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Kevlar, seeming oblivious to the unspoken conversation, filled all the glasses with more tequila. “Alright, last shot before we hit the road.”

He turned, holding the glasses, and his expression fell as he glanced between the two.

“What?” he asked.

Kelsey plastered an obviously forced smile on her face as she grabbed one drink from him. “Nothing.” She gulped down the alcohol.

Kevlar shifted his attention to Kid.

As she shivered through the recoil of the tequila, Kid swallowed his serving as well. “Don’t worry about it.”

What his brother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. However, what Kelsey knew could bite him in the ass. He didn’t want Carrie to be hurt by anything—least of all his own actions. What the hell had he done?

33

Carrie

With a blow dryer in one hand and a large round brush in the other, Carrie’s mind wandered while her client scrolled through her phone during her blowout. There were days when Carrie appreciated and looked forward to conversations with the people who sat in her chair while she beautified them. Not everyone was up for a conversation. Some people weren’t chatty.

Today, Carrie wasn’t up for it. There weren’t many occasions when she relished her more silent clients. She could fake it and pay attention, but it was nice not to have to try. Her heart and mind were heavy with the recent events.

Her tiny apartment felt huge with Kid’s absence. Her couch was colder and her bed emptier. She missed him, and that disappointed her. Despite her therapy and the progress she made, for some reason, she still felt incomplete without a man in her life.

Perhaps she should open this can of worms with her counselor. Though, she’d have to admit that she’d been sleeping with Kid in the first place. For some reason, after all she’d been through, she doubted her therapist would be happy that she’d been fucking a biker after what a different biker had done to her.

Carrie shut off the blow dryer, turned to place it on the counter of her station, and let out a heavy breath.

“Alright.” Plastering on her best customer-service smile, she stood behind her client, fluffed her hair, and pushed it over her shoulders. “I think we’re all set.”

The woman tucked her phone away and met Carrie’s eyes in the mirror.

Could she see through the façade? Did she know about the turmoil Carrie wallowed in?

“You are a miracle worker,” the lady said with a thousand-watt grin of her own.

Apparently not. Carrie continued to possess and utilize the skill of masking her true feelings from others.

Something she didn’t have to do around Kid. For the first time, she’d let someone see her true authentic self. He’d stood beside her, helped her, and guided her through the ugliest time of her existence. Somehow, he still looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. When she was around Kid, with him, he filled her with confidence. He shattered every one of her insecurities.

Pulling the cape from the lady in her chair, she stepped aside. “Gloria will take care of you up front,” Carrie said, gesturing toward the door.

Rising from her seat, the woman reached into her purse and extended a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks, Carrie.”

With a brief nod of appreciation, Carrie accepted the tip, but her mind wandered to Kid. What was he doing right now?

On paper, without discussing the finer details of who Kid was, yeah, banging one biker after getting raped by a bunch of others was bad. Maybe if she could explain her decision to someone else, they would understand how she got in this position.

Or was she rationalizing her poor choices again?

Placing both of her palms down on the counter, she peered at herself in the mirror. On the outside, she was perfectly put together. Her hair fell perfectly. Her eyeliner wings were damn near symmetrical. Usually, she got them to look like sisters rather than twins, but today, she’d nailed it.

Despite being presentable, her shoulders slumped, and her makeup did little to hide the stress creases at the corners of her eyes. She needed some fresh air.

Straightening, she turned to her friend’s station. Finding it empty, she strolled over and bumped Kelsey’s shoulder as the woman arranged makeup brushes.

“You got a client coming in?” Carrie asked. Certain times of year were busier for her makeup artist bestie. Different seasons brought a variety of reasons for people to want their makeup done professionally.

Kelsey nodded. “Homecoming trial.”