Page 82 of Property of Kevlar

“Janell Cleary, APN,” she announced with a bit of pride.

Had he heard that name before? It sounded familiar. Didn’t matter.

He wasn’t sure what APN meant, but he nodded as though he did. He shifted his attention to his sister. “Friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” Remi responded curtly.

That was good enough for him. As much of a pain in the ass as his sister could be, she’d never let him stay injured if she could help.

Blowing out a breath, he returned his focus to the APN. “So, what’s the verdict? Am I dying?”

“No. A bullet grazed your shoulder. Not even worthy of a stitch. Superglued it.”

He rotated his arm as though to test that theory. It hurt like hell but was manageable.

“Your side is a different story. Whoever poked you managed to miss everything important. It was clean between the ribs, though a bit wide and jagged. I guess he twisted it.”

“Yeah,” Kevlar agreed as he ran his hand over the wound. The stiff strings sewn into him felt like a porcupine. “How many stitches?”

Janell shrugged nonchalantly. “A bunch. I’m no surgeon. It’s going to heal ugly as shit, but you’re not dead.”

He snorted, appreciating her blunt honesty. “Fair.”

Then he flicked his attention to Kelsey. “What about her?” He jutted his chin in her direction.

All eyes turned to her.

Kelsey’s cheeks flamed red. “I’m fine.” She waved a hand, dismissing his concerns.

Kevlar narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit.”

“Superficial cuts,” Janell explained. “Nothing a Band-Aid won’t cure.”

He scanned the room, seeking his men. A butterfly bandage held Lionel’s eyebrow together. The swelling kept his eye shut, but he stood, hands in his pockets beside Torch, who looked as though his face had gone through a meat grinder. His arm was bent and rested in a makeshift sling.

“We’re okay. Nothing to get your panties in a bunch over,” his redheaded club brother said with a wink.

Beyond them, he found Kid’s back. His heavily tattooed arms were maroon with dried blood. Nervously, he shifted his weight back and forth. What, or who, was he focused on? Kevlar couldn’t see more than a foot, but he definitely stared at someone.

“Kid,” he barked.

Chewing his nails, his brother glanced over his shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” he said before returning his attention to his charge, whoever the fuck that was. Kevlar had a lot of questions. In time, they’d be answered. Maybe when his headache went away. He was pretty sure the answers would cause a new one. He didn’t need that now.

“Carrie’s in rough shape,” Janell offered.

Who the hell was Carrie?

He peered between Janell, Kelsey, and Remi as though they would answer his unspoken question.

“Bad shit happened,” Kelsey admitted, wrapping her arms around herself in a tight hug. “I don’t know if she’s going to be okay.”

“What kind of shit?” Kevlar demanded. Had the same thing happened to Kelsey? His vision tinged red. His muscles tightened as he clenched his fists. More pain throttled through him, but it only fueled his anger.

Kelsey shook her head.