Page 92 of Outlaws of Tulsa

Second by slow second the shooting stops as my men find their targets.

“I sent Hadley to the kitchen to eat,” I say into the phone that’s still pressed to my ear. “Might as well just turn the fuck around and go home at this point because after that stunt, she’s dead.”

“You really must think I’m stupid,” Genworth says with a cruel laugh. “That I wouldn’t have already sent someone in to get my kid the second you fuck faces came out?”

I dart my head to the right, finding Filter. He nods and holds up two fingers—our signal that Putnam was the one to take her.

“Are you at the rendezvous point?” I taunt. “Are you in the clear? Ready to run off with allmy fucking moneywithmy fucking prize?”

“You know I’m not leaving until I watch him gut you—ahh!”

The line goes dead.

“We got disconnected,” I deadpan to Filter. “Let’s get to the slaughterhouse. Time for a pig roast.”

I love to hear the squeals of my enemies.

Seeing Marron Genworth and Randall “Magna” Putnam tied to chairs, side by side, in my building is the most gratifying experience in my entire life. The moment I’ve waited on for ten long years. The beginning of the end.

But seeing Genworth’s little girl sitting on the mattress in front of the fireplace with her knees drawn up and a haunted look on her face is not gratifying at all. It’s fucking disturbing. Twisted and wrong. Something I don’t want to see.

I look away.

Focus.

As I approach, I notice Dragon’s already been fucking with Putnam. Putnam has the word RAPIST PIG cut into his forehead in impressively neat handwriting. Dragon is a master with a blade.

That’s for what you did to my girls, asshole.

I scan the room and find all my guys watching and waiting, some in the shadowed parts of the slaughterhouse and others in plain view. They want this every bit as much as I do. It makes me wonder what the fuck Church will be like without spending half the meeting contemplating revenge. I can’t even begin to imagine a life of peace.

So I don’t.

My life is war. It has been for a decade. A war I will win in the end.

Gibson hums something that sounds oddly like “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult. It’s an appropriate song.Genworth and Putnam don’t need to fear the reaper. They need to fear me.

Putnam garbles out something, but from behind the strip of duct tape, it makes no sense.

“What’s that?” I ask as I bypass him to walk over to Hadley. She doesn’t flinch when I reach out and stroke her hair. I flit my gaze over to Genworth. His eyes blaze with fury, zeroed in on the way I touch her. No father wants to watch his daughter get defiled. “You know,” I say to Genworth. “I’ve spent a long time contemplating this moment. Killing the people responsible for taking my family away from me. I’ve imagined everything from a quick slit of your throat to more creative ways for you to die like carving out each of your organs one by one and feeding them to you until you fucking choke to death on them.”

“Gross,” Hadley mutters.

“I thought about making Dragon wreck your asshole, Putnam,” I growl, pinning him with a hard glare. “This isn’t business.” I mimic his words from the past. “This is personal.”

Dragon makes a salacious gesture of grabbing his dick through his dark jeans. Someone snorts out a laugh from the shadows. Probably Katana.

Putnam doesn’t seem fearful of the prospect of having Dragon sodomize him, just pissed. Well, fuck him. This is my show and he has to stay until the end. He’ll endure whatever fucked up plans I have for him.

“Do you miss him?” I ask Hadley as I point at Putnam.

She turns her head up to look at me, hate shining in her eyes. “No.”

“But you fucked your dead boyfriend’s daddy, didn’t you, Pageant Girl?”

Hadley shakes her head, tears leaking down her pretty, angelic face. A tide of anger begins rising around me, threatening to drown me at any moment.

“Are you lying, sweet girl?”

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