What Lies Within (40 page)

K
yla’s car was still there.

When Rafe got home and found the note from Tarik, he turned right around and headed back to the church. Crazy kid. He was not riding his bike all the way home this late at night.

Rafe stepped out of his vehicle and frowned. Why was it so dark? Before he had a chance to figure that out, he heard a door open and saw Kyla step out of the church.

He started toward her, then halted when his feet crunched over something in the street. He stopped, looking around—and then up. The streetlights. They’d been shot out.

Dread weighing on him like a snagged anchor, Rafe spun back toward Kyla. She was crouching in the street below another light, fingers to the ground. Her name had just formed on his lips when she stood and started to run back to the church.

“Annot, get back inside!”

Her alarmed voice slammed Rafe’s pulse into overdrive, and he ran toward the church—just as a shot rang out.

No!

His frantic gaze sought Kyla, and relief swept him when he saw her standing—then fled when he realized she and Tarik had Annie in their arms. They dragged her back inside the church as Kodi’s howl sounded.

“I’m sorry.” Kyla’s voice, grief-stricken, drifted through the night. “Oh, Annot, I’m so sorry.”

“Not … your fault.”

Rafe almost faltered at the sound of Annie’s voice. He’d heard voices like that before. From mortally wounded Marines.

He took the steps two at a time and halted at the sight that met him in the vestibule.

Annie, lying on the floor, covered in blood. Kyla, hands pressed to her sister’s injury. Kodi leaning into Kyla watching her mistress. Kyla looked up when he came in. The fear in her eyes melted to relief. And something more.

He didn’t have time to absorb that now, so tucked the awareness away until he could ponder it.

Kneeling beside Annie, he took hold of Kyla’s wrists. “Let me see.”

“No! I have to keep the pressure on.”

“Kyla.” He bent to draw her focus, captured her gaze. “Let me see.”

Biting her lip, Kyla nodded and moved back, arms circling Kodi, hugging the dog close. Rafe’s dread eased. The bullet had gone completely through. No telling, though, if any organs were hit.

“Am I gonna make it?”

“Hey.” Rafe smiled at Annie. It was so like her, to attempt humor at a time like this. “You think somethin’ as minor as getting shot can stop the likes of you?”

“Nah.” The word wisped out on a shivery sigh.

The sound of a siren split the air, and Rafe took Kyla’s hands and put them back in place.

“Will she be okay?”

He wanted to reassure her. Oh, how he wanted to. But he’d learned long
ago not to promise what only God could deliver. “Just keep the pressure on. I’ll be right back.”

Rafe was out the door and down the steps, waving down the ambulance. Praying every step of the way for God’s mercy.

And a miracle.

FIFTY   

I
t was a miracle she could hold the phone, let alone dial it.

Kyla listened as her phone rang. Answer. Please, answer—

“Hello?”

She cupped the receiver, knees almost giving way at the relief of hearing his voice. “Avidan.”

“Kyla? What’s wrong?”

Little wonder he asked. Fear choked her voice. “It’s Annot. She’s been hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“Shot. S-she’s been … shot.” Spoken aloud that way, the words still didn’t
make sense. Kyla gave Avidan directions to the hospital. “I don’t know how bad it is. You need to come.” She gripped the receiver. “Right away.”

“I’m on my way.”

Kyla leaned her head against the wall next to the pay phone. She needed to hang up the phone, but couldn’t seem to lift her hands to do so. Gentle hands moved over hers, taking the phone from her, hanging it up.

She knew who it was without looking, and turned to bury her face in his solid chest. “Rafe …”

He led her to nearby chairs, and they sat together. Rafe’s arm about her, his whispered encouragement, fed her starving spirit. But only for a moment. Soon she could stand it no longer and stood, pacing.

“It’s my fault! I never should have been down there that time of night. After all that’s happened—”

“There was no way you could know.”

She shook her head. “I should have sent Annot home the moment she arrived. I was just so glad to have her here …” Would she never be able to escape the consequences of her foolish decisions? Would she always be haunted by what she’d done to herself? And now to others?

God!
Kyla put her hands over her face.
God, it should have been me. Please, please, take me. Just let my sister live!

He couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take her tearing herself up like this.

Rafe had been giving her space. Letting her walk off the fear, the nervous energy, but now he pushed out of his chair. In two strides he was at her side, his hands pulling hers from her face. “Stop it!”

She tried to break free, but he gripped her arms. “Your sister never would have left, and you know that. Don’t you know how much Annie loves you? How much I—”

“Kyla?”

Rafe frowned at the man approaching them. Why did he sound so … 
proprietary
when he said Kyla’s name? Rafe glanced at Kyla, and what he saw on her features made no sense.

Guilt.

Kyla wanted to find a hole someplace and crawl in. But since no bottomless holes seemed available at the moment, she freed herself from Rafe’s steadying hands and turned to face Mason.

“Kyla, the police called me …” He stiffened when Rafe came to stand beside her. “Who is this man?”

She was backed into a corner. The words slipped out before she could stop them. “No one. Just … a friend. Of Annot’s.”

This time it was Rafe who stiffened. Kyla spun to face him, to take the words back, but he was already walking away.

Pain seared through her, and she was certain her heart was tearing in two. She turned to Mason, offered a quick, “I’ll be right back,” and ran.

He was rounding the corner when she caught up to him. “Rafe!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn.

What could she say? She longed to excuse her careless words, but knew there was no defense. She’d taken the coward’s way out. Something Rafael would never do. “Rafe … where are you going?”

He came about, eyes studying her. She tried to read the emotions there, but couldn’t. He’d put up a wall, and she couldn’t get through. “To find out what happened out there.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her to puzzle over what that meant. Find out what happ—

No!

Cold iced her spine. There was only one way Rafe could do that. He was going to talk to King K. Panic ripped through her and Kyla ran after him. She pushed through the outside doors—just in time to see his taillights heading down the street.

With a cry, she sank to her knees.

“Kyla!”

She didn’t look up, not even when Mason took hold of her arms and pulled her to her feet, and then into his arms. All she could do was press her face against him.

“Who was that?”

She pulled back, meeting Mason’s eyes. “Rafael Murphy.”

Mason’s mouth thinned. “A friend of yours.”

Tell him. You owe him the truth
.

Yes, she did. But not yet. Not now. She just shook her head and walked back toward the waiting room.

“Kyla?”

She waved Mason’s question away. She couldn’t deal with it. With him. With them.

All she could do right now … was pray.

Rafe had only come to the BB’s crib twice before, and both times by invitation.

As he approached the building, a tall form stepped out of the shadows.

Tarik.

“I knew you’d come here.”

Rafe squared off with the boy. He was in no mood for reason. “Don’t try to stop me.”

Tarik fell into step beside him. “Stop you? Man, I’m here to join you.”

Together they walked to the entrance into the 22’s main crib. Two hulking gang members stood on either side of the door, arms crossed. Rafe recognized them from the night the gang went after Kyla, outside the church.

They were the two he’d stomped.

Apparently they recognized him as well, because they both dropped into a defensive posture.

Nimrod #1 popped off first. “What you want here, tinklebe—” He swallowed what he’d been about to say, pressing his lips together. “What you want?”

Rafe leaned on his cane, gauging the best assault, should it come to that. “I need to talk with King K.”

“You got an appointment?”

This from Nimrod #2. Rafe was about to respond when Tarik stepped forward. “You tell him L’il Man wants to see him.”

Both of the gangstas hesitated, then peered at Tarik. Rafe could understand their confusion. Six months of exercise, sleep, and good food had stood Tarik in good stead. He’d bulked up considerably in the muscle department.

Nimrod #1 finally gave an abrupt nod. “Been awhile, L’il Man.”

“Not long enough. We in or not?”

The two stepped aside. “You in.”

As Rafe and Tarik walked through the door, Nimrod #2 piped up. “You in, a’ight, but question is, you comin’ out?”

Good question.

Especially considering the number of gang members milling around. Had to be a good two dozen around them as they walked through the warehouse-cum-crib. Rafe scoped out the different exit routes available, and his jaw tensed when he realized there weren’t any.

A nudge from Tarik focused his attention to the right, to a leather couch. King K sat there, women on either side.

“Well, well, look who come to visit.”

Rafe stopped in front of King, planting his feet. He rested his hands on his cane, which he kept between him and King. “I’m here about what happened at the church.”