Page 72 of Property of Kevlar

The hour was late. Nearly midnight. There would only be one reason she would call.

While that would be nice, her reaching out for a booty call couldn’t have been more inopportune. Unfortunately, club business impeded his enjoying life’s purest and simplest of pleasures sometimes. Maybe, if she were still awake, he could stop by later.

Loud music and muffled conversation were all he could make out. The sounds were too jumbled for him to understand whether she was speaking. Where was she? A club? A bar?

“Kitten?” he tried again. Had she butt-dialed him?

“No!” she shrieked. “Get off me!”

What the fuck was going on?

“Kelsey,” he hollered into the phone.

Silence.

He pulled the cell back and stared at the blinking screen. The call had ended. That wasn’t good.

Anxiety jittered through his veins. His muscles tensed, and his jaw tightened. Foreboding swirled in his gut. Kelsey was in trouble. Only one place was that dangerous for her.

“Call Paul,” Kevlar barked to his brother, doing his best to stay calm. “We’re going to need reinforcements.”

Kelsey

Pete and the man with the old president patch each took an arm and dragged Kelsey, kicking and screaming, farther into the large room. Heavy guitar riffs and deep drumbeats thundered in her ears from a song she didn’t recognize. Jerking this way and that, she did her best to wrench herself free of the men holding her. Obscenities left her lips, but her protests fell on deaf ears.

Pete pulled a large blade with a curved handle from his hip as he released her. Kelsey tried to use the moment to her advantage, but the president guy was far quicker than he looked. He locked her arms behind her back, thrusting her chest forward.

She bucked and flailed as though she were a bull at the rodeo.

He held on tightly. She couldn’t escape.

“You’ve been a naughty girl,” Pete said as he got closer. “I think it’s time you learned your place.”

The president pushed her forward into Pete so hard that she couldn’t get her footing to kick him. Her gaze fell to the shiny new patch on Pete’s vest. It also read President. How the hell was that possible?

Right now, his position, and how he got there, didn’t fucking matter. She had to get her and Carrie’s asses out of there. Alive.

Pete’s eyes glittered with menace as he brought the blade to her throat.

Raising her chin, Kelsey stilled. She didn’t want to get stabbed, accidentally or on purpose. Her eyes darted around. Surely, someone had to be there who didn’t agree with what was happening.

Where the hell was Carrie?

The roughly fifty people in the room cleared a path, and the conversation halted, but they weren’t looking at Kelsey. She followed their mesmerized gazes, and she spotted her friend.

On a pool table, completely naked, Carrie lay on her back. Hands were all over her. She whimpered as men yanked her thighs apart, obscenely exposing her to everyone. Kelsey closed her eyes and attempted to turn away, but Pete grabbed her jaw roughly, squeezing it hard.

The tip of the blade pressed against her neck, and the first hint of pain tingled as he nicked her. His hot breath heated her skin as he whispered in her ear.

“Watch,” he demanded.

No. She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. Squeezing her eyes shut, she did what she could to defy him.

Kelsey did her best to lift her chin and move away from the blade that pressed harder against her. Blood trailed down her skin.

“Open your eyes,” Pete insisted as he poked her under the chin.

People cheered, apparently enjoying the horrendous show of Carrie’s defilement. Kelsey refused to watch.