10. Kevlar
Kevlar
Kevlar shouldn’t have slept with Kelsey—in both senses of the word. Mere hours ago, she was assaulted by a Scorpion. Fucking her wasn’t right. Then again, when had he concerned himself with the right thing? His entire existence was based on doing wrong. Banging Kelsey was par for the course.
With the woman snuggled against his side, her head on his chest, the two of them lay on the floor wrapped in a throw blanket. He watched the room brighten. Outside, the sun rose. A new day had started.
He couldn’t stick around. There was a ton of shit to do. Reclaiming his home territory would take a lot of work.
One night off was enough.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to her forehead before rolling her and sliding his arm from beneath her. She groaned sleepily, tucked her hands beneath her face, and settled back into slumber.
Whew. He hadn’t wanted to wake her.
Their evening together didn’t need to be discussed. He’d done more than he should have. She was safe. He’d make sure the Scorpions were out of town sooner rather than later. She wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore.
Practically tiptoeing through the apartment, he gathered his clothes, doing his best not to disturb her. He didn’t usually sneak out of a woman’s place. Mostly because he rarely fucked anywhere but his clubhouse. Unfortunately, currently, he had yet to establish one of those in Oklahoma.
In time.
He’d get his life, and club, together. First, he had to leave. Then he could figure out where they would set up shop.
Jeans and shirt on. Feet in his boots. He reached for his vest. With it in his hand, he studied the way the morning rays shone through the window. They made Kelsey’s blond hair glow. If he didn’t know for a fact that she fucked like a demoness sent straight from hell, he’d think her an angel.
Smirking at himself, he slid his vest on and opened the door.
“It was nice to meet you, Kitten,” he whispered before he crept out of her apartment.
Stepping into the day, he glanced around the parking lot as he strolled toward his Fat Boy. Not another bike in sight. He wasn’t surprised. The Bloody Scorpion would’ve been a complete and utter idiot to show up. They were notoriously stupid, but they weren’t that dumb.
The guy probably went back to his brothers, drank a few beers, and whined to them about what happened. Which meant a giant target would be on Kevlar’s back.
Blowing out a breath, he threw his leg over his bike.
He hadn’t even officially established his club yet, and they were already involved in a skirmish.
He wouldn’t go so far as to say it was a war, because in reality, as a member of the Royal Bastards MC, they were always fighting with the Bloody Scorpions.
This inconvenience was merely another scuffle in their long-standing feud.
A dustup wasn’t completely unexpected. He’d only hoped it would’ve taken a few months, hell, even a few weeks would’ve been nice, before they butted heads with another organization.
Kevlar thought he’d have to tangle with the Dixie Mafia assholes.
They’d been the reason he left in the first place.
He hadn’t expected a Scorpion to be on his home turf.
Though if he were honest with himself, this situation was his own fault. What did he expect when he abandoned his home? There was a lot of potential in Oklahoma. Which was why so many syndicates were set up in the area. If the Scorpions hadn’t shown up, someone else would have.
After turning the engine over, he twisted the throttle to get the bike warmed up and immediately regretted it.
A woman who had pulled into the spot beside him got out of her sedan and narrowed her eyes at him. He was accustomed to the dirty looks from respectable people. Though not usually at this hour. Such negativity in the morning seemed like a poor start to the day.
Not that he had a clue what time it was. He assumed early. He probably shouldn’t be making so much noise. Such an asshole move. He hadn’t thought about it, though he couldn’t help it. Harley-Davidsons were loud by nature. There wasn’t a quiet way to start his bike.
He kicked the stand and got the bike moving. Kevlar had more important things to worry about than disturbing a few people he’d never see again. If he was up, the entire neighborhood should be.
Pulling out of the parking lot, he wiped the experience from his mind.
What he should be worried about was just how pissed off his brother would be when he showed up at the ass crack of dawn.
Kid wasn’t a morning person. Not that Kevlar was either, but Kid had a tendency to shoot and ask questions later. He hated being woken up.
Chuckling to himself, he recalled the time some hanger-on tried to kiss Kid’s ass and brought him coffee in the morning after a hell of a rager the night before. If Kid hadn’t still been drunk, the hanger-on would’ve lost part of his head.
Kevlar’s brother was a hell of a shot. He missed only when he wanted to. Sneaking up on him was in no one’s best interest—waking him was even worse.
As Kevlar turned down the road and headed toward the hotel where they stayed, he decided he would remove Kid’s gun from his reach before he woke him up. Getting a bullet in him would only make his return home that much worse.
So far, the only bright spot had been Kelsey, and that was behind him now.
Getting shot by his little brother wasn’t high on his to-do list. Not that battling the Scorpions was, but things were what they were.
This was the nature of the biker life. People always wanted what he had.
Too bad they weren’t good enough to get it.