Page 30 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“Who is it?” I croak out.

“Stormy Jean.”

The blond club whore who was eyeing me like I was an alien. No, thank you.

“I’m not allowed to have visitors,” I lie.

She snorts. “And I’m probably not allowed to visit, but here we are. Put your panties on. I’m coming in.”

I roll my eyes because I’m still dressed in the horrible outfit I borrowed at Animal’s clubhouse. Stormy walks in, a picture of Southern biker babe perfection. She’s beautiful and not quite hardened like most of the club bitches are. There’s a predatory glint in her eyes that I home in on.

“What do you want?” I say not unkindly. “I was napping.” Okay, so that part didn’t come out exactly nice.

She tosses a handful of items onto my bed. “The guys let girls visit, but so far, I’m the only one they allow to stay. This is exciting.”

Yes, because being held prisoner by the man who killed your boyfriend is so very exciting. My chest aches whenever I think of Junior. I try not to let my last memory be of him hitting me or balls deep inside Juicy’s filthy cunt. I try to think about stargazing on the trampoline, heavy make out sessions when we were younger, and long phone calls where he spoke freely without his father’s influence. The good ol’ days.

“I brought you clothes and some shoes. Makeup. Whatever shit they have you wearing doesn’t fit well and looks homeless. If you’re going to be staying at the Man Mansion, then you gotta look hot. There are a ton of hotties to choose from. Except Filter. He’s mine.” She bats her lashes at me and smiles. “Surely you were eyeing one of them? Dragon maybe? You two would make beautiful babies. He’s crazy and I’m talking batshit crazy, but I bet he has a big dick.”

You don’t have confidence and swagger that practically drips from you unless you have the dick to back it up. I have no doubts Dragon is hung.

“Man Mansion, huh?” I’m amused by this. This whole MC is so different than the Roaring River MCs. Like characters out of a comic book.

“That’s my nickname for it. Koyn hates it. He calls it, and I quote,” she says deepening her voice, “‘the compound.’”

The compound.

Man Mansion does sound better.

“Is he always a dick?” I ask, picking up a silky top.

“Always. Without fail.” She grins. “It’s because he lost his wife and daughter. They were murdered.”

I gape at her. “Murdered?”

“Yep. It’s totally hush-hush, but everyone knows. I wouldn’t bring it up if I were you. He gets a crazy look in his eyes sometimes and it scares me far worse than Dragon ever could.”

“Are you in love with Filter?”

My question must catch her off guard because her smile falters and her eyes dart to the side. “Yes. Of course I am. Just gotta convince him I’m good enough to be his old lady.”

I’ve been around Magna long enough to sniff out liars. It’s what he was best at. I had to become the best to outsmart him. Tell my lies and believe them as truths.

“Hmm,” is all I say.

“I could fuck Dragon if I want. And believe me, girl, I want. Just to see what he feels like. To see if he’s as wild in bed as he is in real life. It could be fun.” Her brows knit together. “But I’m not here to have fun. I’m here to be with Filter.”

Stepford wife, much?

And I thought the bitches my dad knows and runs around with were bad.

“They kidnapped me,” I tell her boldly. “Killed my boyfriend and everyone I knew.”

Her gaze darkens. “Did they…touch you?”

No, that was my boyfriend and his dad.

“Not like that. No.”

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