Page 185 of Outlaws of Tulsa

Bam! Bam!

I crawl through the broken hotel room window after crossing a courtyard from another room. She’s nowhere to be found. The gunfire makes me think one of my guys needs assistance. As soon I cross the room, I see two arms stretched out, aiming weapons at each other. Since one of them is feminine, I don’t dare shoot that person, but as I near the two, I realize the other person is familiar.

Fuck.

Stormy and Filter, facing off with guns pointing at each other.

“Don’t do this,” I beg to Filter. “Please.”

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

My heart shatters into a million pieces until I realize neither one of them has gone down. They slowly walk past each other, continuing to shoot. I peek out the door and realize they’re covering for each other. Joining them, I help pick off the few guys at one end. As soon as the hallway goes quiet, I loop an arm around Stormy’s waist and haul her to me.

Fiery blue eyes meet mine but then soften when she sees me, quickly filling with tears. Her face is badly cut and she’s filthy. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful because she’s alive. She’s fucking alive.

I crash my lips to hers, not even gentle of her wounds, just desperate to make sure she’s real and not some ghost meantto taunt me. Her salty tears join our kiss, giving this reality a familiar taste. A groan of relief escapes her as I kiss the fire out of her.

“You’re alive,” I mumble, pecking kisses over her cracked and dried lips.

“Not for long if you two keep making out in the hallway,” Filter grumbles. “This way.”

I want to drag Stormy into my arms and never let go, but she pulls away to steal two new guns from one of the dead men. My girl is a fighter. She’s no damsel. Filter’s right. I can worship her properly when we’re safe and alone. Now is not the time or we’ll never make it out of here.

“Where’s everyone else?” I ask as we stealthily make our way down the hallway.

“Dragon got them out, I think. I hope. We need to find them.” Stormy looks over her shoulder at me, giving me a watery smile.

I’m going to have words with Dragon as soon as this shit blows over.

“Stop,” Filter grunts. “Did you hear that?”

Sobbing. Calls for help.

Stormy turns toward a hotel room door and starts unengaging bolt locks. Once it’s open, she pushes inside. Fucking fearless, this woman.

Several battered and clearly traumatized people huddle together in one corner of the room. They all look just as fucked up as Stormy.

“Come on,” she hisses. “Stay quiet. We’re going to get you to safety.”

After eight shivering people make their way into the hallway, we set on our journey again. This time, Stormy begins checking each door. Not every room has captives, but some do. It’s enough that we’ve gathered about eighteen people, some of which who have to be practically carried by the other captives.

“Behind you,” Blake calls out. “Don’t shoot.”

I swivel around to find Blake, Gibson, and Bizzy making their way down the hallway with a few captives trailing with them.

“Everyone back that way has been killed and the rooms have been checked,” my son says, no longer sounding like a kid, but a fucking man instead. “The others have spread out on other hallways. We think we got most of them.”

After canvassing another couple of hallways, we also run into Halo, Payne, and some of the Little Rock guys. Eventually, we make our way back outside. People are everywhere, but it’s all our people and captives. Those trafficking motherfuckers are gone.

Koyn jumps up onto a vehicle and whistles, gaining everyone’s attention as they crowd around. Jameson’s woman—the same one who helped Katana—has arrived in a van, already seeing to the victims who are in the worst shape. I’m thankful as fuck it’s not my girl needing care.

“Brenda,” a soft, broken masculine voice calls out, before a young mirrored version of Calla nearly tackles her. “I’m so sorry.”

She hugs her brother, whispering assurances. “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re all okay. I love you, Cove. You’re safe now.”

Calla clings to them and my heart aches for what they went through. I’m thankful they’re safe and back together. Filter watches them with an unreadable expression. As long as it’s not hate, I can deal with that.

“We took out most of these motherfuckers,” Koyn calls out. “A few escaped, but we’ll get them. Mark my words. The important thing is, we’ve found the captives and they’ll be safe now.”

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