Page 36 of Property of Kevlar

Nodding, Kevlar stepped away and motioned toward the bar. “Let’s have a drink and talk.”

Switching from tequila shots to beer, Kevlar ordered a round and gestured to the table in the corner. The one that had once been reserved for Roughneck Riders and would now be a Royal Bastards table. He’d get their logo printed on the wall. He wanted there to be no questions about it; this was their territory. No Scorpions welcome.

A makeshift clubhouse, doubling their numbers, a meeting set up with the Dixie Dicks. Today had been productive. Torch agreed to become their sergeant at arms. Lionel was honored to accept a prospect patch. They were moving in the right direction.

Kevlar, on the other hand, wasn’t.

He should’ve gone left on Stuyvesant. Not right.

He could’ve turned around on Baker Street, but he didn’t.

Had he had too many shots? Beers? Had he forgotten how to get to the hotel?

Nah.

Telling himself he was guarding his territory, he pulled into the tiny parking lot of the apartment complex. Maybe he should look into getting a place here. Living a few doors down would make things a lot more convenient. Not to mention the building was smack-dab in the middle of his turf. At least then he’d have an actual excuse for showing up.

Right now, all he had were bullshit reasons and denial.

Yogi had popped up where he didn’t belong already. Kevlar couldn’t take any chances.

That seemed like solid logic.

Nodding to himself, he backed into the spot across from Kelsey’s apartment door.

The lights were off. The spot directly in front of her place was empty. He didn’t know what she drove, but he assumed she wasn’t home. Checking his phone for the time, he frowned. Two in the morning. Where the hell could she be?

With Yogi.

He snarled as the thought crossed his mind. She wouldn’t do that. While he’d only seen her twice in his entire life, on both occasions, she made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in Scorpion company.

Bright lights shone to his right. Holding up his hand and squinting, he twisted toward them to watch the small sedan enter the lot. Then the space before Kelsey’s door was filled. Once his eyes adjusted, he studied the vehicle—a white Hyundai Elantra. Nothing fancy. Pure function.

The driver’s side door opened, and bathed in moonlight, his voluptuous blond goddess exited the car, fluffed her hair, and straightened her blouse. She kept her back to him, never once casting so much as a sideways glance in his direction.

Terrible survival skills. She should always be aware of her surroundings. One never knew what could be lying in wait for them.

Maybe a biker with bad intentions lurked in the shadows.

He smirked.

What a joke. As far as stalkers went, he didn’t exactly hide. So, one could safely assume he sucked at this.

As she trotted up the small walkway to her door, she dug in her purse. Kevlar appreciated the way her jeans hugged her ass. Did she wear thongs? He’d forgotten to notice when they’d fucked in her apartment.

Maybe he should check.

She would look fucking hot as hell with a thin string between her cheeks. Even better with his face there. He’d missed his opportunity to taste her last night.

Running his hand along his forehead, he decided that he’d had too much to drink and definitely shouldn’t be driving his motorcycle. Unfortunately, he didn’t have another option. He wasn’t in the habit of boosting cars, and he hadn’t received an invitation to join her again.

That ship had sailed. They were a one-and-done situation.

Then why was he there?

To protect his territory.

He snorted again. Repeating it, even in his head, wouldn’t make it true, but he wasn’t ready to admit what really went on.