17. Kevlar
Kevlar
Annoyance bubbled in Kevlar’s veins. He’d gone to the laundromat to make a deal. Speaking to what would best be described as the fucking secretary of the organization wasn’t ideal. He didn’t have time for bullshit.
Ready to spit nails, he mounted his bike as his cell vibrated in his pocket. Taking it out, he expected to get a check-in from Jameson. He didn’t have fuck all to report yet, and telling him they’d already stepped in shit with the Scorpions without a plan wasn’t high on Kevlar’s list.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t ignore the outreach. There was no sending the national president of his club to voicemail. If Jameson called, Kevlar had to answer.
Cocking his head to the side, he studied the name on the screen. Might as well see what this was about. He tapped the button and brought the phone to his ear.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“So, when were you going to inform me you were in town?” Harper, his older sister, demanded.
He scrubbed the back of neck and glanced toward Kid. “Today?” he lied and mouthed his sister’s name.
His brother nodded knowingly with a wide smile of amusement.
“You’re such a dick,” she grumbled.
Kevlar couldn’t argue.
“And you told Remi before me?” She huffed. “I’m starting to think I’m not your favorite sister.”
He could say the only reason Remi knew before her was because he needed something from her. While an asshole move, it was the truth. There was a lot going on at once. Though in hindsight, he probably should’ve let Harper know. She had a connection he wanted to exploit.
Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? He glanced toward the coffee shop, where he’d last seen Kelsey.
He barely knew the woman, but she’d already proven to be a distraction.
Staying away from her would be the only way to ensure he kept his focus where it belonged—on building his club and running the Bloody Scorpions out of town.
“I just hadn’t gotten the opportunity,” he continued to fib.
She scoffed, and he could imagine her shaking her head in disbelief at him.
“But good news,” he said as he fiddled with one of his side mirrors. “We’re here to stay.”
“Remi told me,” she shot back, but her tone was less than thrilled.
What was that about? Shouldn’t she be happy her brothers were home? Most sisters rejoiced at the reunification. They hadn’t screwed Harper over. Remi, he understood, but why weren’t either of his sisters thrilled they’d returned? He seemed to have missed that memo.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
There was nothing warm and fuzzy in that question. She wasn’t hiding her discontent. That was a punch in the nuts.
“We’re setting up a club,” he said.
While he’d never say that he was close with his sisters, there wasn’t any bad blood. He loved them, and if push came to shove, they’d admit they loved him too. They just weren’t especially close. The club took up so much of his time as a kid. They were on different paths.
“So, you’re going to fuck everything up?” she asked.
If he had been in town when Diesel pulled his shit, it never would’ve happened.
Harper wouldn’t have had a bounty on her head.
Kevlar would’ve taken care of that rebellion before it got so out of hand it cost him his dad and his club.
His sister would’ve never had to endure all that she did.
The Dixie dickheads wouldn’t have had to step up. Things wouldn’t be this messy.
Their father had royally screwed up by sending him and Kid out on a run during that nonsense. So, maybe Harper’s ire was earned. Kid and Kevlar should’ve been around to protect her from his former brothers. Things had gotten way out of hand.
He sighed heavily. “We’re going to do it better. It won’t be like…” His voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to word it.
“This town has no use for the Roughneck Riders,” she declared defiantly.
“Good,” he snorted. “They’re dead.”
Silence.
He couldn’t help but smirk. Finally, he had silenced his older sister. He said something she couldn’t immediately retort to.
Little victories like this one gave him life.
“We’re Royal Bastards,” he informed.
She laughed. “I’ve never heard a more fitting name in the history of motorcycle clubs.”
Enough banter. Time to get down to brass tacks.
“You’re still with Paul, right?” Kevlar asked, moving the conversation along. He didn’t have all day to sit on the phone with her.
“Yes,” she said, skepticism lacing the word.
He nodded. “We’ve got a meeting.”
“Why?”
“I told you.” He grinned. “We’re doing it better.”
“I don’t know what that means.” Exasperation came through the line.
“You don’t have to,” he quipped, doing his best not to let annoyance take hold. “Just rest assured that your family is back in town, and things are going to go well. But if you want to be helpful, maybe get your boyfriend on our side.”
“We were fine before you showed up,” she snapped, ignoring his request.
He held a hand over his chest as though she could see him and let out an exaggerated gasp. “You mean you didn’t miss us?”
She groaned. “Not really.”
Enough playing games. She wasn’t participating anyway. So what was the point?
“Whatever. We’re here.” He glanced toward his brother, who had immersed himself in his phone, scrolling.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Anytime, sis,” he said. “Love you. Talk to you soon.”
With the call ended, he stuffed the cell back into his pocket. “We should go to the Knucklehead and find Jerry.”
Kid tucked his phone away with a nod.
Using the shop and invading Remi’s space wasn’t ideal. The room was small, filled with car parts, and had entirely too much traffic. It would work in a pinch, but they needed something bigger and better. He couldn’t come up with a more perfect place to set up and recruit members than a biker bar.