Page 7 of Property of Kevlar

Kid peered at him in confusion.

“Um.” The woman looked up at him with fear in her eyes. Rightfully so. He’d pulled a gun on someone. Any person of sound mind would run in the other direction.

Kevlar shrugged. “Or not. I don’t care. I just figured you wouldn’t want to get into an Uber with your tits hanging out.”

She glanced down as if unaware of her current state. “I-I guess.”

4

Kelsey

Had Kelsey hopped out of the frying pan and landed in the fire? Pete was a first-rate creep. She’d needed him to leave her alone, but what about these guys? She flicked her gaze between the broad-chested man with the thick beard and short deep-brown hair and the lankier, heavily tattooed fella with the shaggy dark-blond hair.

The first detail that stuck out about them was their black leather cuts. Bikers. The second was the same diamond one percent symbol that Pete had worn on a necklace. They had a matching patch stitched onto their vests.

She’d shot herself in the foot. Pete had intended to hurt her. Of that, she had no doubt. She didn’t want to even consider what his plans had been, but safe to say, her consent was not required.

What about these two?

Could she trust them?

She’d lost her phone when she took it out and Pete snatched it from her before she slammed her head against his. Then he’d stomped on it as she ran from him. Her ability to call for an Uber was quite minimal at this point. They had her over a barrel.

This wasn’t her normal stomping grounds. She’d never been to this bar before. The Knucklehead screamed biker headquarters. They catered to a particular clientele, from what she’d seen. If she went inside and tried to call for a cab, her situation could be a thousand times worse.

Kelsey was up shit creek without a paddle. This was a bad idea, but what choice did she have?

“You’re going to take me home, right?” she asked. “Not back to your headquarters or whatever?”

Like they would tell her otherwise. These were the kind of men who didn’t exactly believe in being honest. They were criminals.

The two of them peered at each other before snickering. Broody beardo, whose vest proclaimed his nickname to be Kevlar, returned his attention to her.

“Let us know where you want to go,” he said, placing a hand with splayed fingers on his chest. “And we’ll get you there safely.”

The man behind him, whose vest called him Kid, dipped his chin in a brief nod of agreement.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Kelsey weighed her options. Did she accept a ride from the men on bikes, or did she take her chances inside the bar? She was going to rip Carrie’s head off when she saw her again. How dare she put her in this situation?

Not only did she leave Kelsey with a fucking predator for some mediocre, at best, dick, but now Kelsey had to depend on complete strangers to get her home. She was screwed six ways from Sunday. Kelsey needed better friends.

Kevlar—beardo—swung his leg over his bike, twisted, and patted the bit of padding behind him. “Are you coming?”

Kid hopped on his motorcycle, and when she glanced in his direction, he waggled his brows.

What did that mean? With his baby face and the expression he wore, she wasn’t afraid. He gave off a goofy and playful vibe, not a rapey one.

But could she be sure? Should she trust her instincts about these guys?

Blowing out a breath, she shimmied her shoulders and held her head high. “Let’s do this.”

Doing her best to keep her dignity in ripped clothes, with her tits hanging out, she sauntered over to Kevlar and paused.

Well, shit. This thing was a lot wider than she’d expected. There was no way she could get on it without falling over. Would her leg even go that high?

“Have you been on one of these before?” he asked.

She shook her head.