Page 78 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“I bet we would’ve been great friends. Someone like her would have spent the night with someone like me.” She crawls closer, sobbing. “We’d stay up late talking about boys and watching movies. We’d eat M&Ms and drink too much soda. What was her favorite candy?”

I close my eyes.

M&Ms.

Not peanut. Plain.

“Please stop,” I beg, my voice hoarse.

Her palms cover my knees. “Was it M&Ms?”

I nod, refusing to open my eyes.

“Can we get some, Daddy?”

Blaire. Blaire. Blaire.

I remember looking over at her in the passenger seat as she happily ate her candy and rambled on about her school day. Blaire wanted to be an artist. Drew all over everything with pencils and sharpies. Hearts and flowers and doodles. She’d pour a bunch of M&Ms on the table and absently eat them while she would sketch.

“I’m scared, Daddy.”

Oh, fuck.

“Please help me, Daddy.”

Deep in the recesses of my mind, I know it’s not Blaire begging for help, but try telling my heart that. I pull my girl into my arms and cradle her to me. Her hair is greasy and dirty. Another man’s cum—fucking Putnam—remains on her thighs. She stinks of body odor and vomit. Fuck, she’s so skinny. And cold.

“Daddy,” she sobs. “I’m cold and scared and hungry.”

“Shhh,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “I’ve got you now. I’m going to take care of you.”

Not Blaire. Not Blaire. Not Blaire.

Everything is murky and confusing. Maybe it’s due to the Jack or maybe it’s the huge crack splintering right down the center of my mind. All I know is the girl in my arms needs to be taken care of. She needs me.

“I’m going to make everything okay,” I vow, kissing her dirty strands of hair. “I promise, baby girl.”

“I know, Daddy.”

Everything spins when I stand with her in my arms. Her legs go around my waist and her arms hook around my neck. She clings to me like a toddler would. It makes my heart fucking bleed. I yank up the blanket from the mattress and wrap it around her. As we walk out of the slaughterhouse, I hug her tight and try my damnedest to keep her warm. The trek back to the house is cold and windy.

The moment I fling open the back door, voices hush to silence. My hackles are raised and I’m ready to fight any motherfucker who stands in my way.

“Bermuda,” I bark out. “Make my girl some food and bring it to my room.”

“What the fuck,” Dragon rumbles.

I shoot him a scathing glare that has him rising and cracking his neck. Katana stands, placing his body in front of him.

“Prez,” Filter starts, but I stop him with a shake of my head.

“She needs to eat and bathe and be warmed the fuck up,” I explain, my words coming out choppy and angry. “Who the fuck wants to argue with me?”

Filter and Halo exchange a look and then Filter holds his hands up in surrender.

“Do what you gotta do, Prez. We got your back,” Filter assures me.

Some of the guys mutter angrily, but I ignore them all. I carry her up to my room and into the bathroom. With her still clinging to me, I start a hot bath. She whimpers when I try to peel her away from me.

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