Page 168 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“What the fuck was Dragon doing there anyway?” Filter asks from the back seat.

“You know how he is,” Koyn grumbles. “A fuckin’ vigilante. Like Batman. But the dumbass forgot that Batman always gets his ass kicked. He should have picked Thor or fucking Spiderman.”

His joke would be funny under normal circumstances, but right now, I’m seconds from losing my shit. If they hurt Stormy, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.

“Why didn’t they take Katana too?” Payne asks.

Koyn sucks in a sharp breath. “He’s hurt.”

“Hurt?” I bark out, cutting my eyes to him. “How?”

“I don’t know. He was wheezing. Sounded pretty bad.” Koyn pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I think they left him for dead.”

The truck goes silent after that. I do ninety-five down the expressway, hoping like fuck I don’t get seen by a cop. A trip that usually takes longer is cut nearly in half. When I reach the turn in on my road, dread consumes me.

I won’t be going home to see my girl cooking.

Stormy isn’t there.

They fucking took her.

As soon as I pull up in front of the house and my dogs don’t meet me barking, I get a sick twist in my gut, especially considering the door is standing wide-open.

I climb out of the truck, sucking in deep breaths, trying to steady myself for what I’ll find.

“You two look for Katana,” Koyn instructs Filter and Payne. “Copper and I need to check on these two guys.”

I’m rigid as I walk over to the vehicle of the two guys Dan sent. They’ve been shot. In the fucking heads. Jesus. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow down the urge to vomit. These vile motherfuckers have my girl.

“They…” I choke on my words. “If they killed my dogs…”

Koyn gives me a nod, his face filled with pity. “Let me look first. Stay out here and call Dan.”

My hands shake as I make the call to Dan. The more eyes and hands we have on this, the better, especially now since Stormyis gone. I’ve barely ended the call when Koyn motions for me to enter the house.

I follow him through, noting the signs of struggle. The storm closet door standing open. The Glock I gave Stormy on the floor. A bullet through the wall. She tried. My fucking girl tried. Koyn walks out back. Both dogs are sitting next to Katana, who’s propped up against a tree. Filter is squatted in front of him.

Hansel whines when he sees me. Gretel doesn’t lift her head from Katana’s lap. As soon as I approach, my stomach twists violently. All three of them are hurt.

“Hey, boy,” I grunt as I kneel to check Hansel for injuries. The side of his neck is wet with blood where a bullet grazed him. He whimpers when I touch it. Not deep, but it’ll need stitches. “How’s our girl, Gretel?”

Gretel sniffles but doesn’t move. It’s then I see Katana’s hand holding her side, covered in blood. Katana is bleeding from several holes in his abdomen.

“Fuck,” I hiss out.

Payne arrives with my first aid kit and yanks it open. He and Filter start assisting Katana, who won’t take his hand off my dog. I finally snap out of it, grabbing some gauze.

“Thanks, buddy,” I tell Katana. “I’ve got her now.”

As soon as I pull his hand from her side, blood seeps out. Quickly, I cover the wound. I’ll need to get both dogs to the vet immediately.

“Dad!” Blake calls out. He skids to a stop beside me. “They shot our dogs?! Those fuckers!”

I don’t stop to revel in the fact my son called me Dad. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him call me anything but Copper.

“We have to get them to Dr. Sanchez.” I scoop Gretel up, my heart breaking when she whines. “It’s okay, girl. We’re going to fix you.”

I carry Gretel to Bermuda’s truck. His face is white and he looks seconds from puking. I know how much he cares about Stormy, so I know he’s fucked-up over this like I am.

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