Page 33 of Property of Kevlar

“Baby Boy!” Jerry said joyfully as he gripped Kid’s face and patted it slightly.

“Jerry,” Kid mumbled.

Turning his attention to Kevlar, Jerry’s eyes sparkled. “Little Junior.”

He held out his arms, and Kevlar walked into his embrace, accepting the brief hug from his father’s longtime friend.

“We don’t go by those names anymore,” Kevlar explained.

Jerry pulled back, and his gaze flicked between them, focusing on the patches on their vests that they refused to remove before entering. Business hours hadn’t started. There weren’t any customers to speak of. This was their home. They weren’t about to take off their cuts.

Jerry frowned.

“We’re back,” Kevlar announced. “For good.”

“Things have been quiet lately,” Jerry said warily. “Nothing like they used to be.”

Back in the day, this place was a rowdy good time. Fights were common. Kevlar had a small scar on his cheek from his eighteenth birthday, caused by some asshole’s bulky skull ring. Stuff like that came with the territory.

Their territory.

“Our return won’t be like the old days,” Kevlar assured him.

The bar owner scrubbed his face, the conflict clear in his expression.

“I get it,” Kevlar said, resting a hand on Jerry’s shoulder. “But my new club is not the same as my father’s. We aren’t the Roughneck Riders anymore. We are the Royal Bastards.”

Jerry glanced toward Kid as though seeking confirmation.

Kevlar’s brother nodded. “We’ve toned it down in our old age.”

The bar owner chuckled.

“Until we get our clubhouse going, we want to set up here,” Kevlar said.

Jerry stiffened.

Kevlar dropped his arm and stepped away, giving the bar owner his space. He didn’t want to have to strong-arm the man into this. They’d once been friends—practically family. He’d hoped for that arrangement again.

“Use the back room from time to time.” Kevlar gestured toward a door that led to a storage area. “Bring business. The Royal Bastards have a lot of buddies, and we’d like to count you as one of them.”

“We wanna hang out with our old friends,” Kid offered.

“Listen, boys,” Jerry began, obviously uncomfortable.

Kid wrapped an arm around Jerry’s shoulders. “What do you need?”

Jerry furrowed his brows.

“We can get it for you,” Kid declared.

Kevlar nodded. “It’ll be mutually beneficial.”

Jerry stepped away from Kevlar’s brother. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Kevlar smiled, attempting to be as warm and reassuring as possible. Though wearing ripped jeans, a wallet chain, and a black Henley beneath his leather cut, he probably came across as intimidating.

“There won’t be any. We just want to come home,” he said genuinely.