Page 119 of What Lies Within

"I ain't castin' stones. I'm painting a fucking timeline." I know I've done terrible shit. The difference is I neverwantedto do it. I’ve killed, maimed, and manipulated to keep those I love safe. I’ve acted out of self-defense.

Terry acts out of boredom. Ego. Some need to prove himself to people who don't even look.

Like a kid stealing his first candy bar, he does it solely to test himself.

To see if hecan.

"I should have stepped in," I say, returning to my teenage sweetheart. "Monica weren't mine anymore, sure. But she weren't yours, either."

He tips his head a little, jaw hardening. “She was happy with what I gave her until it came time to pay back what she owed,” he spits. “Flowers, jewelry, dinner—she’d take it all, and for what? Fucking prude took a month before she let me kiss her.”

"That's your goddamn problem, Terry," I exclaim. The bass of my words echoes off the hillside. "Women don'toweyou for the things youchooseto give them. Love isn’t a foregone transaction. You’re not guaranteed a return.”

“Who said I loved her?” he says matter of fact.

“Sexisn’t a guaranteed return on investment, then. Fuck.” I scrub a hand over my head. “Why do I feel as though I’m talking to a goddamn child?”

He stops walking.

My heart rate picks up. Ronan is too close.This won’t work.I let emotion get the better of me, and now I’ve fucked it up.

"A child?" Terry nods as he speaks. "You come here," he hollers, pitch rising with each word. "ToMYhouse, and goddamn insult me by calling me a child?”

There it is.There’s the crazy motherfucker.

"If you wanted to lament to me about your fucking broken heart over something that happenedtwenty years ago, then you could have written me a fucking letter, Tyke. Put little puffy heart stickers over it and doodled flowers in the corner.” His hands wave around in a flourish as he rants. “You’re wasting my goddamn time!”

I check Ronan and find him stoic, hands at his hips, as he watches the pocket rocket of insanity explode.

As fucked as I am having him so close, I have Terry right where I need him. Unhinged. Distracted.

His guard down.

“You’ve been wastin’ yourowntime,” I counter. “I’llnevergive you that lot. I'll wrap the fuckin' title up in so much red tape that it'll take more years than you have left on this God-forsaken earth to bribe your way through the entangled bureaucracy."

"Then I'll take it from you by force." He takes a firm step forward, tilting his head back a little to maintain eye contact as he drops his voice to a menacing baritone. “I’ll fuck your daughter, use my goddamn fist to rape your old lady, and make your sons watch before I cut off their fucking dicks.”

“Careful,” I seethe, skin tingling with a rush of adrenalin. “Don’t want us knowin’allyour twisted fetishes.”

He bares his teeth, then shoots an arm toward Ronan, hand wide open as though expecting to receive.

I glance at his right-hand man and find the Irish Midnight with a Glock clutched in his fist. He tips his head back, swinging the gun a little in preparation, and drawls, “Head’s up.”

Terry moves back, grinning maniacally as he prepares to catch the weapon that spells my fate.

Out here. In the valley. Where nobody can hear a goddamn thing.

I assess my surroundings, my stomach sinking at the sick realization that I have no viable options. The drop-off beyond Terry is steep. I could shunt him toward it, yet he's likely to recover his footing with the width of the track here. Even if he didn't, there are far too many trees on the sharp decline; he could grapple his way back up.

Going right means past Ronan and into the line of fire.

Left is toward the bend, also in line of fire.

The only option is to drop, strafe, and hope like fuck I can reach my concealed boot knife in time to brawl my way through this.

The gun’s airborne, arcing toward our standoff.

Terry’s smile widens, and he tilts his head to receive the incoming weapon.

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