Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) Read Online Free PDF Page A

right, where an old-looking motorcycle was up on a stand. A powerfully built man in faded blue overalls stood bent over it, a welding torch in his hand. Beyond that was parked a huge, black muscle car, the garage lighting gleaming over the glossy paintwork.
    Zee’s car, no question.
    Another movement caught her eye, the sound of a light female voice filling the quiet as the welding torch shut off. A woman sat on the worktop, legs dangling. She had black curly hair caught in a ponytail on top of her head and glasses on the end of her nose, and she wore frayed denim shorts, a black tank, and motorcycle boots.
    Footsteps sounded and Tamara looked up to see another woman coming down a set of metal stairs that led up to what looked like an office. This woman’s long hair was loose over her shoulders and dyed a brilliant electric blue. She wore the tiniest denim miniskirt Tamara had ever seen, a black T-shirt, black platform boots, and a studded metal belt. The bright colors of a full-sleeve tattoo covered one of her arms and a silver ring gleamed in her nose. “I ordered,” the woman said as she came down the stairs. “Zee’s not eating with us tonight is he? ’Cause if he is, he’s going to be hungry.”
    “I’m not,” Zee said as he stepped past Tamara. “I’ve got a fight later tonight.”
    Everyone turned in the direction of Zee’s voice and Tamara braced herself.
    “Who the hell is this?” The blue-haired woman had stopped on the stairs, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.
    “This is Tamara.” Zee moved over to the black car. “She was at my class. I’m giving her a ride home.”
    “I thought you didn’t fuck the women in your classes?”
    “Rachel.” The man in the blue overalls put back the welding mask he wore over his face, his voice deep, and rough, and a touch reproving. He was tall as Zee and as broad, but older and more heavily muscled. His features were roughly handsome, his nose crooked, as if it had been broken at one time or another. Black stubble lined his strong jaw, while shaggy black hair curled over his collar. If Zee was the lithely muscled martial artist, this man was the heavyweight boxer. “Hey, Tamara,” the man said, giving her an easy, friendly smile.
    Tamara gave him a tight smile back. “Hi.”
    “I’m Gideon and this is Zoe.” He jerked his head toward the younger woman perched on the bench. “Oh and ignore Rachel. She’s pretty much rude to everyone.”
    Rachel folded her arms, scowling.
    “Hey.” Zoe lifted a hand. There was a smile on her face, but the big golden eyes behind her glasses were guarded.
    Tamara felt her expression become fixed. She felt like she’d just crashed a small, exclusive, and intimate party, where everyone knew everyone else and strangers were definitely not welcome.
    “I just need to grab the car,” Zee said, pulling his keys from the pocket of his sweats.
    “Sure.” Gideon put down the welding torch. “Want me to get the door?”
    “Yeah, thanks.” Zee glanced at Tamara. “Come on, get in.”
    The two other women were gazing at her speculatively as she made her way across the garage to where the big black car stood. She tried to ignore them and the awkward tension that had suddenly pulled tight in the garage as she pulled open the passenger door and climbed in.
    The car had black leather seats and smelled of polish and oil. Kind of like Zee, now that she thought about it. Did that mean he worked here? Obviously he knew the people and they seemed like friends. Perhaps one of the women was his girlfriend? Then again, the blue-haired woman, Rachel, had said something about him not screwing the women in his classes, so maybe not.
    Zee got in the other side as the grinding rattle of the roller door being drawn up echoed through the space. He stuck a key in the ignition, turned it, and the car’s engine started in a low, smooth rumble.
    “What’s your address?” he asked as the car slid out of the garage.
    She didn’t want to