Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) Page 20

  Impressed? Jesus. When he’d been ten that had been all he’d wanted. To impress his dad, make him proud. But that was years ago, before he’d realized how big a bastard his father actually was. How much greed and power had overtaken him, turned him into the monster he was now.

  A monster Zee would have become himself if not for Madison.

  “Yeah, well, they didn’t look hard enough, did they?” Zee pulled his jeans up and fastened them. “Get to the point. I gotta get to work.”

  “Nice. Holding a down a job and everything. You’ve made good.” His father nodded approvingly. “Like I said, I’m impressed. Been watching you for a while now, did you know that? Finally tracked you down a few years back.”

  It took effort, but Zee managed to keep the shock from his face. Shit, how had that happened? What had he done wrong? Had someone seen him?

  His father gave a soft laugh. “You look surprised, boy. Think you were safe here? Think you were hidden? This is my town, remember. Nothing stays hidden from me here for long. Especially when word gets back of some fighter taking on all comers and beating the shit out of them.”

  Ah. Fuck. He should have known that in the end, it would be the fights that brought him down. It had always been a calculated risk, but he’d done it anyway because he’d needed the outlet they gave him.

  Zee pushed his hands into his pockets, clenching them tight into fists, trying to calm himself. Trying to find the space he went to when he fought. Clear and cold and calm. “Why wait then? Why are you here cluttering up my fucking bedroom now?”

  “’Cause I had other more important things to do. And it looked like you weren’t going anywhere in a hurry.” Joshua took a scan around the room, pursing his lips. “Yep, nowhere in a hurry is where you’re going all right. A mechanic in a shop, teaching kids in a gym. It’s downright adorable.”

  Rage licked down Zee’s spine, black and intense. He clenched his fists tighter. “Like I said, get to the point, cocksucker.”

  “Such a thing to call your old man. You need to learn a bit of respect, Damian.” He glanced behind him, to prick number one. “Time for his first lesson.”

  Typical. His father always resorted to violence to make his point, something Zee had learned from him after all. Well, let him. Pain didn’t frighten Zee, this was what he knew. The threat and the response, pure physical aggression. The prick could certainly try to deal out a lesson. Good thing Zee had aced that particular class.

  “Oh,” his father said casually, as the guy moved toward him. “By the way, you’re gonna stand there and take it like a man. ’Cause if you don’t, that outreach center you love so much might have a fire on its hands.”

  Zee went still, a spear of cold slicing through him.

  Did you really think you could take him on? He has too many resources. Too much power. And you have none.

  His father’s prick of a henchman was in front of Zee now, grinning as his fist pulled back.

  “Be a good boy and take your punishment,” Joshua said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.”

  Zee felt the rage, bright and fierce. He wanted to take the guy in front of him out; one hard punch to the jaw should do it. Then he’d move fast, grab that bat out of his father’s hands . . .

  The fist that came at his face hit him hard. Lights exploded in his head, pain radiating out in jagged spikes like a cracked pane of glass. There was blood in his mouth, a hard pressure against his knees. And he realized with a sudden shock that he was on the floor.

  “Sorry about that.” Joshua’s voice sounded muffled. “But I’m a big believer in the school of hard knocks and Jay here is expert in dealing them out. He used to be a boxer, did you know?”

  Zee spat out the blood in his mouth. There was a black haze over his vision, fury roaring in his head. He wanted nothing more than to get to his feet, then get his hands around his father’s throat, the way he had years ago before his father’s bodyguards had managed to pull him off.

  Then something cold rested against the back of his head. The muzzle of a gun.

  The rage froze inside his chest.

  His father’s smile faded, leaving nothing but the cold blue glitter in his eyes. “Get up, boy.”

  Slowly, Zee straightened and pushed himself to his feet, resisting the urge to touch his throbbing jaw.

  “Here’s the deal,” Joshua went on. “You’ve had a lovely vacation down here in Royal, but now it’s over. Now it’s time to come home. Understand me?”

  You always knew it would come to this. You always knew you couldn’t run forever.

  “Come home?” His voice sounded thick. “To you?”

  “Of course to me. No one leaves, Damian. No one ever leaves. Except in a box.”

  Fury and a strangely familiar helplessness gathered in his chest. “If you want someone to be your bitch, you’ve got hundreds of pricks to choose from. You don’t need me, you fucker.”

  “True. All true.” His father wandered over to him, that bat swinging in another slow arc. “But here’s the thing.” Joshua stopped right in front of him and it gave Zee a perverse kind of pleasure to see that the prick was shorter than he was. “You’re my blood, boy. And my blood does not skulk in an alleyway like a dog. ’Cause that’s what this neighborhood of yours is. It’s an alleyway. It’s trash. And you’re wasted here.”

  A terrible echo of Madison’s voice sounded in his head. “You’re wasted here, Damian. You should be out doing something better for yourself.”

  “No,” Zee said, to his father. To her. “I’m not going fucking anywhere with you.”

  “Hmmm. I was afraid you’d say that.”

  The cold muzzle of the gun pressed harder against the back of Zee’s head, but he didn’t flinch. “Kill me and I still won’t be going anywhere with you.”

  His father smiled. “Why would I kill you? That would be all kinds of wrong. No, I have something better than that. Let’s call it . . . incentive.”

  Just like that, the dread was back, worming deeper inside him, chilling him right down to the bone.

  Tamara.

  No, it couldn’t be her. They knew nothing about her, nothing at all. As far as they were concerned, she was just a chick he’d slept with, whom he’d just tossed out of his bed without a second glance.

  Which meant . . .

  His stomach gave a sickening lurch.

  His father’s smile widened. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to the lovely folks at the garage. Nice bunch. Especially the little one with the golden eyes. She’s pretty.”

  “Touch them and I’ll kill you,” he said, the fury bleeding helplessly into his voice.

  “Ah, well, that’ll be up to you.” His father slapped the bat against his palm again. “Come back home and I’ll forget all about this corner of Detroit. It’ll be my gift to you.”

  You always knew there would be no escape.

  “And if I don’t?” A stupid question, but he had to ask. He needed to hear it.

  “If you don’t?” Joshua shrugged, but there was a feral light in his eyes. “Then I’ll torch this shithole down to the ground and your friends along with it.”

  * * *

  Tamara stumbled over a broken crack in the pavement. She barely noticed, walking as quickly as she could without actually breaking into a run. A run would definitely draw attention and she couldn’t afford that, not now.

  The breath burned in her chest, fear a cold weight pressing down on her, and she had to keep resisting the urge to look behind her to see if she was being followed.

  The moment she’d opened her eyes, she’d known the man standing at the foot of Zee’s bed wasn’t going to be good news. When the sleep had cleared from her eyes, she’d even seen the resemblance. The hair was grayer and there were many more lines, but she’d traced the shape of that face with her fingers the night before. She knew. It was his father, the apparent godfather of Detroit.

  Zee hadn’t even looked at
her, telling her to get out and get dressed, his voice cold. As if they hadn’t gotten hot dogs together, then spent the night in each other’s arms. But that didn’t worry her because she’d guessed he was trying to kill any link between them to protect her.

  She’d played along, ignoring the cold clutch of fear inside her at the sound of that bat slapping against Joshua Chase’s palm. At the lascivious looks in the eyes of the two goons standing behind him. She’d even tried to be a bit sulky, as if she was offended her night was ending like this.

  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.

  That’s it. You’ll never see him again.

  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.

  Keep it locked down, Tamara. Keep it under control.

  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.

  What about the promise you made to Madison?

  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.