Page 120 of What Lies Within

Yet it’smylips that curl, splitting to show my teeth when I realize what’s happened.

The one scenario I didn’t account for in my hours of restless pondering.

In his hour of death, Terry will be truly alone. Nobody here who gives a fuck enough to help him.

The one man he trusts with his darkest secrets, the man he takes for granted, has turned.

I open my hand and snatch the pistol from the air to train it at his head.

“Fuck, this feels good.”

47

RAE

"How much longer do we need to wait?" Maddie paces back and forth before the bar, hands on her hips.

Since she woke from her shock, she's made a speedy return to her usual assertive self—almost too fast. It worries me.

“Sit down,” I urge, nudging a bar stool toward her. “You’re making me more nervous than I already am.”

"I can't." She pauses to push the stool back where it belongs and then resumes her movement. "If I stay still, the urge to scream gets stronger." She catches my eye and gives me a small smile. "I need the outlet."

“Fair enough.” I twist the tall glass of juice before me, eying the pale hue of the apple. “When was the last time something like this happened?”

She turns and frowns a little before answering, "You mean before whatjusthappened with us?”

I shrug. "I meant, when was the last time you had to sit around wondering if your dad would come back safe?"

She sighs, relenting and pulling out the stool beside mine.

Digger took Minion into Tyke’s office fifteen minutes ago, and Harvey’s not the only one who’s watched the door like ahawk since. I want to know what they’ll do, how they’ll help him. Yeah, sure—Tyke said he wanted to do this alone when he snuck out before anyone could tail him. I get that. I get why he feels responsible, why he wants to make this judgement day his.

They have a history—him and Terry.

But shit, I want a chance to have a history with Tyke too.

"I can't tell you when I was last this worried about what he does," Maddie relents as she leans over the bar to scrounge for something to drink. "But I can tell you when I wasfirstthis scared for him.” She settles with a half-drunk bottle of gin and plops down on the seat with a grimace. "Remind me tomorrow that I chose to be too lazy to get anything else when I bitch about my hangover, okay?"

“You want me to get you something else?” I smirk.

She shakes her head, cap already off the bottle. “I’m good.” Her face twists as she swallows a gulp of the citrusy liquor. "Anyway. As I was saying, I couldn't have been more than five or six at most. I hadn't started school anyway; still hung out with the rug rats under the old ladies’ feet, ushered out of rooms before the men came in.” She grins wide at the memory. “But Dad had been called out earlier in the morning to help Pa.” She looks my way and explains, “His father. The president at the time.”

I nod, adding mental notes to the club's timeline.

"There was some shit going down—still don't know what it was to this day—and they'd needed backup. I knew it was serious because I'd been outside playing, and when I ran in to wash my hands for snack time, I found my old man strapping weapons to himself."

I offer a gentle smile, imagining her as a bright-eyed, naive child encountering her father like that. To her, it wouldn't have been so unusual growing up in this life. But if I'd done the same at that age, I would have run to hide.

"He rode out with Hammer, who was a prospect then, and a couple of other guys I can't remember the names of anymore." She pauses, studying the bottle's label with her mouth in a grim line. "They were gone for hours, which wasn't unusual, but what was, is the old ladies, my mom included, kept us close and kept us quiet. It was like we stood vigil, bar the burning candles and effigies." She sighs, twisting the cap back on the bottle. "Hammer came back first. He burst into the clubhouse here”—she nods toward the doors as though picturing it in her mind— “dripping blood across the floor. His jeans leg was soaked through, unable to hold more."

“Shit.”

"Yeah. One of the older women patched him up, but that was after two more members sped out the damn gates. Seven patched members and two prospects were on that job that day, and only six and one came back." She smiles, sad and regretful. "It was the first time I realized people died doing what my daddy did.”

I swallow hard and fist the apple juice.

She sets her palm over mine. “I’m not helping, am I?”

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