Page 149 of Outlaws of Tulsa

My brother.

“Yeah,” he grunts in greeting, his voice breathless like the old man was just fucking his life away.

“I have a name on him.”

“No shit?”

“Put your dick away. We need to talk.”

“Sorry, beautiful. You can suck my dick later. Important shit to deal with.”

I roll my eyes, but inside I’m happy for him. He grieved and agonized for so goddamn long, it’s good to see him finally at peace. A few minutes later, he mumbles that he’s in his office.

“Chase Everett Thomas. I’m thinking he was around eighteen when you ran into him at that bar in Arkansas,” I blurt out. “There’s a missing person report on him when he was sixteen. I stumbled upon this while working a big-ass trafficking case that dates back to around this time. I think it’s got Vidal and Collins written all over it.”

“Fuck.” The sounds of his fingers tapping away on his keyboard can be heard. “Dad’s a doctor there in Memphis. Mom is a fuckin’ life coach who travels giving speeches. Hot as hell too. Three brothers who look just like him—athletic and smart and happy. There’s no way a kid like him would have left this life.” He taps away some more. “Kid drove a goddamn beamer.”

“They took him,” I agree. “Probably similar to how they took Erin and how they planned to take Stormy.” My gut twists atthe thought of her accidentally getting herself stuck with them instead of the Royal Bastards. “And now they’re looking for him, man.”

“They’re not looking,” Koyn growls. “They’ve already found him. They’re biding their time. Watching us. Fuck.”

He’s right. Stormy found this file a year ago. They already called up at my work to fuck with us. If they know Koyn and me, then they’ve already uncovered who all is patched in under him. All it would take is catching a glimpse of Dragon and they’d know. He has an unforgettable face—the kind that should be splashed across tabloids or a face strutting down the runway in Milan or some shit. Point is, Dragon is a good-looking dude who stands out like a sore fucking thumb.

“What do we do?” I scrub my palm over my face. “We’re always two steps ahead of everyone, but I feel like these fuckers are ghosts.”

“They are,” Koyn bites out. “I already picked apart what we know on them. Collins no longer offices in Tulsa. He ghosted out of there right after Stormy showed up. Vidal pops up on the radar in different cities, but then he disappears. They’ve got their shit under aliases I still need to uncover.”

My hands are tied at what I have access to here at work. The criminals don’t do shit the right way, so we only have information of those who have been caught or talked or from our own recon missions. But, at this point, Vidal and Collins are nothing of interest in the system.

“Let me make some calls,” Koyn says finally. “Jameson, the prez in New Orleans with the Royal Bastards National chapter, might know some shit. Same with Animal. Arkansas is close enough to Tennessee they might have some bleed off from this. I’ve also got a Royal Bastards guy out west. King’s in Santa Clarita, California. Might not get his surly ass out here, but he’s knowledgeable. His chapter goes after the wealthy traffickers ofthe victims. He might know some shit and if he doesn’t, he’ll be down to help.”

“And when we locate these motherfuckers?”

Koyn chuckles, dark and deep. “Then we call Loki.”

“God of Mischief?”

“No, dumbass, God of Torture. Otherwise known as prez of the Royal Bastards Reno, Nevada chapter.”

“All right then. Let’s do this.”

“Three steps ahead of you, brother. Three steps ahead.”

I’m eager as hell to get home to my woman. If she’s still there. Doubt clouds around me like a fog, thick and unyielding. I have no other option but to trust Stormy. If she leaves and fucks me over, I’ll deal with that shit then. I can’t worry over what hasn’t happened, though.

Grabbing my file, I climb out of my truck and head inside. The dogs are outside acting like heathens in the woods, chasing whatever it is that’s pissed them off today, so when I walk into my house, I’m met with silence. Unease settles in my gut. She’s probably napping. My eyes skim around the front room and I’m surprised to see Stormy has cleaned. The house smells like mop cleaner. I could kiss her for how shiny my floors are right now.

“Hey, baby, I’m home,” I call out. “I really want to fuck you on these clean floors. Where the hell are you, woman?”

Silence.

She wouldn’t clean the house and bail. That’s fucking stupid. Still, I’m unnerved when I don’t find her in the kitchen or my bedroom. Her bedroom got emptied over the weekend as I moved her clothes and shit into mine, but she’s not in thereeither. I’m just headed to check the gym downstairs when I stop off at my office. Turning the knob, I push inside.

Sitting at my desk like she owns the place, Stormy is deep in thought, my giant pair of headphones pulled over her ears as she nods to the music she’s listening to on the computer. Papers are strewn out all over the desk where she’s been making notes about something. She’s a different person than the one I left, who was just fucked and only wearing my T-shirt. Now, she’s hot as fuck in a tight white T-shirt that reveals her pointy nipples and some yoga pants. Her long blond hair has been smoothed straight and hangs over her shoulders in shiny tresses I want to tangle my fingers in. It’s clear she dolled herself up for me because her face is made up with a shit ton of makeup. Even though I prefer her fresh-faced, I can’t deny how hard my dick gets when I know she did all this for me.

I sneak back out of the office to take a quick shower to wash the day’s grime off me. My dick has remained at half-mast since I saw her looking so fucking beautiful sitting at my desk. Quickly, I rush out of the shower, a towel loosely tied around my waist, eager to get back to her. I’m about to exit the bathroom when Stormy rounds the corner.

“Weren’t even going to come say hi, huh?” Her blue eyes glitter, but her mouth is pouty.

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