Page 47 of What Lies Within

TYKE

My phone vibrates against my ribs as I pull up to the swanky fucking hotel Marco put the family up in overnight. I was in such a fucking rush to get out the goddamn door that I didn't stick the fucking thing in the Quad Lock, and now, what is likely an update from Minion or Hammer burns against my chest until I can get the fucking bike parked.

Fuck. What if it’s a message from my brother, assuring me we haven’t fucked things up too bad with Rae?

Or maybe it’s a message telling mehehasn’t, but my future is still undecided.

Shit.The goddamn overwhelm is real. So many fucking problems, all screaming out for me to fix them. And yet my mere mortal hands aren't enough to juggle the gazillion balls and have a hope of keeping them all airborne.

It's human to err. Divine to forgive. And yet, day after day, I expect myself not to do one and refuse to do the other.

I’m my own worst enemy.

Rigs finds a shaded park beside a jacked-up truck and tucks his ride against the curbing, leaving me to angle the bike just right so the fucking redneck who owns the overpriced behemothdoesn’t knock my Harley with his fucking door. The sun cuts through the cloud, unrelenting with its heat as it beat down on our backs on the ride here. I pray for more cover and retrieve my phone to find a message from Digger.

DIGGER

Rae's gone off-site. In the truck with Sweetie. Heading out to meet up with them.

Goddamnit.Girl really is pissed with us if she's taken a risk in leaving the compound. My lip snarls, and I swallow down the tirade of words that beg to be let free as we stride for the glittering entrance to the place. I bust my ass to keep her safe, and she flaunts it all with a goddamn temper tantrum. Maybe she is still younger than I give her credit for?

Young and reckless.

At least she has Sweetie with her.

“Issue?” Rigs winks at the doorman as we pass by.

“Rae’s gone for a fuckin’ drive with Sweetie.” I jerk my phone between us. “Digger’s on the case, though.”

He grunts in the back of his throat and then nods to our right, over my shoulder.

“You found her yet?” Deo strides across the polished marble lobby, a darn sight more relaxed in his fit today, sporting a worn dark gray T-shirt with some label I’ve never heard of and strategically shredded jeans.Still the pretty rich boy.Can’t escape his upbringing, even when he tries.

“You think I’d be here without her if I had?” Kid’s a fucking idiot too.

Perhaps blinded by love, although I don’t feel like entertaining that thought when I’m already frayed at the edges.

He sweeps a hand toward the ground floor bar. “My father awaits you in there.” Blond fuck jerks his chin in greeting toward Rigs.

My Treasurer drops his gaze the length of the kid and huffs a laugh.

It earns him a snarl in response.

"Old man day drinkin' already?" I shoot a sharp stare at the uppity receptionist, who scowls at our attire.

“Finding some solace fromher,” Deo returns.

“Bitch on site?”

“Occupied in the day spa.” He sighs. “Much to her reluctance.”

The sarcasm drips from his words. As always, Charlene capitalizes on the moment, doing what's best for her under the guise it's what everyone around her needs. Wouldn't put it past the bitch to have been in Marco's ear all night in the hopes he did precisely this.

"Never been inside this place before." Glass panel doors extend at least ten feet toward the higher ceiling. Veins of copper and black run in rivulets through the brilliant white marble walls.

The resort is dormant most of the year, barely making enough to keep the doors open. It's the winter trade that brings in its annual profit. Less than a month from now, the lobby will crawl with rich folk decked out in their latest ski and snowboard gear, influencers taking strategic photos, and YouTubers filming their newest escapade.

Part of the reason why I don’t mind being kept off the road when the snow falls; keeps me away from this shit.

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