Page 58 of Property of Kevlar

She went rigid and recoiled. “I can’t go in there!”

He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

Standing in the middle of the parking lot wouldn’t solve shit. She needed a place to relax and settle in. Maybe have a drink or two. Her apartment wasn’t an option. His hotel room would send the wrong message. He should work on getting a more permanent residence. Especially since his brother had all but moved in with Vanessa.

Kelsey slipped out of his hold and once again crossed her arms over herself. “I don’t have a bra on.”

“So?” What was wrong with that? He kind of liked her without one. Easy access.

Not to mention, the Knucklehead was known for having a few ladies every so often climbing up on the bar, shaking their asses, and taking their tops off. She’d fit right in. No one would care or notice.

If they did, they’d have to deal with him.

“I look like shit.”

“Not to me.” He shrugged and went toward the rear entrance of the bar. At least her crying had ceased, but her eyes were still red and swollen.

From what he’d experienced with Kelsey, she liked to wear makeup. Everything from colorful shades of eyeshadow above her lids, false lashes, and tempting lip colors. She was a talented artist. If he remembered correctly, she was literally an artist and did makeup for a living. So walking around in public in the state she was, wouldn’t exactly speak to her skill and services. She couldn’t be a walking billboard in this condition.

Though in his opinion she didn’t need it. He’d seen her, fresh out of the shower, barefaced and raw. Hot fucking damn, his dick twitched just thinking about the water dripping between her breasts.

Kelsey possessed effortless beauty. When she painted herself with cosmetics, they only enhanced what she already had. Kevlar would never complain about her desire to gussy up, but she needed to learn that it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m not going in there,” she asserted, lifting her chin in defiance.

Adorable.

He loved when she demonstrated her confidence. She could hold her own in the right circumstances. Yogi, the gun-wielding psychopath, wasn’t it. The guy had about sixty pounds on her. She was smart. She wouldn’t take shit lying down, but she wasn’t reckless.

Kelsey had all the ingredients to be an old lady.

What the fuck? Where did that come from?

Damn, this woman had him twisted in knots.

Kevlar wouldn’t have his reaction to her any other way.

Gripping the handle, he paused. “This door goes to a private back room. Only me and my men are permitted in there. No one else.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She didn’t speak, and he interpreted her hesitance as consideration.

“I’m not going to make you,” he assured her. “But you’re safer in there than you are out here.”

Again, she looked around. What did she expect to find? Yogi? Someone else to save her? The cops?

Ha! That wouldn’t happen. They all knew better than to show up at the Knucklehead. This was Royal Bastards territory.

When she brought her focus back to him, she cautiously stepped toward him. “You promise?”

Kevlar raised his free arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “On my honor, I won’t let anything happen to you, Kitten.”

On his honor? What the fuck was that about? Kevlar didn’t have any damn honor. Where did he even come up with that? He must’ve heard it in a movie. He didn’t talk like that.

On his honor? What a joke.

But he meant it. Taking her chin between his fingers, he tilted her face toward his.

She wasn’t as frantic as she had been when they arrived, though fear was still in her gaze. He couldn’t blame her. Not that long ago, they’d been shot at. Thankfully, Yogi had terrible aim. Kevlar needed to say something to calm her, to get her to understand the position she was in.