Page 117 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“The Royal Bastards are just a biker gang who like to work on Harleys and drink beer,” I say slowly, watching his eyes for any tells that he knows I’m connected with said gang. “Hardly feels worth our time.”

“But it is,” Dan argues. “When I search it in our database, it comes up empty in Tulsa. Nothing. No record of them existing. There are chapters all over and all kinds of shit on them, but nothing in the Tulsa chapter.”

“You want me to dig in and learn more about them?”

He nods. “I know calls like this are often bogus and a distraction, but I wouldn’t feel right about ignoring it. But, since it was just the call and no other information to go off of, I can’t exactly open up an active investigation.”

“If you get me the number, I’ll do what I can to figure out what’s going on.” I go to stand, but he stops me, pointing to his computer.

“Keep this between us,” he says in a near whisper. “I think we might have been hacked.”

The hairs on my arms stand on end. “The FBI has a whole department to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I know,” he grinds out. “Makes me sound like a conspiracy theorist. But watch this.”

He logs into the program and opens a new investigation with Royal Bastards MC Tulsa chapter as the title. After typing in some random information, he saves it. Then, when he goes to look for it, it’s gone.

Because Koyn designed it that way.

Fuck.

“Sounds like a computer glitch. It’s worth looking into, though. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Dan’s features relax. “Thanks, Jeremy.” He smiles at me, no longer stressed from before. “Come out and visit Miranda and the girls. Valerie and her boyfriend have been staying with us, so we’re getting our fill of the new baby.”

I like Dan, but I have too much shit on my plate to come play with his grandbaby.

“I’d like that,” I lie. “Maybe we can go downtown for dinner or something one weekend. I’ll let you know.”

As soon as I leave his office, I’m on the phone to Koyn. He doesn’t pick up, so I leave the office and head out to his compound. I drive along the long dirt road toward Koyn’s and notice Katana sitting up in a deer stand, a rifle pointed right at me. I give him a slight wave and he nods. After Genworth and Putnam last night shooting out half the windows at Koyn’s as we lured them in, everyone seems to be on high alert. I notice Payne in the woods near the house, a rifle in his hands too.

All the windows have been boarded up. Bermuda is outside talking to a couple of guys who are standing near a truck with the logo Robertson Glass Company emblazoned on the side. If I had more time, I’d listen in on whatever story Bermuda is spinning for these guys. Most times, money is enough. When Bermuda hands them a wad of cash, I can tell they’ll do their jobs of replacing the windows without argument.

Inside, Bizzy and Gibson are sweeping up glass. In the conference room where they have Church, Blake is inspecting a hole in the flat screen made by a bullet.

“Nees,” I greet. “How you doing, Son?”

“Copper.” He gives me a stupid little chin lift that used to piss me off when he lived under my roof because it felt disrespectful.

“Where’s Koyn?”

“Office.”

It was hard making the change to call Blake by his road name Koyn gave him. It was even harder every time he’d call me by mine rather than Dad. But, it was either let him join up with the Royal Bastards or watch him ruin his fucking life. My son is a mouthy sonofabitch who typically bucks at authority. I blame Krista for that one. The Royal Bastards allows him to run his fucking mouth, but also learn a little respect. Koyn doesn’t cut him any slack either, even if he is his nephew.

I find my brother in his office chair, pounding away on his keyboard like it personally wronged him. Filter sits across him in a chair and Dragon is leaned up against the wall, hiding in the shadows of the office where the light fixture was damaged and the window is boarded up.

“We have a problem,” I bark out as I enter the room and close the door behind me.

Filter’s glare is murderous as he sweeps it over me. I can see the questions dancing in his stare, clearly wondering how I’vemade Stormy pay, but I ignore them for now. Koyn turns his dark, serious eyes my way, mild annoyance flitting in them.

They’re all pissy over Stormy. I get it. I’m fucking pissy too. But that bullshit has to be shelved for a later date. We have bigger fish to fry.

“Koyn, we need to find out who called from this number. Any and all calls going to my superior or anyone at the FBI for that matter from this phone number need to be rerouted or blocked.” I slap a sticky note down on his desk. “They called and told Dan he should be looking into the Royal Bastards MC Tulsa chapter. Imagine his surprise when he can’t even search or save the name.”

“Fuck,” Filter growls. “Stormy?”

“A man,” I grind out. “If I had to guess, it’s Vidal and Collins.”

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