Page 112 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“So, um, I took a weekend to come to Tulsa to look into Vidal and this Collins character. Vidal was recruiting models at a big event downtown, but he was meeting regularly with Collins. At first, I thought Collins was some super-hot guy Vidal wanted to recruit, but after some time, I realized Collins was just a suit in a tower. A partner of sorts. Whatever his business was, he kept it vague and quiet. To an outsider, maybe it seemed like investments or an accounts manager. But, something niggled at me. I had to dig deeper.”

I’m tired as fuck and have had a long day. This is the story that keeps on telling. I want her to get to the part that involves me. “Another wormhole.”

“Exactly,” she says, flashing me a brief smile. “You, of all people, know how it is. Once you get on the hunt, you have to keep pulling on all the threads until it’s unraveled at your feet.”

“So you came here looking for some douchebag who put pretty ideas in your not-so-pretty friend’s head, found amysterious motherfucker in the process, and then somehow decided to fuck me and my brother over?”

She rolls her eyes, the action making her seem younger now that she doesn’t have her usual Stormy makeup plastered on her. If she’s a Fed, she can’t be too young, but she still has to be at least twenty years younger than my old ass who’s pushing fifty.

“I decided to meet with Collins. I found his office and went right up to it. Pretended to get lost looking for another place I was to interview for.” She frowns as she rubs the top of her mug with her thumb. “He was just a normal looking businessman, but he was interested in me. I could tell he liked what he saw. Collins asked me if I wanted to meet with his friend Vidal. A modeling scout.”

Stormy modeling is something I could imagine. She has legs for days, perfect tits, and hips that were made for digging your fingers into. Where Koyn’s woman, Hadley, has the innocent look of a pageant girl, Stormy looks like one of those sexy yet still angelic Victoria’s Secret runway models.

“Okay,” I urge. “What happened then?”

“He stepped away to make the call. I snooped while he was gone. Sitting in a file on his desk was a folder labeled Koynakov.”

I tense up, frowning. Who the fuck are these assholes and why were they looking into us?

“It mentioned an MC gang called the Royal Bastards,” she explains. “It mentioned you being a Fed and your affiliation with the gang.”

Fury surges through me. Hansel and Gretel, sensing my sudden change in mood, whine as though they’re worried and don’t know why.

“I’ve been so careful,” I growl. “Koyn and I both have. There’s no way we should have been on anyone’s radar. This makes no fucking sense.”

She shrugs. “It was there in black and white. Knowing a Fed was working with an MC gang, I had to dig deeper. I wanted to take a picture, but Collins returned with Vidal.” Her lip curls up. “Vidal told me I was incomparable, and he could make me a star. Tried to get me to have dinner with him to discuss it more. I played it off like the real place I had an interview at had called to check on where I’d gone to. They weren’t happy that I bolted, but I was no longer interested in Vidal or Collins. I was onto something bigger.”

I scrub my face with my palm, overcome with nerves. A conversation needs to happen with my brother and me, but first I’m going to have to do some digging on my own. When I start to stand, Stormy grabs my hand.

“Where are you going?” Her voice is shrill and panicked, making my dogs whine in response. “Don’t leave me with them.”

Stormy has done nothing but create a shitstorm in my life and the bitch has me feeling sorry for her ass.

“You’re going to have to learn to get along with them,” I rumble. “They’re good dogs. Protective. Why are you so terrified?”

Her grip tightens around my hand. “I…” She huffs. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like dogs.”

“Stop bullshitting me,” I bite out. “Did you get bit when you were a kid?”

“Bit?” She scoffs, a tremble wracking her body. “You make this fear seem trivial and unwarranted.”

“What then? You’re clearly traumatized as fuck. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re talking about you, not me.”

“You have three seconds to tell me or I’m leaving your ass here with them.”

“I watched three pit bulls maul my mother to death when I was ten years old and there was nothing I could do about it because the twins were toddlers. I had to get them out of therebefore the dogs got to us too.” She angrily swipes at her tears. “You fucking happy now, Copper?”

I sit back down beside her. “You really do see us as monsters. It’s like you weren’t even there all those months hanging out with us and having fun. Like you forgot the good times.”

She stiffens, unable to meet my stare.

“No, I’m not happy your poor mother was killed by dogs. That’s fucking horrible.” Since she’s still holding my hand, I squeeze it. “Were the dogs put down?”

“No,” she snarls, “because they belonged tohim. Her meth dealing boyfriend. The cops couldn’t keep the drugs out of our town, so they sure as hell weren’t worried about a few dogs. If the Feds had done their job when I was a little girl and taken down the web of dealers in Montgomery back then, I wouldn’t have had to see my mother die in a bloody, tragic way. Too many people dropped the ball that ultimately led to her death.”

I whistle for my dogs and they jump to their feet. Stormy curls against me, a terrified moan rasping from her.

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