Page 2 of What Lies Within

"Good."

The call went out to gather everyone together forty minutes ago. It wasn't until Tyke brought me back from our shopping trip that the red flags appeared. Maddie hadn't been present at breakfast, which apparently isn't all that uncommon, but Harvey had been trying to get hold of her since, hoping she'd be able to pick up supplies while she was in town.

Three hours passed without a reply before he brought the issue to Tyke.

After fifteen minutes of calls going direct to voicemail and no reported movement on her tracking dot, he declared it an emergency.

I've never seen people come together so fast and so damn coordinated. Everyone knew their role. Everyone knew where to go, who to ask, what to bring. I don't dare ask if it's because they've had to do this before.

"Find out if Volkov's still in town," Tyke barks to Minion, leaning forward in his seat as he does. "Get eyes on Atticus and a position for Terry. I want to know where every motherless asshole in this fuckin' town is." He stands, tapping me on the shoulder as he does. "I've got a call to make, and then we'll reconvene here in ten."

"Who?" Turnip narrows his gaze on Tyke as he makes a move to pass.

The challenge is in the lines around his eyes. He wants to know why Tyke hasn't taken this to the group—why he chooses to make a private call amid the chaos.

"Marco." He glances at Minion, who leans closer for the answer and explains. "Maddie was out with Deo the night we picked up Rae. Maybe the spoiled little fucker knows somethin'."

"Shit." Minion catches sight of his daughter entering from the back hall and lifts a hand to beckon her over. "Let us know what you find out."

"Convene in ten." Tyke turns to look over his shoulder, locating me amongst the masses. "With me, baby girl."

I nod and weave past broad men decked out in leather and black to keep up with Maddie's father's long strides as he heads for the privacy of his office. He waits for me to enter behind him and then shuts the door, reducing the chatter in the main room to a dull hum.

"You okay, baby girl?" His hands find my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones as he searches my gaze. "I know it's worryin', but we know what we're doin'. We'll find her."

Goddamn, this man wants to tear my heart out. "I'm okay. What about you, though?" His daughter is missing, and he's concerned about howIfeel.

"Be better when this shit is over." He pulls away, emotions guarded as he glances away at nothing and then gestures for me to sit. "Give me a minute, yeah?"

"Do whatever you need." I curl myself into the leather cushions—seeking comfort from their soft embrace—and tug my phone for another fruitless check. Still nothing.

Where the fuck are you, Mads?

Tyke settles at his desk with a strained sigh. The chair creaks under his frame as he leans forward to set both elbows on the tabletop, head hung between his large hands. He's silent for a long minute, unmoving before he draws a fortifying breath and straightens to retrieve his phone.

I curl tighter in on myself, realizing that as useless as I've felt in the past, none of it holds a damn candle to how shit I feel now. I don't know anyone to call. At least, nobody useful. Don't have enough knowledge of the people here, or the dark corners of thetown, to know where to look. I'm adrift until somebody gives me a rudder or, at the very least, an anchor.

"Yeah," Tyke barks in response to what I assume is Marco's greeting. "Your boy there?"

I distract myself by studying the pictures on the walls from my position in the middle of the room while Tyke talks with the mafia associate. What appear to be the oldest images show the makings of the club. I count the ten men in the faded print, all proudly standing in front of their machines at what seems to be a roadside stop. There are candids mixed amongst the more formal photos, but the theme continues around the paneled walls—group shots every few years that outline the growing number of members. I can pick the moment the club splits, no doubt branching into the first of the other chapters Maddie told me about; the numbers drop from more than forty tiny figures to around fifteen before slowly increasing again.

Tyke details Maddie's timeline to the guy on the other end of the phone, asking for anything his son—Deo—can add as I slip off the sofa and walk to the most recent image. It's a few years old, looking at the familiar faces in the group. Tyke has shorter hair. Digger's is past his shoulders. I like the look on him. Takes the severe edge off him somewhat. I spot Turnip, Rigs, Minion, Hammer, and who I've learned is Murmur amongst the group. Kane kneels at the front, Harvey awkwardly standing beside him. My chest tightens when I spot Maddie, head turned to grin at her father from her spot front left. It's the man behind her who scowls down at my friend that elicits a shiver down my spine.

Tyke's shadow covers the image, his warm hand coming to my waist a second later.

"Who's this?" I ask, pointing to the unknown member.

He grumbles a little before answering. "My older brother, Fox."

The guy who made Maddie scrub his bathroom as a kid. "You don't get along with him, hey?"

"Not particularly." He moves away from the image and me. "He chose to leave us a few years back. Haven't heard a lot from him since."

I honor the pain in his voice and leave the subject for another time. "Could they help?" I nod toward Tyke's desk, where he took the call.

I never knew who Maddie saw that night—on her date—and I never asked. Another barb sinks into my heart when I realize how careless that must seem to her. Why didn't I ask? Why didn't I even think to?

"He couldn't tell me anything useful, no," Tyke answers. "But you'll meet him soon enough." His slight frown concerns me when he meets my gaze. "I gotta warn you: Marco is slick, baby girl. He'll trick you into spillin' some fuckin' secret you didn't even realize you knew. I want you to stay sharp around him. You get me?"

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