Dwight walked up the steps, the King of Tulsa claiming his first acre. The city was flat, hot, and strange, but by the time he was done, the wind wouldn't just be sweeping down the plain—it would be whispering his name.

Dwight smiled, a shark-like grin that never reached his eyes. "I’m not a city slicker. I’m a businessman who’s been out of circulation. I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, and your boss has a very efficient logistics network."

"I'm looking for Bull," Dwight said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that commanded the air around him.

As they pulled up, three men with shotguns stepped off the porch. Dwight didn't flinch. He stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching under his boots, and adjusted his cuffs.

Dwight straightened his silk tie. "Tyson, human nature is the same from Brooklyn to Timbuktu. Everyone wants what they can’t have, and everyone is afraid of losing what they’ve got. I’m just here to manage that anxiety."