Page 89 of Outlaws of Tulsa

I tense in his arms, my fingernails digging into the flesh of his forearms. “He’s on his way?” My throat aches as bile creeps up. A wave of dizziness has me sucking in sharp breaths of air. Tears burn and sting my eyes.

“Scared I’ll hurt your precious daddy?” His taunted words are low and menacing.

A tear leaks free and I catch Filter’s somber stare. Quickly, I look away from him and swipe my cheek with my thumb. “No,” I utter, five seconds too late.

“You’re mistaken,” he growls, his fingers brushing along my stomach. “Youshouldbe scared. I won’t go easy on him. I’ll make him fucking pay and then I’ll kill him.”

“I’m not scared you’ll hurt him.” I swallow and look over my shoulder at Koyn. “I’m scared of what he’ll do now. To you. To them.”

Koyn’s eyes narrow to slits as he inspects me, searching for truth in my words. I feel as though he can see right inside my head. Disgust washes over me. Can he see the filthy, dirty parts I hide from everyone? The ones that solely involve my father? My throat tightens as I blink rapidly to rid myself of memories of the past year. Magna may have fucked me like I was his, but I could handle him. It was Dad who tore pieces of my soul away each time he stepped into my bedroom. The wrongness of what he did will haunt me until the day I die.

Which very well could be soon.

Today even.

Will Koyn have any use for me if he manages to kill my father?

Or will I be expendable?

What about our baby?

Feeling a fierce protectiveness ripple through me, I clutch my stomach as though I can somehow protect the tiny life from the horrors in my world. But Koyn’s hand is still there. Still holdingmy stomach like I own a piece of him. My fingers flitter over his skin, unsure if I should link my fingers with his or pull away. His other hand covers mine, making the decision for me.

“A man like your father is a coward,” Koyn states, matter-of-fact. “He’s nothing without his money and his minions. Take away his checkbook and he’ll freak the fuck out. Take away his muscle and he’ll piss his pants.” His thumb strokes over the back of my hand. “Take away what he owns—something he created with his own blood, and it’ll end him.”

If only it were that easy.

Dad is rich and powerful because it’s not easy to take him down. He’s ruthless and cunning. A shark in all aspects of his life. When Mom killed herself, I was left alone in the deep end with the shark.

She was disgusted by pictures she’d found in his study—erotic pictures of me that Junior had taken when I was around fifteen when we’d first started having sex. Pictures Dad was using to pleasure himself with. I’d heard the yelling as I hid behind the stairs. She’d called him every name in the book. Threatened to take me far away from him. Vowed to financially drain him and ruin his reputation.

And the next day she was dead.

Overdose.

She was depressed. At least that’s what Dad told them. Not a word was spoken about his sick compulsions.

Though I don’t have definitive proof, I know my father had a hand in her death. Either he drove her to suicide after what she found out, or he forced her to end her life. All I know is she was gone.

I was all alone.

In the water.

With a shark.

Circling and circling and circling.

Each day, I avoided my father’s predatory stares. Tried not to think about the horrible things I’d overheard. Stayed busy with school and friends and activities.

But I was tired.

Losing Mom and trying to keep my head above water was nearly impossible. I almost drowned. Fell into the depths of my own despair, curling up in my bed for days at a time as I tried to make sense of my life.

And waiting at the bottom for me was a shark.

Him.

My father.

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