Page 42 of Property of Kevlar

She and Carrie had taken their own cars and met up at the store, so she wasn’t abandoning her friend. Carrie could get home, but Kelsey had no intention of staying there. She wanted no more run-ins with Pete.

“Fuck off,” Mike barked.

“Carrie,” she said. “Call me later.”

Gagging noises were her response.

Kelsey dry-heaved in her mouth as she fled. She had to figure out how to get her friend away from that guy. Apparently, his dick was magic, because Carrie couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

Kelsey had her work cut out for her.

23

Kevlar

As though Kevlar’s bike had a mind of its own, it ate up the pavement and went where it wanted to go. He shouldn’t even be driving, but damn, those Dixie fucks had some fine tequila. The booze hit him fast and hard. Now, he risked laying his bike down to go where he shouldn’t.

If there ever was a case for calling him a goddamn idiot, this was it.

Somehow, he managed not to draw attention to himself and got to the apartment complex in one piece. He’d arrived just in time to see Kelsey exiting her car.

She jumped, hand on her chest, turning toward him the moment he pulled in. The rumble of his bike must’ve startled her. That was the thing about a Harley-Davidson, it was loud as hell. He couldn’t surprise anyone with a loud-as-fuck engine between his legs.

Since his arrival wasn’t a secret, there seemed no reason to hide, so Kevlar pulled into the space beside her and cut the engine.

“Jesus Christ,” she hissed as she approached him. “I thought you were Pete.”

“Who the hell is Pete?” Kevlar snarled.

If some other asshole showed up, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t put a bullet in him.

She waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “That biker asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

His eye twitched, and he flung his leg over to get off his bike. Now standing, he closed the minimal distance between them. “Did he touch you?”

Kevlar had thought he’d made it clear to Yogi. Kelsey was off-limits.

She blinked wildly.

He didn’t see fear in her beautiful ocean-blue eyes. Though there was a hint of hesitation. He didn’t like her looking at him like that. Anyone else? Sure, but not Kelsey. Not his Kitten.

“A little,” she whispered.

He furrowed his brows. “A little?” he repeated. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Ire pulsed through him, tightening his muscles, making the veins on his arms protrude. Curling his fingers into fists, he ground his teeth and stepped away from her, desperate for something to punch.

She was not an acceptable target. Neither was her car nor the brick walls of the apartment building. Still, the urge to pummel something surged through him. No one could hurt her. Not even Kevlar. The fact that anyone had the nerve to lay a finger on her had him enraged.

What he wouldn’t give to know where the Scorpions were hiding. He’d head over there now and burn that shit to the ground. End the war before it even started.

Stopping his angry pacing, he glanced in Kelsey’s direction.

She stood watching him, chewing on her long acrylic thumbnail.

This had to stop happening. He couldn’t be around her all the time. He had shit to do, but tolerating Yogi near her wasn’t an option either. There had to be a solution to this while he built his club, gained numbers, and could take out the trash.

Charging toward her a bit too emphatically, he thrust his open palm at her. “Give me your phone.”