35. Kevlar
Kevlar
Since there were only three members, rounding everyone up and having a quick chat in the back room before they headed for Oberlin Body Shop didn’t take Kevlar all that long. Tensions were high. They could ride into a trap.
Remi knew what to be on the lookout for, but she was pissed.
Maybe even out of practice. The idea she didn’t care if the Bloody Scorpions were lying in wait for them wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility.
Then again, as prickly as his sister could be, she wouldn’t set him up to die.
She wasn’t coldhearted. She was just over the bullshit.
He couldn’t blame her. This kind of bullshit had been going on her entire life.
She got all the headaches and stress and none of the fun.
Sure, she could get her own Harley-Davidson, but as a woman, she could never join the club.
She didn’t get to be in on the meetings.
For men who thumbed their nose at the rules of society, they sure had a lot of them for themselves.
That was existence as a one-percenter, full of contradictions. It made little sense, but it was one hell of a ride. Kevlar wouldn’t change it for the world. He lived and would die for this.
After circling the block, ensuring no Scorpions were lingering about, Kevlar and his men rolled into the parking lot of the auto shop.
With her hands on her hips, Remi stood at the door, giving all four of them the death stare. The night was dark, and the lot was barely lit by several floodlights on her building.
After cutting the engine, Kevlar got off his bike. Glass crunched beneath his boots. “Lionel,” Kevlar called. “Get a broom.”
With a nod, the man, eager to join their ranks, trotted around him and up to Remi.
She stepped aside and gestured into the building before she resumed her glaring.
Bracing himself for her ire, Kevlar approached. “I didn’t think—”
“No fucking shit.” She cut him off mid-sentence.
“There’s no reason for you to be involved,” he tried again.
She rolled her eyes. “Your name is on the damn building.” Emphatically, she gestured at the body shop wall where their father had his surname painted on it.
One Kevlar and Kid possessed. Remi and Harper did not. Their dad was a dick like that. Since women commonly changed their last name if they got married, he didn’t see the point in giving them his. So, yeah, assuming this business would be tied to Kevlar made sense.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
Despite this being Kevlar’s family business, it didn’t belong to him or Kid. Remi was an independent entity and was under the protection of the Dixie Mafia.
Those suit assholes should be pissed. Which should actually benefit him since they’d entered a tentative alliance. Now they had a mutual enemy. Nothing brought crime rings together like a common foe.
“Why haven’t you changed it?” Kid asked about the business name. “You’re not an Oberlin.”
Kevlar winced. He hadn’t broached that topic on purpose.
Her nostrils flared as her annoyance shifted to the youngest in their family.
Kevlar stepped back, pretending to survey the damage, letting his brother endure the brunt of her anger. Kevlar shouldn’t have to shoulder it alone.
“Do you have any idea how much time and money that would take? It isn’t as simple as a paint job. You know that, right?” Remi snarled as she stalked toward Kid.
Unfazed, he shrugged. “Seems like a little detail that could help distance yourself from us.”
That was the thing though, wasn’t it? As standoffish as Remi was, she didn’t want to cut ties with her brothers. They weren’t who she hoped they would be, but they were and always would be blood.
Hanging his head slightly, Kevlar let the realization of how much they’d disappointed her wash over him.
“Doesn’t matter,” Kevlar interrupted before Remi slugged him.
He stepped up to them and didn’t quite put himself between them but made his presence known.
“What’s done is done,” he added.
Talking about the name of the shop wouldn’t change the current damage. Water under the bridge. They needed to move on and get past it.
Remi whipped around and narrowed her eyes at him.
“We’ll pay for the damage,” he assured again. “We’ll cover the cost of all the parts and the labor. Your customers won’t have to be inconvenienced. Hell, we will even get their rentals while you work your magic and fix the cars.”
She shook her head and brought her fingers to her temples. Rubbing them in circles, Remi huffed. “That’s not the point.”
Kevlar quirked a brow in confusion. He glanced at his patch brothers in hopes they could give him a hint. Kid and Torch shrugged as though they were as bewildered as he.
“Trust.” She sighed heavily. “My customers have to trust that if they drop their shit off at my place, I will keep it safe.”
He nodded. “This was a onetime thing.”
Another pointed stare. Damn. This really had her feathers ruffled. All in all, no one was dead. Hell, there wasn’t even an injury. The damage to the cars was annoying, sure, but some perspective would be nice. The situation could be a hell of a lot bloodier and worse.
“I promise.” He held up his hands, palms toward her, attempting to look innocent, and then brought them together as though he were praying. “This won’t happen again.”
She glanced from him to Kid, and then to Torch, before she huffed, turned on her heel, and marched over to her car. “You’re calling the customers tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he groaned, thankful she had relented slightly.
“I want my lot sparkling when I come back in the morning.” She got into her car without another word.
Kevlar let out a heavy breath and allowed his shoulders to slump. This tit-for-tat bullshit would get old quickly. There had to be a way to end this nonsense sooner rather than later.