around and cramping your style—”
He never got to finish because Zoe abruptly rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him hard.
“Are you mad?” she said breathlessly when she’d finished. “You really think I’d pick some stranger for a roommate over you?” The crease had gone from between her brows and she was flushed. “But are you sure, Gideon? Royal’s been so important to you for so long.”
He let out a breath, wishing the journey had already ended and they were in the apartment he’d picked for them a week or so earlier. Where he could lay her down in the bright new bedroom with the extra-large king-size bed, show her what was really important to him. Because the decision had been an easy one to make. He needed to be wherever she was, simple as that.
“Home is where you are, Zoe,” he said quietly. “Always has been.”
She got a little misty-eyed at that, not saying a word, but kissing him instead. Which was totally fine by him.
A minute or so later, both of them breathless, he finally let her go and turned to his Harley, the saddlebags already packed. The removal guys would be here soon to deal with packing up the apartment, but it would take a few days before the place in Ann Arbor would be ready. So he’d planned on taking Zoe for a road trip first.
“By the way,” he said casually, as he helped her onto the massive bike. “I hope you brought your swimsuit.”
“Uh, no. Why?”
“Because we’re going to Ann Arbor by way of Cape Cod.”
Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. “What?”
“You saw the sea in LA. But I haven’t. Thought you might wanna show it to me.”
The joy in her face reached right inside him, wrapped itself around his heart. “Oh my God, of course I would!” She flapped her hands at him. “Get on the goddamn bike and let’s get out of here!”
He laughed and got on the goddamn bike.
And when she put her arms around him, holding on tight as they left Royal, he didn’t look behind him.
He didn’t need to.
Acknowledgments
Once again to my editor, Martin Biro, and my agent, Helen Breitwieser, thanks so much for your hard work with this series. And to all the folks at
Kensington for theirs.
Also to my three best ladies. You know who you are.
If you enjoyed Sin for Me, be sure you
don’t miss the first book in Jackie Ashenden’s
scorching Motor City Royals series
WRONG FOR ME
After eight years in prison, Levi Rush is finally out and back on the gritty streets of Detroit to claim the future he was owed. A future that includes the one woman he’s wanted for years—his former best friend, Rachel. She’s the reason he went inside, and if getting her to do what he wants means buying the building that houses her tattoo studio and using it as leverage, then that’s what he’ll do. Because if there’s one thing he’s learned inside, it’s that if you want to win, you have to play dirty.
Rachel Hamilton is a tattoo artist and one hell of a tough girl. Detroit is her home, and she’s determined to make it a better place. But her plans are threatened when her old friend Levi reappears and gives her an ultimatum: She gives herself to him body and soul, or else she and her business are out on the street. Levi’s got no room in his heart for anything but anger and the lust he’s been carrying around for so long. But the only thing stronger than the secrets of their shared past is their fiery attraction to each other....
Keep reading for a special excerpt.
A Kensington trade paperback and e-book on sale now!
Chapter 1
Rachel Hamilton came to a stop outside the battered metal roller door that was the entrance to Black’s Vintage Repair and Restoration, the motorcycle repair shop owned by her friend Gideon Black. She took a breath.
The acid eating a hole in her gut wasn’t from fear.
It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Levi was back.
It was only because she hadn’t felt like breakfast that morning and hadn’t eaten anything. Perfectly understandable and explainable. Nothing whatsoever to do with how sick she’d felt, how her stomach kept turning over and over like a gymnast doing a complicated floor routine whenever she thought about Levi getting out of jail.
Nope. Nothing whatsoever to do with that.
Her palms were damp, but that was because it was hot. Same with her dry mouth. She should have had some water or something.
But you didn’t because you would have thrown it up.
Rachel closed her eyes.
No fear. None. That’s what had gotten her through life so far, and that’s what would get her through this. She just had to pull her armor on, pretend she gave no fucks whatsoever. It was the only way to protect herself. It was the only way to deal with the man who’d been inside for eight years.
The man she’d put there herself.
Her former best friend.
Oh Jesus. She was shaking.
Okay, so perhaps she shouldn’t think about that. She should think about how many fucks she gave instead. Which was none at all.
But naturally all the pep talks in the entire universe weren’t going to help, and, when she opened her eyes, the nausea was still sitting right there and she was still shaking like a leaf.
Get. Yourself. The. Hell. Together.
Mentally she put herself in her usual snarky, sarcastic armor, the one specially designed to keep the world at bay, as she dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Her nails were nice and long these days, so they hurt biting into her skin. But that was good, and she welcomed the pain. It helped her focus, helped her center herself.
Taking another breath, she pushed open the small metal door inset into the big roller one, and stepped into Gideon’s garage.
For a second she paused, trying to normalize her breathing, letting the familiarity of the garage settle her. It had always been a safe place for her, somewhere to go when she needed company, a good friend, a sympathetic ear. Gideon had gathered together a small group of kids from the Royal Road Outreach Center years ago, kids who were alone in the world, and even now, a decade later, they remained close friends. Gideon, Zoe, Zee and Levi. They were still there for one another, still looked out for one another.
Except you didn’t. You weren’t there when Levi needed you most.
Rachel swallowed, ignoring the thought. She couldn’t afford to be thinking that kind of shit, not now. Not when she was barely holding it together as it was.
The smell of engine grease and oil filled her lungs. It was a comforting smell. There was a big metal shelf and a classic Cadillac up on a hoist blocking her vision, but she could hear the sound of voices. Gideon’s, deep and rough, and Zoe’s lighter tones. And then someone else’s . . .
Rachel stilled, the sound going through her, painful as a sliver of glass pushed beneath her skin.
A masculine voice. One that used to be deep and rich, full of laughter and bright with optimism. A warm, encouraging, friendly voice. One that used to make her heart feel lighter whenever she heard it. But now . . . now it sounded dark, with a roughness that hadn’t been there before. Like the voice of someone unused to speaking aloud.
Levi.
A shiver ran the entire length of her body.
He was here, only a few feet away. After eight years.
Come on. You have to do this. Stop being such a fucking coward.
She forced herself to move forward, past the metal shelf, heading down toward the end of the garage where a long workshop counter was positioned against the wall beneath a massive row of grimy windows, some with different colored panes of glass.
The summer sun was shining through those windows, illuminating Zoe, small and slender, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail, sitting on the counter with her legs dangling. Beside her was Gideon in his blue overalls, all shaggy black hair and heavily muscled shoulders, leaning back with his arms folded.
Another man stood with his back to her. He was as tall as Gideon, which was pretty goddamn tall at nearly six four, and built just as massively. The cotton of his black T-shirt stretched over shoulders that would have done a gladiator proud, while his jeans hung low on his lean hips. The combination of sun through the dirty windows and harsh fluorescent lighting of the garage drew out shades of tawny and deep gold in his shaggy dark hair.
Her heart twisted painfully hard.
She remembered those shoulders, that lean waist, that dark hair turning gold in some lights. Except he’d been . . . not quite as built back then. He’d been thinner, more greyhound than Rottweiler, and his hair had been cut short.
He’s changed.
Well, of course he had. No one went to prison for eight years and came out the same person.
Perhaps if you’d even gone to see him once in all that time . . .
She blinked hard, digging her nails deeper, using the pain to focus once more.
And maybe she’d made a sound of some kind, an inadvertent gasp or the soles of her platform motorcycle boots scraping on the rough concrete floor, because suddenly, the man standing there with his back to her swung around.
She stopped dead, as if that sliver of glass had finally reached her heart.
Levi looked the same. Exactly the same. Still shockingly handsome with the strong line of his jaw, now rough with deep gold stubble, and high, sculpted cheekbones. Straight nose and long, deeply sensual mouth. Silver-blue eyes that . . .
Her breath caught, glass cutting straight through her heart and out the other side.
No. She was wrong. He didn’t look the same. Not at all. There were lines around his mouth and eyes, lines that hadn’t been there before, and that wasn’t due to age. That was something more. There was a ring piercing one straight, dark eyebrow, and beneath that it looked like his eye had turned completely black, his pupil huge, a thin ring of silver blue circling it.
She couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop staring, the shock of seeing him hitting her like a wrecking ball. And then there were more shocks, more blows, as the differences in him began to filter through her consciousness.
The piercing. That one dark eye. The width of his shoulders and the way his T-shirt molded over a chest and
stomach ridged with hard muscle. And his arms . . . Jesus, his tattoos. Around each powerful arm was a series of black bands, each one decreasing in width until the bands around his wrists were merely black lines. They were simple, beautiful, highlighting the strength of biceps, forearms, and wrists, and the deep, dark gold of his skin.
When the hell had he gotten those? Levi had never wanted tattoos, no matter how much she’d told him they’d suit him. She’d even teased him about being afraid of the pain, though she had known that wasn’t the reason. Levi hadn’t wanted the tattoos because he hadn’t wanted anything to get in the way of his dreams of escape.
Escape from their shitty Royal Road neighborhood. Escape from Detroit.
He’d planned to get money enough to leave, get a good job in a high-flying company. Have an apartment that didn’t have dealers lurking on the stairs and drunks on the sidewalk out front. Build a life that was about more than mere subsistence and struggle. A life that didn’t include tattoos.
Looked like he didn’t give a shit about that now.
You can’t get a high-flying job with tattoos on your arms. You can’t get one with a record either.
The acid in her gut roiled, and she had no idea what to say.
Levi didn’t break the heavy, impossible silence, and he didn’t smile. He just stared at her as if she were an insect he’d found crushed under the heel of his boot.
Say something, you idiot.
But her voice seemed to have deserted her entirely. All she could do was stare back at him, this man who’d once been her best friend. Whose dreams used to help her believe that there was more to life than existing on her grandma’s Social Security checks and hiding from the child protection agencies that wanted to take her away and put her in a foster home. More to hope for than a crummy job in the local diner or behind the counter at the 7-Eleven.
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