27. Kevlar
Kevlar
Doing this was risky. They shouldn’t go into the lion’s den. Technically, there wasn’t a den yet. A lot of work needed to be done before the building could function as a clubhouse. Kevlar and Kid blended in with the slew of contractors milling about easily.
Especially because they left their bikes at Remi’s shop.
The pickup, which desperately needed an oil change, wasn’t on the schedule until later that evening, which left it available for borrowing.
She shouldn’t know it went missing. They’d take care of the maintenance when they got back. That way she couldn’t be mad at them.
She would be, but only if she discovered they’d used the truck without permission. However, he had a plan to make the situation right. He wasn’t a complete asshole. Not in his mind anyway.
Sitting in the cab of the borrowed vehicle, Kevlar and Kid ducked so that they wouldn’t be noticed as Yogi and his club brother strolled past. Shortly after, the sound of rumbling Harleys filled the silence, and they left.
Kevlar and Kid pulled off hiding in plain sight. Now that the Scorpions were gone, the two could get an in-depth inspection of their enemy’s new compound.
The door squeaked as Kevlar opened it. When they got back, he’d make sure to hit the hinges with WD-40.
“Not a terrible location,” Kid commented, walking around the truck.
Kevlar nodded as he surveyed the property. “Building looks like shit.”
Kid shrugged. “All cosmetic.”
Kevlar peered at him. “Do you not see the cracks in the foundation? This place has been neglected for a long-ass time.”
“Easy fixes.”
Kevlar snorted a laugh. “Oh, with all your extensive construction knowledge, you’re saying it’s no big deal? Tell me more.”
His brother glared in his direction. “Whatever. All I’m saying is for what they paid for it, they were smart to convert it into a clubhouse.”
Kevlar couldn’t argue. There was more useful infrastructure in this place than an old warehouse. Which had been his original plan. That was how his father had done it. Using something like this building had never occurred to him.
With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, Kid trudged closer to the structure.
The former nursing home, run by nuns, had a main building that looked as though it’d housed a few squatters recently.
It stank of mold and urine. What had once been a reception desk had small burn marks on the counter.
The walls were covered in graffiti. Doors to offices were busted in half or ripped off the hinges.
Moving through the space, they noted all the holes in the walls.
To the left and the right were hallways that hosted a series of rooms. In the rear of the main room was probably a nursing station.
Old binders were strewn about the trash, with papers documenting their former patients’ conditions.
Beyond that was a large room with busted chairs, an old, stained mattress, and a folding table on its side with a missing leg.
Once things were cleared out, it wouldn’t take much in the way of work to get this place functional. The nursing station could be transformed into a bar. Combining the offices into a large conference room could be their church.
The patient rooms could be converted into lodging for the officers of his club. They could use a couple for storage. Hell, there was even a gym set up already. They could update the equipment, and his men would have a place to work out.
As unconventional as it was, this space was ideal for a clubhouse. Standing in the activity room, as the small sign still glued to the wall identified, he hung out at the foot of a small stage. The vision of the Royal Bastards logo on dark curtains flashed in his mind.
“Good bones,” Kevlar said more to himself than to his brother beside him.
“I can’t believe we didn’t think of it,” Kid commented as he kicked an empty beer can.
Kevlar smirked. “Well, I have a feeling the new owners may look to sell soon.”
Kid grinned. “Can we wait until they clean the place up?”
Kevlar nodded. “If they want to spend their money, who am I to deny them?”
This would be their new home. When the time was right, the Royal Bastards would claim it. Kid had a valid point. Extensive repairs were needed. If they could avoid being the ones footing that bill, that would be ideal.
While Kevlar didn’t have to worry about money, and neither did his club, that didn’t mean he had to spend it foolishly.
That had been another of his dad’s sins. When Snoopy should’ve been investing in the club, he purchased a new bike instead. Kevlar wouldn’t be a president like his father.
Together, the brothers sauntered out of the building with their heads held high. They were on the same page. Both of them wanted this building.
“There’s plenty of space for a detached garage,” Kid commented.
“Yeah, it would be nice to have a place to work on the bikes,” he agreed.
As they got back into the borrowed pickup, Kid sighed. “I want to start a shop.”
Kevlar furrowed his brows. “What kind?”
Remi had the auto-body shop. Opening something to be her competition wouldn’t make sense. Sure, they didn’t have a monetary stake in it, but sometimes that wasn’t the point. She was their blood.
“Like Monet’s back in Washington,” Kid said, referencing their club brother who had taught Kid how to tattoo.
“Oh,” Kevlar said as the realization hit him.
His highly inked little brother wanted to run his own legitimate business. That wasn’t a bad idea. They could always use another way to launder the money they earned through other means. A tattoo shop could earn a pretty penny. Plus, from what Kevlar had seen, Kid was talented.
Kevlar started the pickup. “Good idea,” he said as rested his arm on the rear of the seat and backed the truck out of the spot. “Where are you thinking?
Kid shrugged. “Maybe downtown.”
The strip mall where they’d last seen Kelsey popped into his head. “Near that coffee place?” he asked.
If he were an honest man, he would admit that he suggested that location because it was near her and he wanted any opportunity to run into her again. Except Kevlar wasn’t known for telling the truth. Not to others, and apparently not to himself either.
“I thought I saw a vacancy sign in a window there,” he lied.
Kid glanced out the window. “Not a terrible idea.”
“We’ll scout spots.” Kevlar didn’t care if he had to call in another favor with the Dixie guys; they were getting a storefront in that plaza whether there was an opening or not.
In the cupholder, his phone vibrated as they turned out onto the highway.
Both of their gazes darted to it.
Their sister’s name flashed on the screen.
Kevlar pressed the button to answer the call and put it on speaker while he drove.
“What the actual fuck?” she screeched.
“Hi, Remi. Wonderful to hear from you. How is your day going?” Kevlar asked as if he wasn’t aware of the reason for her call.
“Asshole, where is the Silverado you stole?”
“Borrowed,” he corrected.
“Bring it back.”
“On my way.”
The screen flashed as the call ended. He doubted Remi had heard his response.
“She sounds pissed,” Kid said.
Kevlar shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”
This shouldn’t be new to Remi. When their dad ran the body shop, the Roughneck Riders were constantly borrowing cars to do shit.
Why wouldn’t they? The tags couldn’t be traced to them.
The arrangement was perfect. If the Dixie guys weren’t using her business this way, they were missing an opportunity.
Kevlar had no intention of running his club how his father had, but Snoopy hadn’t been a complete moron.
Some of his actions made sense. Kevlar would take the good and ditch the bad.
He’d learn from his dad’s fuckups. Jameson was a far better mentor and president, which was why he still had a much larger club than the Roughneck Riders would ever have dreamed of.