Page 23 of Property of Kevlar

“Is Remi around?” Kid asked.

The man looked over his shoulder and into the building.

Kevlar followed his gaze and smiled. Wearing matching overalls and an Oklahoma City Thunder hat, his sister stood beside the wheel of a beat-up sedan, holding an impact gun and removing lug nuts.

“Thanks,” Kevlar said as he strolled by her employee.

Kid clapped the guy on the shoulder as he passed him and followed.

Dropping lug nuts into a metal bowl of sorts, Remi worked as though completely unaware of her brothers. To be fair, the tool was loud, and she had the radio blasting. Kevlar doubted she could hear her own thoughts.

With both hands on the tire, she wiggled it for half a second before turning toward him. Her brows knitted together, and her gaze traveled up and down him before flicking over to Kid and back at him.

No glee.

No excitement.

She practically glared at them.

That wasn’t the kind of homecoming he’d hoped for, but it wasn’t the worst. One time, he pissed her off so badly that she threw a tire at him.

“You’re late,” she said before resuming her task.

She wasn’t wrong. He’d been scheduled for a shift three years ago and never showed up. No call. Nothing. He just left her high and dry. If she was pissed, she had every right in the world to be.

Hanging his head, Kevlar kicked at some pebbles on the ground.

“Yeah. Traffic’s been a bitch,” he said, scrubbing the back of his neck.

She snorted, shook her head, and continued jiggling the tire off.

“Want some help?” Kevlar approached.

“Three years ago,” she snapped as she got the wheel off and bounced it on the ground.

Pieces of metal tinked on the cement floor. Apparently, this was a brake job. The shoe had been shredded.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who should’ve come to the shop sooner.” He gestured to the car she worked on.

Once again, she glared at him. He deserved every one of her dirty looks. He’d accept his lumps.

“What do you want?” she asked as she moseyed over to a large drawer of tools.

Movement drew Kevlar’s attention. Turning toward it, he watched the guy in matching overalls easing a Honda hatchback into the open bay with Kid’s guidance. Kevlar shifted out of the way. Not that he would get hit or anything, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“We’re back,” he informed his sister, unable to contain the pride.

She opened the metal drawer and picked through the implements inside.

No reaction to him. Not even a hint of acknowledgement that he’d spoken.

“Kid and I are here for good,” he clarified.

Remi peered over her shoulder at him. “Kid?” she repeated quizzically.

Kevlar nodded. “New club. New names.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Plucking a large flathead screwdriver, she came back toward the car.