Tulsa King

Manfredi, right?

-You know me? -Now, what's stopping me

from shutting that distillery down again?

I'm gonna make you an offer.

Dunmire, who's willing to pay

three times the amount.

Do you know something that we don't know?

Bit of a legend in these parts.

My dad's 50-year.

Dunmire suspected it existed,

just didn't know where it was stashed.

50-year-old bourbon?

Big money.

150 million, to be exact.

Dunmire?

He's fucking connected, Dwight.

Dixie fucking Mafia.

It is no joke.

When I call, you need to be ready to move.

Move where?

You'll know where when you need to know where.

So, given your intrusion, I am obligated

to destroy everyone you love.

You're here because

you're scared.

Your empire is in danger, Dunmire.

I'm just getting started.

-Morning. -Morning.

-Everybody here? -Yep.

-Where's Cleo? -She's meeting with a realtor.

The wolves are clawing at the door

left and right for that land, burned house and all.

No, things are heating up, that's for sure.

But we're still in the driver's seat.

We just can't do anything that makes us vulnerable.

Nothing.

'Cause these guys are waiting

for one fucking mistake. One.

So, my advice to you is to keep our eye

on each other, stay close.

And we got to know what the enemy is capable of.

You have to know the enemy.

See, this is just fucked up, man.

Dunmire want to take us all out, one by one.

He took out Montague, jumped Mitch.

And Armand is off the grid.

No, Armand's on his way to the Rockies.

I find him, I'd like to throw him off the Rockies.

So, what we gonna do about Dunmire, huh?

This threat can't go unanswered.

Hey, we're gonna take care of the threat

when we know who we're fighting.

Until then, no. Capisce?

All right, let's focus

on what's in front of us: bottling the 50.

Okay.

Tyson, Grace, care to join me?

-Yeah? -I'm sending you

an address, go to it.

I'll have a car pick you up there.

Look for a white four-door.

You won't miss it.

-It's not a good time, Musso. -What?

Not enough time to find a babysitter

for your adorable gangster squad?

It's called "being on call," Dwight,

so be on fucking call.

You want to keep your crew out of prison?

5220 Hoyt Street, now.

Bigfoot.

I need you to drop me somewhere.

-I got you, boss. -Mm.

-Where you going? -Errand to run.

-Why don't you send Goodie? -Needs a personal touch.

There it is.

I got it from here.

You sure? I can wait.

Call you if I need you.

All right. Let's go.

What the fuck? Hey.

What the fuck?

-Please enjoy the ride. -Enjoy...

Who the fuck is this?

Unlock the fucking door. I'm...

Open the door. Hey!

Would you like to listen to music?

Fuck no!

You've selected Nas.

Nas? Who the fuck is that...

Seriously. God.

I ain't fucking around now. Open the...

Ow, fuck!

My good ear. Goddamn it.

Fuck.

Oh, my God, it's like fucking torture!

How was the ride?

I should put you in a fucking coma.

And then who should I arrest first,

Mitch or Margaret?

Let's move.

Where are we going?

When was the last time you've been to Texas?

Never. What, is this guy Texan?

Transplant.

This fucker. No code.

Kills women, children, anybody, for a price.

Come on, who does that?

A terrorist.

-So, what do you think? -What do I think?

I think you want me to do your dirty work

so you can keep your under-sized hands clean.

Not accurate, but funny.

See? This little road trip's gonna be team-building.

We're no team, pal.

We'll see.

You're gonna like Texas, though.

Guns, thugs.

You'll fit right in.

This is some bullshit, man.

We should pick a fight with them Dunmire bitches.

Where the fuck... where the fuck is Dwight at, anyway?

You heard what he said. We're biding time.

Man, put that on your tombstone.

Biding time avoids the tombstone.

Smart-ass shit to say every fucking time.

-Damn. -Emphasis on "smart."

The skipper says to obey and execute orders,

so that's exactly what we're gonna do.

He also said, "Know your enemy," so let's get to know them,

so when the boss get back, we got some intel to offer.

Dwight is playing chess, and you're playing checkers.

Don't question it.

I got to be somewhere.

I'm saying yes to fact-finding so we know what we up against.

No time wasted.

Let's go.

How long is this gonna take?

Three hours, if I keep it at 100.

Yeah, right. The FBI run out of jet fuel or something?

Oh, this one's, uh, low-rent, low-profile.

What do you hear from Armand?

Out of the blue.

What do you know about Armand?

I got files on everyone in your crew.

You know, I'll tell you what, why don't you just

concentrate on me and leave my crew out of it?

See anything you like in there?

Sounds to me like you got nothing on Armand.

Interesting.

General's lost one of his soldiers.

You know, for the facts,

he's in Colorado with his family.

You sure about that?

Yeah, I'm sure about that.

You know, he's trying to find a new fucking lease on life.

But the more I fucking think about it,

maybe there's no such thing as a second chance.

-Look at you. -No, look at you.

Second chance, second act, second wind. All the seconds.

-World's your fucking oyster. -Yeah?

Is that what this is about? Huh?

Your second chance?

A vindictive fucking federal agent driving about,

giving orders from your shit-box car,

no backup, half a plan.

What's with this fucking music?

I like that.

You're driving too fast, you know that?

Don't worry about it.

All right, tell me about this guy.

Who am I dealing with here?

Dexter Deacon.

Not his real name. Call him the Watchmaker.

Builds and detonates untraceable devices

for the highest bidder.

Comes off like nothing much, but...

he's a monster.

So, you want me to whack him?

No.

Yeah, you do, but I'm an entrepreneur,

I'm not a fucking assassin.

No, I want you to buy from him.

Bait him, set him up and then...

What? Then I'm-a arrest this asshole?

Why do you need me for this lightweight ordeal?

Call an undercover.

No, you see, he's brilliant, this guy.

Crazy, but smart.

My guys will never pass the sniff test.

You, on the other hand, can just be you.

Did 25 without ratting, now you got deep pockets.

Not everybody runs a successful criminal enterprise.

Hey, I was legit until you pulled me back

-into this shit, Musso. -Define "legit."

The point is, you got enemies...

there's a lot of people want you dead...

so it's not much of a stretch

that you might need Deacon's expertise.