34. Kelsey
Kelsey
Nothing made sense. Carrie was a lot of things, desperate, a little naive, funny as hell, but she wasn’t a liar. A poor judge of character? Yes. Someone who had absolutely no self-esteem? For sure, but she’d always been truthful.
So, she wasn’t the one telling stories out of school. Mike, the snake in the grass cock knocker who palled around with the likes of Pete, was. If anyone was into trafficking women, those asshats were. His accusation had to be a confession.
Kev wasn’t the type of person who would pimp women out. Kelsey couldn’t explain why she was so sure of that, but she felt it deep in her bones.
What she did know for certain was that Kev shot up Pete’s sister’s house.
Kelsey wasn’t mad about it. She should be. If anything, believing he would do that should terrify her, but it didn’t. The exact opposite, actually. Believing that he would do something like that, in defense of her, made every cell in her body tingle.
She could admit that meant she was fucked in the head.
No one should resort to violence. Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt or worse. This wasn’t a game or a movie. Those were real bullets in their guns.
Maybe that was what excited her.
He was a bad man, but he was her bad man who drew his gun for her.
At least she assumed she was the reason. Kelsey might not be. Kev didn’t talk about biker stuff with her, so she wouldn’t know if there was another beef between him and Pete. She wasn’t his girlfriend after all.
Right?
Did she want to be?
They hadn’t exactly discussed much. He called her his, but that meant nothing. That was sex talk.
Was she actually sitting in her apartment, wearing sweatpants, no bra, and an old Metallica T-shirt, drinking cheap wine, wondering if she wanted to be in a committed relationship with a man who shot up someone’s house? He hadn’t even told her his real name.
Kevlar? What kind of nickname was that? To be fair, he told her to call him Kev, so she pretended his real name was Kevin. Was it? She had no idea. Either way, who went around calling themselves a bulletproof vest?
A man who wasn’t afraid to use his gun to defend a woman’s honor. A man who could confidently make her knees weak and gave her the best orgasms of her life. A man who took no shit.
Was she out of her mind?
She glanced toward the glass she’d just sipped from. This was serious. She shouldn’t be so cavalier about it. That Carrie had gotten correct.
Kelsey found herself caught in the middle of a biker war. Two men staked a claim to her. One didn’t care how she felt about it. The other, she wanted desperately.
She snorted a laugh at herself and gulped the rest of the wine.
Here she sat, all high and mighty, judging Carrie for her unwavering devotion to Mike, when Kelsey sat in exactly the same position. She didn’t know shit about him other than he fucked like a Greek god.
Also, he had a habit of showing up every time she needed him.
Did Mike do that for Carrie? Was that why she loved him so blindly?
Love? There was a dangerous word.
Kelsey shook her head and put the glass down. She’d had enough wine for the night if she was contemplating love. The dick was good, but not that good.
Covering her face with her hands, she couldn’t help but laugh. This was what happened when she was left alone with her thoughts. She’d gone off the deep end.
Vrr. Vrr.
Her phone vibrated, and her heart skipped a beat.
Would it be Kev? He had a sixth sense about her. Had he figured out she was pondering her feelings about him?
Vrr. Vrr.
She reached for her cell, and the screen flashed with Carrie’s picture.
Relief? Disappointment? Kelsey couldn’t be sure which emotion she was experiencing about who had called her.
Another laugh escaped her. After pressing the button to answer, she brought the phone to her ear and sat back on the couch. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Listen,” Carrie began, forgoing any greeting. “I’m aware you’re mad at Pete.”
That was an understatement. Intense loathing fit much better. That was far more appropriate for someone who barged into her apartment and assaulted her.
“But there’s a party tonight,” her friend continued.
What did that have to do with Kelsey? “What kind of party? Whose party?”
“A bunch of their club brothers and friends are in from out of town, so they’re throwing a shindig at their new clubhouse. It’s not done yet, but they’re having it anyway. It’ll be like those old warehouse raves we used to go to in high school.”
Again, the image of a tree house flashed in Kelsey’s mind.
“Carrie.” Kelsey pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache.
“Pete won’t be there,” Carrie blurted quickly. “It’ll just be Mike and some guys from his club, so you won’t have to worry about bumping into him. Mike asked me to bring friends.”
Kelsey frowned.
“And you’re the best one I’ve got.”
The pleading in Carrie’s voice struck a chord within Kelsey’s chest. She couldn’t leave her hanging.
There was a code among women; they never let their friends visit the lion’s den alone.
While Kelsey hadn’t gone to college, she’d been to her fair share of frat parties with Carrie.
Kelsey could only assume that a biker party was a thousand times more predatory.
Especially if the bikers were anything like Pete.
Never in all her twenty-seven years had Kelsey left Carrie to fend for herself in a situation like that. She couldn’t start now.
“Fine,” Kelsey groaned. “I have to get dressed.”
Carrie squealed on the other end of the phone. “Yay! I’ll be by in a half hour.”
She wouldn’t be ready by then, but maybe, if Kelsey stalled a bit, they could arrive after the cops broke up the soiree that would no doubt be rowdy as hell.
This was a bad idea, but Kelsey couldn’t let Carrie go by herself. As the call ended, Kelsey stared at the blinking screen. Should she reach out to Kev?
He had said if she ran into Pete, he wanted to be told about it, but Carrie said he wasn’t going to be there. She bit her lower lip, contemplating. They weren’t dating. They were fuck buddies.
Bullets had already flown in her name. Maybe. She couldn’t be too sure. She didn’t want to make things worse.
This would be fine. They’d be in and out. There was no need to tell him about it. He wasn’t her keeper, for Christ’s sake. Kev was just someone who made her come—and often.
Attending the festivities would be okay. She and Carrie would be alright. What was the worst that could happen? If they had their club brothers from out of state in town, Mike and his merry band of misfits would be on their best behavior. Besides, Carrie said that Mike wasn’t like Pete.
She would know. Right?