Page 104 of Outlaws of Tulsa

Just seventeen when they brutalized that little girl.

And now he has them, one dead and cooking in the fire. The other, his ol’ lady is helping him get the vengeance he deserves.

Everyone is here, witnessing this shit. It’s what we’ve all been working so hard to achieve. Marron Genworth and his minion, Randall Putnam, have finally been brought to justice. The good ol’ biker way.

Knives and lots of blood.

My phone buzzes again. I read the notification.

Koynakov.

I swipe open my phone and go to the app Koyn created. It’s meant to sniff down any mention of our last name and ping it to us rather than reach its intended destination. My brother is a fucking genius with computers. His program makes us untouchable. Even me—corrupt Fed.

The information bouncing in isn’t via email. It’s a text from the mole. Whoever the fuck has been snooping within our ranks. I’m confused, though, because everyone’s here and no one’s attention is on their phone.

Unknown Number: I’m outside of the location. Where the fuck are you? Jared Koynakov has Hadley! I need backup!

Unknown Number: DO YOU WANT KOYNAKOV TO KILL HER?!

Unknown Number: We can get both the Koynakov brothers at once, but you need to get here now!

Two texts roll in stating they’re on their way. That they could lose their jobs for this.

Fuck.

I stalk along the shadows, slipping out of the open slaughterhouse building door. It’s snowing and cold as fuck. I trudge as quietly as I can through the snow, withdrawing my .45 from my holster. I creep across the backyard toward the house. By the time I reach it, I hear voices. As stealthily as possible, I ease around the house.

“About fucking time,” a familiar voice hisses. “He has her in there and God only knows what the fuck he’ll do to her this time.”

“Brenda,” a guy grumbles. “We shouldn’t even be here. We’re not Feds.”

“You’re cops, Brad, and that’s close enough.”

I know that voice.

Fucking Stormy.

“We could get fired,” the other woman says. “We don’t have a warrant—”

“He’s in there as we speak, probably fucking raping her, Denise! Does that not warrant action?” Stormy practically yells. “Let’s go.”

I watch, dumbfounded as Stormy charges toward the slaughterhouse, her cop buddies in tow. I’m silent as I stalk them from behind.

“I’ll finally nail their asses. Johnson will have to bring me back because I was fucking right,” Stormy snarls.

“You’re on leave,” Brad starts, but Stormy snaps at him.

“We fucked, Brad, and now you think you know me? Know everything? You don’t know shit. These men are dangerous. They’re terrifying. If I sit around waiting for cops to get their thumbs out of their asses or Johnson to do his fucking job, then Hadley dies. That’s it. Now shut up and back me up.”

The three of them quiet down as they approach the slaughterhouse door. I’m right behind them, waiting them out. I don’t know what this dumbass trio thinks they’re going to accomplish. My brother has already destroyed one of the rats on the chopping block and the other is as good as dead. Stormy and these shady-ass cops can’t stop what’s been set into motion. It’s done.

And she sure as fuck isn’t taking Hadley away from Koyn.

I know my brother. He’s never letting that girl go.

Stormy is fucking herself in the worst way right now.

The dumb bitch, though, has no fear. She trudges forward through the snow, into the slaughterhouse, her weapon drawn. The pussy cops follow behind her like they’re a match for the Royal Fucking Bastards.

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