Page 236 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“Are you done?” Koyn grunts. “Because we have shit to discuss and whatever this is”—he waves a dismissive hand between the two of us—“will have to wait until the next Q. This is Church, not social hour.”

I give Koyn a clipped nod, mortified about this whole shitshow. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Because I want an update on what you guys found out last night. Katana insists on letting Dragon tell the story.” Koyn leans back in his chair, the leather creaking with the movement. “This should be interesting.”

Dragon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s so close, I can smell his smoky scent. I hate how I want to turn my head and bury my nose against his neck.

“Max is dead,” Dragon deadpans.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Koyn barks back. “Elaborate.”

“He was wearing more of Max than Max was wearing of Max,” Nees offers with a full-bodied shudder. “Fucking sick, man.”

“Body?” Copper demands, his voice sharp with authority.

“Incinerated,” Katana offers. “Nothing but ash.”

Copper gives him a nod of approval. Being an ex-Fed, he makes sure we cover our asses anytime we do something illegal like torture, mutilate, and murder a loser like Max.

“What happened before you burned his body?” Koyn asks, irritation clawing at his tone.

“I stabbed him.” Dragon chuckles, low and sinister. “A lot.”

Koyn scrubs a palm over his scarred face and shakes his head. “Right. And what did you find out?”

Dragon’s attention is no longer on the conversation but instead fixated on my neck. He reaches up to touch one of the hickeys. I hiss at him, smacking his hand away.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Koyn snaps. “What the fuck happened?”

“Max was meeting up with Night Giant,” I blurt out, annoyed that neither Katana nor Dragon seem to be ready to tell the story any time this century.

The room goes silent.

“I see,” Koyn mutters. “Explains the horror show aftermath Nees saw. Anything else of use?”

“Not really.” I let out a huff. “Someone killed him before we could get anything helpful from him. All we know is he was headed to Memphis but—”

“Night Giant is in Arkansas,” Dragon bites out, his words so vicious, I flinch. “Having the time of his fucking life.”

“He’s hiding out in a janky-ass trailer,” Koyn spits back. “Not exactly the Ritz Carlton.”

“But he’s alive…” Dragon’s entire body thrums with violent energy. I have the urge to put my hand on his thigh to calm him down. Instead, I fist it in my lap. “Alive and breathing. Two things he doesn’t deserve.”

“I understand what you want—”

Koyn’s words are cut off when Dragon slams a fist down on the conference table with enough force coffee splashes out of Payne’s steaming mug, causing him to curse in annoyance. Koynarches a brow and crosses his arms over his massive chest. He nods at Dragon, waiting for him to continue.

“His time is up, Prez. I’m going to kill him.”

Koyn studies Dragon for a long beat before letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine. But you’re not doing this alone. We’ll figure out a plan and do it together. Understood?”

Dragon huffs but doesn’t argue.

“Right,” Koyn continues. “Now that we have psycho torture checked off on our daily agenda, let’s move the fuck along.”

Dragon

Now that Prez has moved on to other matters of club business and Bermuda babbles about finances, I refocus my attention back on Cove. The bruises all over his neck visible for all to see make my blood run hot in my veins, unable to focus on anything else.

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