Page 29 of Property of Kevlar

The man gestured to the seat. “Sit. Let’s discuss.”

“And you are?” Kevlar finally asked.

Puffing out his chest, the man stuck out a hand. “Mickey Kirk, Michael’s son.”

Ah! He was someone. Kevlar accepted the gesture and shook his hand before taking a seat.

His brother merely nodded and sat beside Kevlar.

Unbuttoning his blazer, Mickey joined them. “So, what brings you back to town?”

“We’re home,” Kevlar said.

Mickey relaxed in the chair. He said nothing else. No questions. He merely watched Kevlar expectantly.

Kevlar shifted in his seat. Answering to another person, who wasn’t his president, wasn’t his style. Especially considering he was sent to start a club. He was supposed to be in charge, not this pompous dingus.

But he had to play nice if he wanted to get his club off the ground. He needed the Dixie fucks more than they did him.

“You know the Roughneck Riders are gone,” Kevlar said.

Mickey nodded.

“The Royal Bastards want to set up a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he said, leaning over the table, resting his elbows on it and clasping his hands together. “Considering our family ties, I had hoped yours would be open to that.”

Mickey pursed his lips but said nothing. His gaze shifted from Kevlar to Kid as though assessing them while he tapped the table.

“We’re open to giving your family five percent of our earnings for the first five years,” Kevlar offered. “In exchange for your backing and support while we get up and running.”

“I’ll discuss it with my father and uncle. We’ll be in touch.”

16

Kelsey

Safely inside the coffeehouse, Kelsey let out a breath. Kev had done it again. He’d rescued her from Pete. She thanked whatever force of the universe at play that brought him when she needed him.

Without placing an order, she sat at the table closest to the door and watched the interaction between the bikers. These were dangerous men. The situation could turn violent quickly. She’d already learned Pete was quick with his temper. Also, she had it on good authority that all three of them were strapped.

Which wasn’t exactly outside the norm in Oklahoma. Men around these parts loved to brandish their guns. However, this was different. These were the type of men who weren’t afraid to use them. They didn’t carry to overcompensate for small dicks. These men were armed out of necessity.

That shouldn’t make her all tingly.

The last thing she wanted was to cause a shoot-out—let alone get caught in the crossfire. As Pete turned and walked away, she let out an audible breath. Another potential disaster avoided thanks to Kev. She should get him a fruit basket or something.

Snorting at her own thought, she waited to see what her biker one-night stand/savior would do. He’d mentioned getting coffee, but she doubted he meant it. He sent her out of the line of fire. For that, she was eternally grateful. Twice now, he’d stepped in and saved her ass.

When he and his friend got off their bikes, they didn’t head her way. Instead, they ducked into the laundromat. She furrowed her brows. Why?

Neither of them carried a basket nor a laundry bag. They couldn’t wash clothes they hadn’t brought, so why would they go in there?

Shaking her head, she put it out of her mind. Their purpose wasn’t any of her business. Kelsey wasn’t a criminal or a biker. She didn’t need to concern herself with whatever Kev did.

Instead, she pushed off the table and went to the counter. She had a list of caffeinated beverages to get. Her co-workers would wonder if she got lost if she didn’t get back soon. Besides, she had another appointment. She couldn’t stand around watching and waiting for Kev to come out.

Orders balanced in hand, considering everyone and their mother wanted some caffeine, Kelsey strolled down the sidewalk from the coffeehouse to the salon. She told herself not to check. Whether or not their bikes were still there didn’t matter. Kev and his buddy weren’t her concern.

Except she did.