Page 13 of What Lies Within

“You wanna check your attitude, boy?” Tyke squares his shoulders, tucking his phone away in his back jeans pocket.

"Naw," the blond Adonis quips, moving through the shadows to move into the spill of light from the garage. "I'm good." He stops half a foot from Tyke; his head tilted back a fraction to maintain eye contact with the president of the Reapers. "How the fuck did this happen, old man? You got answers?"

“You got a fuckin’ death wish speakin’ to him like that?” Digger interjects, stepping toward the duo. “Where’s your father?”

“Inside. With that gold-digger you dumped at our doorstep.”

He must be…

“You’ll get answers, Deo, when I have them. And only then when I feel you’ve earned them.”

He is.The mysterious Deo—Maddie’s date.

Her fucking stepbrother.

Marco’s son.

Which means, if he’s inside, then the ‘gold-digger’ is…Shit.I take a step back.

Tyke turns his head at the movement. His jaw tics, recognition in the slight furrow of his brow before he extends his arm, offering me his hand.

I find my way to his side on shaky feet, again reminded why I don't fit here. There's a history I'm not privy to, a complex network of relationships and connections that are as ingrained in their daily life as their goddamn DNA.

I’ve never met Tyke’s ex-wife, but given the names they call her, my imagination has done a bang-up job of creating her into some mythical creature of vengeance.

And I’m fucking shit scared that I’ll be the target of that hate the second we step foot through the doors.

Especially if Maddie’s kidnapping has anything to do with Terry.

“You stay where I’ve got eyes on you,” Tyke whispers, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “If they ask you anything you don’t wanna answer, you keep quiet. Got it?”

I nod, gaze seeking Digger's as I do.

Deo stands, arms folded, while he watches the exchange with no shortage of suspicion. "This her?" he asks before redirecting the question to me. "You this Rae girl that Maddie left me to go save?"

My throat feels as dry as cotton. “Yeah.” I nod, fingers crushing Tyke’s with the tight knit of our hands.

His hair may be ash blond, an artificial shade, but Deo's heritage is evident in the strong set of his jaw and the dark eyebrows that add menace to an already critical gaze. He's oddly handsome with intense and overbearing features: sharp cheekbones and a pouty mouth curled at the corners, making him look perpetually amused.

“How long you been here?” Tyke asks Deo, not waiting for the answer before he starts to walk.

I follow along, half a step behind, my hand still firmly grasped in his.

"Ten minutes or so," Deo answers, stepping beside us.

Digger trails behind, a welcome sense of security at my back.

"Father wanted to wait until you had an update, but the witch insisted she be here." He snarls in disdain. "Not that she's any use to anyone."

“Stirrin’ up a storm?” Tyke asks with a hint of humor.

Deo smirks, lazy and lop-sided. “Wouldn’t be right if she didn’t find a way to make this about her.”

Their mutual disrespect for Charlene is curious.

My heart picks up the pace as we near the clubhouse door, the low hum of activity on the other side unsettling. In mere seconds, I'll understand exactly what Tyke's ex thinks of meandour odd arrangement. I take a deep breath as Tyke urges us forward, my lungs fit to burst as my boot strikes the polished concrete of the common area.

The devil in a dark gray suit at the bar catches my attention first. Easily over six feet tall and with a shock of silky black hair, his broad shoulders hide whoever stands beyond as he nurses a drink. He keeps his back to our approaching party, even as everyone around him acknowledges our presence. The casual disrespect in Tyke's house isn't lost on me—this man wants to play games.

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