Page 35 of What Lies Within

"Our caveat is that you comehereto see her," Tyke explains, then turns to Rae. “You're protected, baby girl. He can't harm you if you're on club grounds."

"I'm just another tool in your arsenal, right?" Her jaw grinds, nostrils flaring as she fights the tears. "All this talk about keeping me safe, but it means shit when you need something done, right?"

“Rae…” Tyke reaches for her, yet she’s already backing away.

"How long until you need to use me for what I know, Tyke? Huh? How long until you force me to testify, knowing it'll send me to prison? Knowing it’ll get me killed."

“I’d never.”

“You just said you would,” she utters, low and despondent. “Fuck, Tyke. You. Just. Said it.” Her chin quivers, yet she holds her head high. “I’m safe here because you need what I know in your pocket. Your words, not mine.” Hips swaying, legs eating up the floor, she bolts for the door. The timber panel rebounds off the wall as Rae storms out of the office.

I rise to my feet to go after her, yet the soft chuckle of the fuckhead to my left stalls my feet.

“I goddamn told you. She’s a real fucking handful, that one.”

“Way I see it,” I say, turning to face the asshole with a fist forming at my side. “Is you made her that way.”

“Be easy to explain then, wouldn’t it?” He folds his arms high on his chest—way too comfortable in the goddamn chair for my liking. “Problem is, she was this fucking crazy—always flipping her shit, changing her moods—from the moment I met her.”

“And that’s a problem?”

"'Course it is." The idiot looks to the two of us as though we'll join in on his misogynistic joke. "No wonder you've fucking teamed up to tame her. It'll take the two of you to make it work."He shrugs. "Then again, it’ll work in my favor when you get tired of her. I’ll wait for you to get so desperate to escape her shit that youbegme to take care of it.”

“Like you already did?” Tyke asks, leaning over the guy once more. “Seems you made a right fuckin’ mess of it.”

“She’sa fucking mess,” Connor snarls, twisting to meet my brother’s eye. “Tell me you can’t see it. Tell me you don’t feel it whenever she’s around.”

His words shake me deep inside. Idofeel it. I feel safe with Rae because she doesn't judge me. Because like recognizes like, and that girl? She’s just as broken on the inside as I am.

My gut sours. Who the fuck am I to put my name on her back when all I’ll do is drag her down? I can’t fix the girl. I can’t fix myself.

"Look," Connor says. "I figured I could heal her, okay? Saw that pretty girl just begging to be loved and figured that why the fuck not? Why not take on a project that brings me a fuckload more joy than any of the shit my old man has me do." He leans forward, elbows to knees as he sighs. "So far, all she did is give me more than I could ever give her." He shrugs. "I failed, guys." Eyes on me, he twists his lips, reluctant to show his hand when he stares me straight in the fucking soul, and begs, "If you're gonna take her from me, at least do what I couldn't."

Tyke leans back, standing tall and exhaling heavily out his nose. It's all we've wanted to do so far: fix her problems. But maybe we're the root of them as much as this jackass before me.

Maybe the issue is giving her the idea that anything about her is worth correcting.

“Maybe you didn’t fail,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe,” I hedge, looking at the two men watching me with matching frowns, “we did. Rae doesn’t need fixing. We do.”

15

RAE

“What you doin’ there, honey?”

Fingers brushing the knot of steel on the wall, I snap my head around and find Sweetie leaning on the doorframe. I shouldn't be in here—I know it. Nobody has explicitly told me to stay out of the gun room, but nobody has told me it's off-limits, either.

It’s just… known.

“Will you tell them?” I unhitch the truck keys from the lines of hooks mounted between two racks of rifles.

"It depends on why you want to keep it a secret." Sweetie's a pretty woman despite the signs of a long and hard life creeping in around her eyes and mouth. With a head full of wavy blonde hair, she reminds me of my mother.

Until she opens her mouth.

Then she’s better.

“I need ten minutes. Fifteen,” I plead. “Just some room to breathe.”

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