Page 5 of Outlaws of Tulsa

The back door slams and then I hear the distinct sound of a motorcycle revving.

I should be dead.

With them.

My eyes land on my girls and a ragged sob escapes me. I need to hold them. I need to fucking hold them. With hot tears in my eyes, I back up and gently relieve my daughter of the knife in her neck. It takes some difficult maneuvering and I gouge the knife into my arms several times, but I eventually cut through the rope. As soon as I’m free, I yank off the tape and then cradle my girls. I pull them into my arms, squeezing them tight as I scream until I’m hoarse.

I scream and scream and scream.

And when their bodies feel cold, I dig my hand into my slacks pocket. With shaky fingers, I call the only person I have left.

“If you changed your mind about Thanksgiving—”

And I scream again.

Koyn

Present…

Goddammit, this kid is going to be the death of me.

“Sorry, Prez,” Nees grumbles as he picks up his wrench from the garage floor and darts his eyes to the dent on the fuel tank.

I swear to fuck, Copper better come get this klutzy motherfucker before I cut his hands off and feed them to him. His eyes widen and he takes a step back, nearly knocking my 2020 vivid black Sport Glide Harley over. A growl of warning rumbles through me.

“Yo, Prospect,” Filter says, strutting over to us from his own bike. “Why don’t you go grab a water and take a break? You look about ready to shit yourself. And if you knock over Prez’s bike, you’re going to be shitting through about forty hollow-point holes in your ass.”

Nees hands the wrench to Filter and scrambles away mumbling apologies.

“I’m going to drown him in Keystone Lake,” I warn, my voice rough and annoyed.

Filter laughs as he drops the wrench on the work table with a clang. “Your brother will be pissed if you drown his son.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Get over what?” Dragon asks, looking all too fucking chipper today, grinning like a fool.

“Me killing Nees.”

Dragon’s green eyes light up with violence, his large green and black dragon tattoo on his neck moving like it’s alive. “Oooh, goodie. Can I help?”

Filter shoves him. “Go blow up shit elsewhere. I’m trying to dismantle the bomb at the moment.”

Me.

I’m the bomb.

Always ticking.

If it weren’t for my VP, Filter, I would’ve blown up the whole goddamn world years ago. Filter keeps me grounded and focused. Mostly. I’m always teetering on the line of losing my fucking mind and going nuclear. He keeps me from doing either.

“You always spoil my fun.” Dragon pouts like the girl he is.

Filter laughs. “Get out of here, dickhead. We’ll see you at Church.”

“Why does he smell so…” I trail off, looking for the right word.

“Gay?”

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