Page 77 of What Lies Within

Turnip’s gaze flicks past me before he answers the suave trickster. “We can discuss this more when Tyke gets in. Plenty of innocent ears out here.”

I sigh and roll my head toward the fire, focusing on the dancing flames that lick across a charred log.

I can't blame the guy. There are rules in place for a reason, and I only know as much as I do because, up until this point, it's involved me. I get what Digger says about bringing me into the discussion because it pertains to Terry, but shit, this isn't just about me anymore. It's about them. About whattheyneed to do for their club.

Not what they need to do for me.

As though on cue, the building growl of motorbikes as they engine brake cuts through the wall. My chest buzzes with the realization that Tyke's back, the sound of a motorbike fast becoming my guilty pleasure. I rise from the seat a split second before Digger does, then freeze as it dawns on me that I might be doing something against their usual protocols or traditions by bolting out to greet him.

“It’s okay, baby,” Digger says with a grin. “You go welcome him back for us, yeah?”

I catch Turnip's eye as I move for the door. The older man tucks his chin in a polite nod as though giving me his blessing as well. Rigs' chuckle follows me out of the room, the cold night air a slap to my warmed skin when I step out into the dimly lit yard.

The glow of taillights illuminates the ground in broken hues of red as the men position their rides in the garage. I hug myself, warding off the chill that threatens to leave me a shivering mess, and shift impatiently from foot to foot as the lights all cut out with the engines.

Silence falls over the yard, disturbed by the scratch of boots on concrete and dirt as the guys head toward the clubhouse one by one. The poignancy of the moment dulls my excitement, a reminder that they rode out with a serious fucking goal in mind. One that's left scars and perhaps even a dead body somewhere.

Holy shit.It seems surreal to think that, to entertain the idea. But it’s a truth.

Tyke may have killed someone tonight.

And I’m okay with that. At least, Iunderstandthe choice.

Who have I become?

Joy morphs to panic as the men get closer—close enough to pick Kane in the lead, Harvey beside him, and Minion a few feet behind. I scan the yard, eyes squinted against the dark, and make out the shapes of what must be Hammer and Tyke against the garage as they shut the roller doors.

How do I do this? What could I say to Tyke that would erase the memory of what he might have done? What he faced tonight? It should be so simple to support someone through grief. But he doesn't grieve a life taken too soon, an unfair accident, or an illness with no cure. He grieves whathedid.

He grieves his actions.

The realization snaps me back to my senses as Kane climbs the steps onto the landing, Harvey close behind.

If anyone knows how to deal with the consequences of their actions and the effects of their choices, then it's me.

"You've got your work cut out," Kane says, shaking his head. “Hope you're up for it."

“What does that mean?” I twist my head as he walks away, but Tyke’s eldest ignores my question.

"It means," Harvey says with none of the usual cheer to his tone, "that the old man has some shit to work out of his system." He grins, yet it doesn't reach his eyes. "You might be up half the night helpin' him with that."

He follows his brother inside as Minion crests the steps behind him.

“Is he okay?” I nod toward where Tyke crosses the yard with Hammer.

"He will be." The big guy runs a hand over his shaven head. "How you feeling?" His dark eyes narrow as he scans me head to toe as though looking for signs of physical injury.

The memories of the day rush in as though, with one simple question, he's uncorked the bottle I'd assigned them. I shudder at the rush of adrenalin and shrug. "I don't think it's fully set in. You know?”

Minion glances behind him at his president. “Same with Tyke.” He rests a palm on my shoulder. “You’ll help each other through this, Rae.”

I want to say I know, that I understand what he means, yet my throat thickens at the gentleness of his words.

At first glance, you'd peg him as trouble. As a man not worthy of respect. Yet all I've received from Minion is kindness and care. It touches me fucking deep to have that from him, to know this intimidating man values me highly enough to give it.

“Thank you.”

He nods and then moves inside to join the others.

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