Page 73 of Outlaws of Tulsa

The heat blasts from the vents and I’m thankful for the warmth. I’m not sure when I ate last, and I’m feeling sick because of it. Bile rises up inside my throat. A wave of dizziness washes over me. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and breathe through the moment of illness.

I just want to sleep.

I want to wake up to Stormy’s voice or Gibson singing. I want this whole return to my father to have been a horrible nightmare.

Blackness steals over me and I pass out.

Finally.

Warmth.

Soothing scent.

Someone stroking my hair.

Masculine voices are speaking in low tones, but I’m not afraid. I snuggle against the soft person holding me, inhaling the leather of his cut. The familiar expensive cologne. God, I’ve missed him. Absently, he strokes my spine with his thumb. His chest rumbles as he speaks to the other guys. I’m not interested in his words, just him.

Tears of relief flood down my cheeks. I want to cling to his chest forever. It’s the safest I’ve felt in a long time. His thumb runs up my back again and I let out a happy sigh. He halts his movement, stiffening.

“She awake?” Copper asks from up front.

“Yep,” Koyn grunts.

“Oh, goodie,” Dragon says with glee from the front.

Someone is on the other side of me, but I’m too weak to turn and find out.

“What now?” It’s Copper again.

Koyn lets out a sharp breath. “We get to the compound.”

My fingers fist the leather of his cut and I inhale his unique scent. Home. He’s going to take me home. To his home. Safe.

“I’m scared,” I croak out, hot tears rolling down my cheeks and soaking into his shirt.

“You’re supposed to be.” Koyn’s words are cold. They feel as cold as Bermuda’s stare earlier. As chilling as Dragon’s touch.

“I don’t want to be,” I whisper only for Koyn to hear.

“We don’t always get what we want.” He follows up his words with a gentle stroke through my tangled hair.

No more words are spoken.

I grow dizzy again and allow sleep to steal me once more.

Warm.

I roll toward the warmth licking at my skin and smile. Finally. Safe. I can feel it. The oppressiveness of my father and Magna is gone. I feel free. Weak, but free.

Cracking open an eye, I attempt to make sense of my surroundings. The fire in front of me blazes. I’m in front of a fireplace. On the carpet? No, a mattress. At Koyn’s house? I scan the fireplace and realize it’s not the nice stone one inside his home. This one is old and crumbling. I roll onto my back and stare up at the rafters of the dilapidated slaughterhouse.

Why am I here?

I curl my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Still naked but under a blanket. Not tied up to anything from what I can tell. Better situation than Hammer was in last time I visited this place. Still, it’s not right. Koyn came for me. I should be in his bed or on his couch or in his fucking arms.

Sadness washes over me, chasing away the numbness. The fire is hot and crackling, but the air in the slaughterhouse isbone-chilling. I sense another person with me and I wonder if it’s Koyn. Will he tell me what the hell is going on?

I try to sit up, but the room spins. So dizzy. So weak.

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