Page 83 of Property of Kevlar

“We got her Plan B,” Janell offered. “We did some basic over-the-counter STI screenings, but she can follow up to make sure.”

What the actual fuck?

Kevlar locked his gaze on Kelsey.

“Not me,” she mouthed. “I’m okay.”

He wanted to believe her. Rage had him shaking, though he couldn’t discount the shock. The night had been rough for everyone. If he could, he’d resurrect that piece of shit, Yogi, and rip his dick off so he could shove it down his throat.

Torch approached him and clapped him on the back. Lightning shot through him from the pain, drawing his focus to his club brother.

“You did well, Pres,” he said. “They’re gone. Chased those fuckers right out of town.”

Warmth blossomed on the other side of him. Kelsey’s fingers grazed gingerly over his injured shoulder before she pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

He couldn’t help but grin like a buffoon. She did that to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For always rescuing me and not dying.”

Closing his eyes, he let out a breath. Everyone looked beat to shit, but their spirits were high. He’d won a war with barely any brothers. If that wasn’t a good sign for the Royal Bastards in Oklahoma, he wasn’t sure what was. Everything was finally in order. He had his club, his brothers, and his woman. What more could a man ask for?

43

Kelsey

One Week Later

At the time, the decision to have him crash at her place was logical. Kelsey couldn’t let Kev stay in a hotel. Who would watch over him? While Janell said he wasn’t that bad, she still suggested he had a concussion. Not to mention, he’d been stabbed.

Oh, and let’s not forget, he’d killed people. For Kelsey. That was a hard fact she had trouble swallowing. Kevlar was capable of horrendous violence, but with her, he was nothing but gentle and apparently made of steel.

The guy had taken a knife and a bullet to get Kelsey out of the bowels of hell. The least she could do was invite him to stay with her while he healed. His stitches were out, and his headaches were all but gone, which meant he had no reason to stick around.

Would he? What was in it for him? What would he do?

Protect her from her nightmares? He’d done a damn good job each night she woke up in cold sweats screaming as what she witnessed and experienced replayed in her sleep.

The therapy he forced her into would help, eventually. She’d continue going to make it stop and keep him happy. Having a bodyguard sleeping beside her did more than talking, but she’d have to try.

For a big, tough, badass biker, he showed her tenderness, understanding, and compassion. She didn’t know men like him were capable of such things. Kev was a walking contradiction.

Fresh out of the shower, wearing a towel around her head and a robe about her body, she redressed his wounds.

“Looks like you’re healing nicely,” she commented. Not that she had any sort of medical training, but the wound wasn’t oozing pus, so she took that as a good sign.

He glanced at the bandage as she taped it down. “Yeah. I’m headed out on my bike this afternoon.”

“Oh?” That was a surprise. He’d been under strict advisement not to ride for six weeks because of his injury. Apparently, it could aggravate his head or something. Kelsey didn’t understand, but she wasn’t about to second-guess the medical advice of those who knew better.

“Yeah. Kid and I are going to check out a space for our new clubhouse,” he said.

She nodded. Clubhouse. That was what Carrie had called the hellhole where they’d been assaulted. Fighting the urge to cringe as the images of Carrie on the pool table flashed in her mind, Kelsey exhaled a heavy breath.

She wasn’t there.

They were in her apartment.

Kev was with her.