It felt like her heart was shriveling up inside her chest. “Oh God, Zee.” She took another step to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Were you completely insane?”
His hands settled on her hips. “I had to protect you. I had to protect my friends. And I thought that was the best way. I was gonna shoot him, I even held the gun to his fucking head. But I couldn’t pull that trigger because . . .” He paused, looking down at her. “I was too busy thinking of you. Thinking about what you said you deserved.”
Her arms tightened around him, remembering. “I felt pretty shitty.”
“Your brother’s death wasn’t your fault, Tamara. And you don’t have to pay any fucking debt. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have what you want. And I couldn’t pull that goddamn trigger because I knew if I did, you wouldn’t get what you wanted.”
Despite herself, her eyes filled with tears and she had to blink hard to clear them. “So what happened?” she asked huskily. “Did he let you go?”
“No. I walked away. I told him your father would pull his pledge if I didn’t get out of there alive.” A glimmer of a smile curved his mouth. “That was clever by the way. You’re smart, pretty girl.”
God, even just that hint of a smile made her insides turn inside out. What would it be like if he laughed? “Thanks,” she murmured, leaning against him. “I hoped it would come in useful.”
“Very useful. I told him I’d do it if he so much as touched a hair on your head or hurt my friends. And since I’m here, I guess that threat worked.” His silver gaze on hers was like pure, concentrated lightning. “You said you wanted something real, Tamara. You meant it, right?”
Tamara swallowed, her throat thick. Leaving behind the life she’d had, hadn’t been hard, not in any way. But that didn’t mean the rest of it was going to be plain sailing. Still, the most important thing in the world was right here, between her hands, and as long as he remained there, she could handle anything.
“I meant it.” She put all her conviction into the words, all her belief, all her trust.
“Fuck,” he said on a long breath. “I still don’t know why.”
She looked up at him. “Then you’re an idiot. You must know that I’ve been falling in love with you for weeks now, don’t you?”
* * *
Love. What did he know about love? Nothing. Dimly he remembered it being something to do with kisses on his head and hugs from his mom before she died, but after that? Nothing. Maybe he’d had it with Madison, but then they’d only been kids. They hadn’t really understood what it was. Christ, even now, he couldn’t say he even knew what it felt like.
Except, maybe that was wrong. Maybe he did know what it felt like now.
It felt like Tamara’s arms around his waist and the softness of her body against him. The way he felt like the sun had just come up as he watched her smile. And the fierce, bright burning in his chest as she told him she’d been falling in love with him.
Was that it? Was that love?
The sensation deepened, intensified, and it wasn’t just because he wanted to push her down beneath him and bury himself inside of her. It went deeper and was far hungrier than that.
“I don’t know anything about love, baby,” he said huskily. “Madison was a long time ago and shit, we were just kids.”
She lifted her hands from around his waist, cupped his face between them, and the pressure inside him felt suddenly overwhelming. “You understand what this means, don’t you?” Her voice was soft. “That if I deserve this, then you deserve it too?”
His throat had gone tight. “Tamara—”
“We can’t live our lives with debts, Zee. Hell, it doesn’t work financially and it sure doesn’t work emotionally.”
He met her steady gaze and felt a wall he hadn’t realized was inside him start to crumble, a whole lot of pent-up need spilling out. Hopes and dreams and yearnings he hadn’t dared let himself have, not a man like him with a death on his hands.
“I don’t know that I deserve anything,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t protect her.”
“You didn’t know you had to. Just like I didn’t know I had to protect myself.” Her thumbs stroked his cheekbones, a gentle movement. “I think we have to let it go, Zee. I think we have to let Madison and Will both rest in peace. And I think . . .” Her voice thickened. “I really believe, that we need to forgive ourselves. That they would have wanted us to be happy, not torturing ourselves with guilt.”
She was so strong, his Tamara. And smart. And he knew in his heart she was right. Because hadn’t Madison wanted that for him? She’d never have told him to reach for more if she hadn’t.
“I wanna believe you, baby,” he said finally. “But ten years of guilt doesn’t just go away like that.”
Tamara only smiled. “I know. But we have time. And in the meantime, I can teach you all about love.”
Gently he pulled her hands away from his face, holding them in his as he bent to kiss her mouth. “You’ll have to be patient. I was never good at school.”
“That’s okay.” She was leaning into him and it felt so good. He wanted to keep her there forever. “I’m an excellent teacher.”
The night was warm and there was soft-looking grass off to the side of the driveway. But even he knew that getting started with their lessons here was a pretty dumb idea. So he swept her up into his arms and started walking fast down the driveway toward the gates.
Tamara laughed, her arms tightening around his neck. “Where are we going?”
“Where do you think? Back to Royal, pretty girl.”
Epilogue
Tamara placed the last few personal items from her desk into the cardboard box she’d brought with her. Scott was watching her from his office, his blue eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she ignored him.
Funny, she thought she’d feel more regret about this. But she didn’t. Only a kind of satisfaction at tying up the final loose end. The last bit of her old life to get rid of.
She surveyed her empty desk, then grinned at Rose, who’d been watching her pack up, a hint of mournfulness in her brown eyes.
“It won’t be the same without you,” Rose said, pouting.
“Hey, I haven’t gone far.” Tamara tucked away the last thing into the box, her favorite coffee mug. “I’m just down in Royal. And you’re still doing Zee’s classes. We can meet up, go for a drink at Gino’s.”
Rose scrunched her face up. “Yeah, I know. But still. This place sucks.”
Wasn’t that the truth? This job had once been everything to her, the only way she had to atone for her sins. But in the past couple of days, she’d found a different way, a peace of sorts.
She’d offered her financial advice to the outreach center Zee was working with and they’d been ecstatic at the offer. Sure, the pay was minimal, the benefits package nonexistent. But she got to make a difference in a way she’d never expected to, a way that was far more real than merely getting a position in her father’s company.
Plus, there was one extra benefit she got in Royal that she didn’t get at Lennox Investments.
As if on cue, silence began to ripple through the area as that particular benefit made his way toward her, drawing the stares of just about everyone in the entire office.
Zee wore jeans and boots again, his T-shirt white this time, making the ink on his skin stand out and the glow of his silver eyes more intense.
Among the suits and ties, he stood out like a demon amidst a horde of angels.
An incredibly hot, sexy demon.
Ignoring the stares and the silence he left in his wake, he came to a halt in front of her desk, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. “Ready to go?”
The rough sound of his voice still made a shiver go down her back. God, she’d never get tired of hearing his voice.
“Bitch,” Rose muttered good-naturedly. “Can’t believe you get to tap that.”
There were some days Tamara couldn’t believe it either. She smiled at
the man on the other side of her desk. “Yeah, that’s all of it.”
“You sure you wanna do this?” Zee’s gaze was direct, sharp. “You’re giving up a lot for me, pretty girl. Don’t think I don’t know that.”
Well, it wasn’t really up to her, especially considering her father had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that a position at Lennox was out of the question.
She wasn’t surprised. Her parents had been extremely unhappy after she’d gone off with Zee and it was going to take time for them to come round. But she thought they might eventually—after all, they’d lost one child. Would they really want to lose another?
Then again, if they didn’t, she was prepared to let them go. Because if they didn’t want to build bridges with her, that was their choice and their decision, not hers.
Besides, she had all she needed right here.
“What am I giving up? A shit job? Money?” She shrugged. “Because I’m okay with that. Especially if that means I get you.”
He smiled and it felt like the light in the office got momentarily brighter. “I’m not complaining.” He reached for the cardboard box and picked it up. “Come on, I gotta surprise for you in the car.”
“Oh, I hope it’s what I think it is.”
Zee laughed, clearly reading her mind. “Time for that later. This is something else.”
Tamara grinned back, then, giving Rose a hug good-bye and Scott the finger as she passed by his office, she followed Zee out of the building.
But he didn’t give her the surprise immediately, not until he’d pulled into a familiar alleyway.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Here?”
“Sure, why not?” He was smiling. “I wanted to take you out to dinner, do it all special. But you know me, I can’t wait.” Twisting his seat, he started digging something out of the front pocket of his jeans.
“What couldn’t wait?”
Zee opened his hand and sitting in the center of it was a small black box.
Tamara blinked, abruptly feeling as if all the air in the car had vanished out the windows. “What’s that?” Her voice sounded all weird.
“Open it.” There was something she didn’t often see in his eyes. Uncertainty.
Slowly, she took the box from him and opened it up. Sitting inside it was a small, glittering red ruby caught in the delicate gold claws of a ring.
Red for passion.
Red for Zee.
Tamara looked at him, unable to speak.
“Like I told you before,” Zee said, holding her gaze. “I’m not good with words, baby. And love isn’t something I know a lot about. But you’ve been teaching me these past few days and I’m starting to get an idea.” He paused, and his smile faded, the familiar intensity coming back into his eyes. “You told me you loved me and I never said it back, mainly ’cause I didn’t know what it meant. But I do now. Tamara Lennox . . . Christ . . . I love you. And this ring, it doesn’t have to be an engagement ring or anything, not if you don’t want it to be, but—”
“Yes,” she said simply, because anything else seemed inadequate. “Whatever it means, Zee. Yes.”
He stopped speaking, just looking at her. Then he reached out and cupped her jaw in a touch that would have stolen her heart if he hadn’t stolen it already, bending in to kiss her, deep and slow.
After a moment he lifted his head, took the ring out of the box, and slid it onto her finger, where it sparkled in the light, already feeling like part of her.
And neither of them spoke for a long time.
“You got me something too,” he murmured eventually. “Rachel did it for me.”
“I did? What?”
He was smiling again, a naughty, wicked smile that made her heart beat faster. Then he turned without a word and presented her with his back, drawing up his T-shirt.
Words were inked on there on the smooth, tanned skin. New words.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26
Tamara’s vision blurred. “Oh . . . Zee . . .”
Then he turned around and she saw the heart inked on the left side of his chest, with her name in a cursive, flowing script beneath it. All in red ink.
Because red was for love, too.
If you enjoyed Dirty for Me, be sure not
to miss the next book in Jackie Ashenden’s
scorching Motor City Royals series
WRONG FOR ME
Read on for a special sneak peek.
Click here to get your copy.
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. 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, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. They 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, ten years later, they remained close friends. Gideon, Zoe, Zee, and Levi. They were still there for one another, still looked out for each other.
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 . . .
She 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 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.
Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) Page 25
