Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) Page 22

  Especially the biggest pledge. Her father.

  It didn’t surprise her that her father would donate to his campaign fund—he’d always been a man who looked for opportunities where he could get them, and perhaps he was hoping for a little mutual political back-scratching should Chase become mayor.

  Tamara didn’t know how she could use this or even whether she should, especially when she’d been telling herself that she was supposed to be putting Zee behind her once and for all, but the information stuck in her brain and refused to budge.

  Maybe it could help; maybe at some time, in some way, she could use it to help Zee.

  Later that day she’d texted Zee that she had something that might be useful and to let her know if he wanted it. But all she’d gotten back was a terse message telling her to never text or call his number again.

  It had hurt, no denying it, even though she’d told herself not to take it to heart. He was probably trying to protect her by pushing her away; at least that was the explanation she clung to rather than that he genuinely didn’t care.

  She hadn’t heard anything since and, no matter what she told herself, it continued to hurt.

  You’re supposed to be moving on, remember?

  Music from inside drifted over the terrace, the sound of laughter slipping through the windows.

  Of course she was. And soon her mother was going to come to get her, leading her inside to her “surprise.” Robert and an engagement ring, and a bright, successful future. There would be a massive society wedding here at her parents’ place, and eventually she and Robert would shift to New York, since Lennox had a branch office there. She’d work her way to the top and then maybe she’d take some time off to have children. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d hire a nanny and work while she had her kids.

  Whatever, it would be a busy, fulfilling life that would make her parents proud, give them what they should have had if Will hadn’t died.

  Her phone chimed. She looked down where she’d put it on the parapet beside her. The screen had lit up, telling her she had a text.

  She blinked, then went utterly still.

  Meet me at the top of the driveway. Z.

  Tamara sucked in a shaky breath, unable to stop herself from glancing at the doors that led to the terrace. They were firmly closed and it didn’t look like anyone was coming to get her soon.

  She reached for her phone and picked it up, her hands shaking. She shouldn’t text him. She should be putting him behind her and moving on. Right?

  Yeah, and look how well you’ve been doing that the past week.

  Crap. Who was she kidding?

  Tamara typed out a reply before she could second-guess herself. Why?

  His response was quick. I need to talk to you. Not long.

  Didn’t you tell me not to text or call you again?

  Please, Tamara.

  It was the please that got her. She swallowed, her throat gone tight, her heartbeat wild. I’m at my parents’ place.

  I know. Come to the top of the drive.

  Oh hell. Was she really going to say no? This would be the last time she’d ever see him again and, after all, they hadn’t even had a proper good-bye thanks to his damn father. There was that information she had too. She could pass that on to him in person. And if her mother came out and she wasn’t there, she could always say she’d gone for a walk in the gardens, get some fresh air and crap. It wasn’t as if she was leaving for good or anything.

  Taking one last glance toward the doors, Tamara went down the terrace stairs and down onto the perfectly manicured lawn in front of the house. Then she headed toward the driveway and the big stand of oaks that lined it.

  Shadows moved around her as she walked, gravel crunching beneath the deep blue Jimmy Choo stiletto sandals Robert had brought her back from New York and insisted she wear. They were perfect with the strapless blue silk cocktail dress she’d bought with her mother the day before so clearly he’d had help.

  She was conscious now of how the sandals hurt her feet and how tight the dress was, a costume that didn’t seem to fit very well.

  It’s never fitted and you know it. You’ve just been ignoring it all these years.

  No, it never had. The only time she’d felt truly at ease, truly herself, had been when she wasn’t wearing anything at all. When she’d been naked in Zee’s arms.

  The warm night breeze blew over her bare shoulders, making her shiver. Making her want things she shouldn’t. Things like getting into his car and telling him to take her away from her parents, from Robert, from the obligation of trying to be something and someone she wasn’t and never would be. From the need to atone for what she’d done.

  But she’d killed her own brother and there was no escape from that.

  The shadows by the oaks were deep and she should have been scared. But she felt no fear as she moved toward the massive wrought-iron gates that both warned people off and trumpeted the importance of the owners.

  There was a small gate to the side that she pressed in a code for, unlocking it and stepping outside onto the sidewalk. The street beyond was wide and leafy, with only a handful of houses on either side, and no traffic whatsoever.

  Well, almost no traffic.

  Opposite the gates and a little way down the street, a low-slung black car was parked under a tree, a still figure leaning against it. A figure that suddenly straightened as she came out and yet made no move toward her.

  Tamara’s heartbeat accelerated, a great rush of adrenaline flooding through her veins.

  Zee.

  She crossed the street, her heels tapping on the asphalt, trying to get a handle on herself, trying not to lose it completely and fling herself into his arms. Because now he was here, now he was close, she wanted to touch him, feel his hands on her skin, have his arms around her. Wanted to look into his intense silver gaze, the one that saw the woman she was deep inside.

  The figure by the car didn’t move, waiting there tall and broad and still. So very still.

  She came closer and her heart squeezed tight in her chest, turning over and over and over. Because even though it had only been a week, it felt like it had been years since she’d seen him. Since she’d last seen that darkly intense face of his and those astonishing, brilliant gray eyes. Since she’d touched that lean, powerful body and heard his husky, gritty voice, been enveloped by the sheer electricity of his presence.

  How could she have forgotten this? How could she have thought she could put him behind her so easily? There was no ignoring Zee, there never had been.

  She came to a stop all of a sudden, not wanting to get too close to him. Because she just didn’t trust herself not to be able to reach out and touch him. Hold on to him and never let go.

  Zee swept her a look from her head to her feet, and even in the darkness, the glint of hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. “Tamara.”

  The sound of her name sent a wave of heat through her and she had to fold her arms over her chest to keep herself from reaching out to him. “Hey, Zee.” She swallowed, her throat thick. “Long time no see.”

  He had his hands in the pockets of his jeans, every line of his body radiating tension. And he was staring intently at her as if trying to imprint her on his memory.

  The thickness in her throat intensified. “I suppose I don’t need to ask you why you’re here. This is good-bye, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  He should never have come. It was immediately obvious to him the moment he’d watched her walk out of the gate and cross the road. The streetlights had illuminated her lovely face and he’d seen the glow in her eyes as she’d approached, looking at him like she was excited to see him. Like she was glad.

  She was so fucking sexy in the blue dress she was wearing and blue heeled sandals that made her legs look even longer and more delicate than they were. And he could feel his dick get hard, wanting to be inside her with those amazing legs wrapped around his waist. But that in itself wouldn’t have actually been dis
turbing.

  It was the way his heart felt like it was getting larger the closer she got, pushing against the walls of his chest, squashing his lungs so he couldn’t breathe. Making everything inside him go tight with longing.

  And when she’d looked at him with those knowing dark eyes, the ones that had seen right inside him, down to his soul and hadn’t flinched away, what he’d felt was pain.

  Because it was true. He was here to say good-bye.

  He’d thought he’d forgotten about her. Forced her entirely from his head. Made her exactly what he’d told Gideon she was—a chick he’d hooked up with for a couple of nights and let go just as easily. A lie he’d believed right up until the point he’d shifted into the downtown apartment his father had instructed him to move into, keeping up the pretense of the obedient son, and unpacked his meager belongings, and discovered a small ball of expensive black fabric at the bottom of one box.

  Fabric he’d thought he’d thrown in the trash. Tamara’s tank top.

  He’d taken that scrap of fabric out of the box and spread it out over his hands, inhaling the fading scent of her before he’d had a chance to stop himself. Then, angry about the fact he hadn’t thrown it out like he thought he had, he’d tossed it directly into the wastebasket.

  Yet no matter how many times he threw it away, somehow he ended up fishing it back out again and putting it back in his pocket. Where it was now, the cotton pressing against his palm, all warm and soft. Like a fucking security blanket.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him. And that was why he was here, risking her safety, which was a damn stupid thing to do when his father was having him tailed everywhere he went. But he’d needed to do something to get her out of his head and if that meant going to see her one last time, then he had to. He couldn’t afford any distractions from what he had to do, not now.

  So of course he was here to say good-bye. But he didn’t want to say it quite yet so he ignored the question. “You’re looking beautiful tonight, pretty girl. What’s the occasion?”

  She had her arms folded over her chest, the sequined bodice of her dress sparkling under the streetlights. “It’s a surprise party. For me.”

  “Oh? Is it your birthday or something?”

  Slowly she shook her head. “I’m getting engaged tonight.”

  It felt like she’d just kicked him straight in the nuts and for a second all he could do was look at her.

  You dickhead. She told you all about it, remember? The night she came to the garage in that tight little dress you pulled off her in the parking lot out back.

  Fuck, that’s right. She’d said “soon.” And soon was apparently now, tonight.

  Yet for all that, he found himself struggling to get a breath. “Engaged?” he echoed like a goddamn parrot.

  She turned her head, looking away, shifting on her long legs, the sequins on her dress glittering like tiny stars. For a moment she looked exactly like fucking Cinderella, beautiful and innocent, and completely untouchable, especially by the likes of him.

  Except, he knew she wasn’t untouchable. And he knew she wasn’t Cinderella. No matter how beautiful and perfect she was on the outside, she had her darkness inside. A darkness she showed to nobody but him.

  A hungry, possessive part of him growled in satisfaction at the thought. A part that wanted to leap on her now, drag her down onto the grass beside the car and let that darkness out to play with his. To glory in it one more time.

  Except he wasn’t here for that, was he?

  “I told you, remember? My dad gave me a heads-up a couple of weeks ago that my mom was throwing me a surprise party where my boyfriend was going to propose,” she said quietly. “And I’m going to say yes.”

  “Why the fuck would you do that?” The question came out harsh, his tone probably revealing way too much, but he didn’t take it back. “I thought you didn’t love him.”

  “I don’t. But it’s the right thing to do.”

  Familiar anger was coiling inside him, an anger that seemed completely out of proportion to what was happening. Because Tamara wasn’t his girlfriend. They’d had sex a few times, had shared a few secrets, but nothing major. So why the hell he should be getting so pissed about her wanting to get married was ridiculous. He didn’t understand it.

  “What do you mean ‘the right thing to do’?” he demanded, unable to help himself.

  She stared at him, the look on her face unreadable. “I mean, it’s the next logical step for me. I have a great job and a secure career path. Robert comes from a good family and my mom and dad like him. There’s no reason not to.”

  Yet the words sounded . . . off. As if she was repeating something someone had told her.

  Zee clenched his fists in the pockets of his jeans, trying to ignore the urge to reach out and touch her. Because he’d told himself before he’d gotten here that he wouldn’t. A good-bye, that’s all this was. Yet now she’d gone and changed things with this fucking “engaged” bullshit.

  Struggling to rein in his anger, he forced out, “Okay, then. If that’s what you want.”

  Tamara looked down at the ground, hugging herself as if she was cold. “It’s . . . it’s not what I want.” Her voice sounded thin and uncertain, a needle sliding beneath his skin. “I don’t want to marry him, Zee. I don’t.”

  He’d taken a step toward her before he could stop himself. “Then don’t. Just fucking don’t.”

  “I have to.” Her head came up, her eyes black in the darkness. “I have to move on. And this is the only way I can do it. I mean, how else can I ever make it up to my parents?”

  Oh Jesus.

  He didn’t need to ask her what she was talking about. He knew. It slid the needle deeper, a sharp spear of pain reaching all the way down to his soul.

  “This is about your brother, right?”

  Her face had gone curiously blank. “Yes.”

  “You don’t owe them a thing, Tamara,” he said fiercely, forcefully. “Not a single, goddamn thing. His death wasn’t your fault. It was theirs. They didn’t get him the treatment he needed. They didn’t listen to you when you told them you needed help. They put you into that situation. It’s all on them.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I pulled the trigger. I killed him. I have to pay my debt somehow and this is it. This is what I have to do. They covered it up—did you know that? Mom and Dad made it look like suicide. They didn’t want the mental illness stigma and they didn’t want me to go to jail.” Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers curling into fists like his were. “They erased what I did entirely.” There was a note in her voice that he knew, a note that was as familiar to him as his own name. Rage. “So you tell me, how else am I supposed to make what I did better? How else am I supposed to pay my fucking debt?”

  Zee took another step toward her, coming closer. The night air carried the sweet smell of her scent and the streetlight made her skin look so pale and smooth and perfect. It wasn’t that which drew him this time, but the helpless rage in her voice and the gleam of it in her eyes. The note of pain that somehow drove that needle deeper into his heart.

  “You don’t have to pay any damn debt.” Fuck, he wanted to take her in his arms, hold her. Take away the hurt. “Like I said, it’s not your fault.”

  But she only stared at him. “That’s rich coming from you. I suppose you being here now to say good-bye isn’t part of the debt you have to pay either?”

  He stilled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, why else are you here? I presume you didn’t come to see me just to tell me Will’s death wasn’t my fault.”

  She saw so much. Too much. “Yeah, okay. I did come to say good-bye since we didn’t get to say it properly last time. But that’s got nothing to do with any debt.”

  Her mouth had gone tight, her knuckles white where they gripped her upper arms. She didn’t speak, only stared at him.

  The tension between them now had changed and he didn’t understand it
. She was looking at him like she wanted something from him, something he couldn’t figure out.

  You know. You just don’t want to see it.

  His heart had gone tight, the needle of pain driving deeper and deeper.

  “Tamara,” he said thickly. “Don’t—”

  “I don’t want to say good-bye, Zee.” There was desperation in her voice now, a raw, naked emotion that made him feel like she was stripping him bare. “I don’t want to get engaged to Robert and I don’t want to say good-bye to you.” Her eyes were black in the night. “What I want is to get in your car and just . . . go.”

  “Go?” he demanded roughly. “Go with me where?”

  Her throat moved. “Anywhere. I don’t care. I just . . . want to be with you.”

  Now she hadn’t just kicked him in the nuts, she’d flat out KO’d him completely. It made him angry for reasons he didn’t understand. As if it wasn’t him she wanted, but only a reason to escape. “What? You think running away is the answer? That you can just walk away from shit you don’t like?”

  “No, that’s not what—”

  “Because you can’t, Tamara. Believe me, I know all about it. No matter how fast you run, the past will always catch up.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time your dad’s past caught up with him.” She took a step toward him and this time there was no mistaking the burning look on her face. Hope. “Do you know he’s trying to run for mayor? And that my dad made a massive pledge to his campaign? All I need to do is convince Dad that Chase is shady and he’ll withdraw the funds. I’m sure he’ll also spread it around among the business community, too, which’ll totally kill any chance Chase has of any kind of political office.”

  Zee found himself standing utterly motionless, staring at her. No, it couldn’t be that simple. He hadn’t known about his father’s political aims, in fact he’d deliberately tried not to think of his father at all while he’d been flying under the radar. But if what she’d said was true . . .