What Lies Within (Red River Reapers #2)

1. Rae

1

RAE

"What the fuck you mean her tracking isn't on?" Tyke hollers at a tense Turnip. "Where the fuck was she last?"

The scruffy guy raises his hands to appease the beast. "Downtown." Turnip turns his phone to show Tyke. "Somewhere on Emerald Street."

"Somewhere?" The tendons stand proud on Maddie's father's neck, eyes wild as he demands answers from his Road Captain. Answers I don't think he's going to get.

I feel sick to the stomach, guilty as all hell knowing I've been out enjoying myself, reveling in Tyke doting on me while his daughter—my best friend—was in danger.

Is still in danger.

Fuck.

"I've sent Murmur and Hammer to sweep the business district," Minion offers. "But it's after hours. And unless they break into every shop down the row, we can't rule out if they hold her there."

"Why the fuck would they hold her in a shop?" Tyke's fearsome face distorts with his pain and confusion. "Are you fuckin' stupid? They'd take her somewhere else."

"We don't even know who 'they' are," Kane states from his bar stool. "We don't even know where they're based. What fronts they have." His leg taps a frantic beat, foot hooked on the stool. "She could be in a fuckin' shop storeroom for all we know." His first reaction was to head out and smash heads until someone said something useful.

It took Minion disarming him and confiscating his keys, then another member's, to stop Maddie's brother from going after her. A devotion I didn't expect to see after the way they left things the other day.

I turn my phone face up, tucked in my lap, to check the screen for the millionth time. My stupid vision board wallpaper stares back at me, taunting me with idealized images of my perfect life. Fucking bullshit that it is. I tap into the message folder despite no new notifications. Her last text—the day she saved me from the diner—sits taunting like a reminder of my reminiscence.

Kane was right. I arrived at this damn clubhouse a total stranger to the world encapsulated inside, and within a short time, I've positioned myself at the side of the two most influential members. At least, at the side of one, for now.

I glance toward the door from where I sit, leaning against one of the Chesterfields, as though I can will Digger to walk through with Maddie hot on his heels. The men continue to rage around me, arguing tactics and conspiracy theories, while I steady my breaths and fucking visualize the perfect end to all of this: Maddie with her uncle. The whole thing a massive misunderstanding.

"Get Terry on the phone," Tyke thunders, dropping to the seat behind me.

The cushion balloons under his weight, jolting me out of a fool's dream.

"You know, as good as I do, he'd be the first one on the blower if he had your girl," Rigs states, perched on the back of the sofa to my right, legs at Minion's shoulder. "No point givin' the fucker a heads up if he ain't connected to this."

"Fuck." Tyke groans, the seat rolling behind me as he moves. "Fuck! If not that cunt, then who? You think Volkov could have her?"

"It's possible, but let me get ears on the ground first," Turnip offers. "See what's bein' squawked on the wire before you go off half-cocked."

"There's nothin'," Kane bites, staring down into his glass of liquor. "I already pinged the network today. They're shut up tight. Nobody's talkin'."

"When today?" Tyke asks. "What about?" His fingers find my hair, startling me a little as they begin to twirl and play with the loose lengths.

I wind my arm around the back of his calf and rest my palm against his shin.

"Digger asked me to do a loop," Kane explains. "He had an inklin' it was too quiet out there. Reckoned something was about to go down."

Tyke stiffens beneath my touch. The implication sears a hole in my heart. He suspects his flesh and blood.

As though confirming my fear, Turnip grinds his jaw before saying quietly, "He wouldn't be involved with this shit."

"I can't believe you'd even think that." My voice cracks like a whip; all eyes turn toward me as though I'd been previously invisible.

"Live this life long enough, girly, and not much comes as a surprise anymore." Turnip gives a sharp nod, indicating that he means no disrespect.

"Nobody thinks he's involved," Tyke says softly. "But I'd sure like to know what the fuck's takin' him so long."

Turnip ducks his head, weathered thumb working over his phone screen. "He's not far off."

"Good."

The call went out to gather everyone together forty minutes ago. It wasn't until Tyke brought me back from our shopping trip that the red flags appeared. Maddie hadn't been present at breakfast, which apparently isn't all that uncommon, but Harvey had been trying to get hold of her since, hoping she'd be able to pick up supplies while she was in town.

Three hours passed without a reply before he brought the issue to Tyke.

After fifteen minutes of calls going direct to voicemail and no reported movement on her tracking dot, he declared it an emergency.

I've never seen people come together so fast and so damn coordinated. Everyone knew their role. Everyone knew where to go, who to ask, what to bring. I don't dare ask if it's because they've had to do this before.

"Find out if Volkov's still in town," Tyke barks to Minion, leaning forward in his seat as he does. "Get eyes on Atticus and a position for Terry. I want to know where every motherless asshole in this fuckin' town is." He stands, tapping me on the shoulder as he does. "I've got a call to make, and then we'll reconvene here in ten."

"Who?" Turnip narrows his gaze on Tyke as he makes a move to pass.

The challenge is in the lines around his eyes. He wants to know why Tyke hasn't taken this to the group—why he chooses to make a private call amid the chaos.

"Marco." He glances at Minion, who leans closer for the answer and explains. "Maddie was out with Deo the night we picked up Rae. Maybe the spoiled little fucker knows somethin'."

"Shit." Minion catches sight of his daughter entering from the back hall and lifts a hand to beckon her over. "Let us know what you find out."

"Convene in ten." Tyke turns to look over his shoulder, locating me amongst the masses. "With me, baby girl."

I nod and weave past broad men decked out in leather and black to keep up with Maddie's father's long strides as he heads for the privacy of his office. He waits for me to enter behind him and then shuts the door, reducing the chatter in the main room to a dull hum.

"You okay, baby girl?" His hands find my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones as he searches my gaze. "I know it's worryin', but we know what we're doin'. We'll find her."

Goddamn, this man wants to tear my heart out. "I'm okay. What about you, though?" His daughter is missing, and he's concerned about how I feel.

"Be better when this shit is over." He pulls away, emotions guarded as he glances away at nothing and then gestures for me to sit. "Give me a minute, yeah?"

"Do whatever you need." I curl myself into the leather cushions—seeking comfort from their soft embrace—and tug my phone for another fruitless check. Still nothing.

Where the fuck are you, Mads?

Tyke settles at his desk with a strained sigh. The chair creaks under his frame as he leans forward to set both elbows on the tabletop, head hung between his large hands. He's silent for a long minute, unmoving before he draws a fortifying breath and straightens to retrieve his phone.

I curl tighter in on myself, realizing that as useless as I've felt in the past, none of it holds a damn candle to how shit I feel now. I don't know anyone to call. At least, nobody useful. Don't have enough knowledge of the people here, or the dark corners of the town, to know where to look. I'm adrift until somebody gives me a rudder or, at the very least, an anchor.

"Yeah," Tyke barks in response to what I assume is Marco's greeting. "Your boy there?"

I distract myself by studying the pictures on the walls from my position in the middle of the room while Tyke talks with the mafia associate. What appear to be the oldest images show the makings of the club. I count the ten men in the faded print, all proudly standing in front of their machines at what seems to be a roadside stop. There are candids mixed amongst the more formal photos, but the theme continues around the paneled walls—group shots every few years that outline the growing number of members. I can pick the moment the club splits, no doubt branching into the first of the other chapters Maddie told me about; the numbers drop from more than forty tiny figures to around fifteen before slowly increasing again.

Tyke details Maddie's timeline to the guy on the other end of the phone, asking for anything his son—Deo—can add as I slip off the sofa and walk to the most recent image. It's a few years old, looking at the familiar faces in the group. Tyke has shorter hair. Digger's is past his shoulders. I like the look on him. Takes the severe edge off him somewhat. I spot Turnip, Rigs, Minion, Hammer, and who I've learned is Murmur amongst the group. Kane kneels at the front, Harvey awkwardly standing beside him. My chest tightens when I spot Maddie, head turned to grin at her father from her spot front left. It's the man behind her who scowls down at my friend that elicits a shiver down my spine.

Tyke's shadow covers the image, his warm hand coming to my waist a second later.

"Who's this?" I ask, pointing to the unknown member.

He grumbles a little before answering. "My older brother, Fox."

The guy who made Maddie scrub his bathroom as a kid. "You don't get along with him, hey?"

"Not particularly." He moves away from the image and me. "He chose to leave us a few years back. Haven't heard a lot from him since."

I honor the pain in his voice and leave the subject for another time. "Could they help?" I nod toward Tyke's desk, where he took the call.

I never knew who Maddie saw that night—on her date—and I never asked. Another barb sinks into my heart when I realize how careless that must seem to her. Why didn't I ask? Why didn't I even think to?

"He couldn't tell me anything useful, no," Tyke answers. "But you'll meet him soon enough." His slight frown concerns me when he meets my gaze. "I gotta warn you: Marco is slick, baby girl. He'll trick you into spillin' some fuckin' secret you didn't even realize you knew. I want you to stay sharp around him. You get me?"

I nod. "Yeah. I do." It aches to ask, but "Will she come with him?"

His frown deepens a second before his entire expression relaxes. "The witch? Shit, baby. I hope not."

"I mean, she is Maddie's mother."

"Not that it's made a lick of difference so far." Tyke returns to where I hover near the wall, leaning down a little to level our gazes, knees bent and hands on my waist. "You jealous, Rae?" One eyebrow lifts.

"Shut up." I slap his chest. "No way."

"It's okay if you are." His lips curl in a playful smirk as he hoists me against him. "She did get the best years of this body before you."

I level him with a heated glare, legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. "Are you seriously trying to make me mad?"

His laugh is a balm to my soul amongst all this tension. "Naw. Just havin' fun." The gravity of the situation returns to his awareness, the color draining from his cheeks, eyes dying to a darker grey as he sets me carefully on the floor. "Come on." He glances at me, reticent in his duty. "I need to talk to the others."

"Sure." Hand in his, I head back into the main living area. The connection only registers as odd when Minion notes our touching palms with a raised brow.

I try to pull my hand free, yet Tyke grips it tighter. "Got somethin' to say?" he barks at his Enforcer as we pass.

"Nothin' here, boss." The scary-looking bastard gives me a wink that Tyke doesn't see.

"What's new?" Tyke hollers, leading us to our previous position. He scowls toward the door before dropping onto the sofa. "And somebody fuckin’ tell me how fuckin' far away my goddamn brother is." I'm jerked onto his lap, one strong arm banded around my waist. "Gimme minutes, Turnip. How many fuckin' minutes away is he?"

My attention slides off the Road Captain as he studies his phone with a tight frown and across to where Kane still occupies the same stool at the bar, nursing a drink. Tyke's son drags his gaze the length of me and then lifts an eyebrow. I catch the curious glances given by several of the members and opt not to add more fuel to the raging fire.

"Give him fuckin' five at most," Turnip snaps.

Tyke may be comfortable displaying our unusual arrangement, but the day his daughter is missing without explanation is not the day to flaunt special treatment or dispensation.

Much to Tyke's rumbled discord, I peel the arm from my waist and weigh my options. Rigs occupies the seat beside Tyke's, so I slide to the floor at their President's feet, between his legs, and tug my knees in tight.

Kane smiles around the glass tilted to his lips, smug satisfaction hard to miss.

"Volkov is back in the city," Minion shares. "Also got word from Hammer. They found nothing in town besides her bike, where she normally leaves it. No sign of a struggle, nothing out of place."

The rocks in my gut multiply. I recheck my phone.

"Best I can find out, Atticus has been doin' the rounds of his businesses all day," Kane informs. "A few of my birdies saw him enter and exit the strip club late morning, and another spotted him talking to one of his crew at the pawnbroker just after lunch."

"And Terry?"

The officers look at one another. Kane looks ready to throttle someone.

"Well?" Tyke hollers.

"We're havin' trouble puttin' a pin in him," Turnip murmurs.

"Just let me fuckin' go out, and I'll goddamn tell you where the asshole is," Kane roars, rising from his seat. "Ten minutes, tops."

"No." Tyke utters the directive, fingers massaging his forehead. "I got one kid missin'. Don't need another dead."

His eldest son resumes his seat with a growl. "Fuckin' bullshit."

I check my phone again, the feeling there's something more useful I could do with it budding from a tiny seed.

"You know Terry's inner circle is tight," Minion explains. "Makes it hard to get word on his whereabouts without givin' the game away. We can't just go askin' questions if you want to keep this on a need-to-know basis. May as well call the fucker up direct and ask him what he's wearin'."

"Fuck's sake." Tyke goes quiet, save for a labored sigh that falls toward me. "Who have you asked?"

"The usual," Minion says. "None of our sparrows know a fuckin' thing. A car left his premises this morning, but nobody could say who was in it."

Spies. They're relying on spies to tell them where the asshole is. Visions of the smug fuck grinning wide as he watched me back out of the room—the acrid smell of Tom's blood, piss, and vomit burned in my nostrils—haunt my mind.

If he has Maddie, he won't sit idly and wait for anyone to realize. The bastard doesn't need a reason to start whatever torture he has planned for her. He does that kind of sick shit for fun.

I lean forward, let my hair curtain my hands while my knees block them from view, and bring my phone to life. My thumbs shake over the tiny keyboard as I pen the words. Maybe I'm foolish. Perhaps this isn't my brightest moment, but one thought continues to echo: I can be useful. I smack Send before I give the idea a second thought.

"What the fuck's goin' on here?"

I jerk my head around and find a missing third of my heart framed in the big door to the yard. Digger stands with his hands before him while Minion approaches to gently broker the news to their Vice.

But it's no matter. I watch with helpless horror as Digger tugs his phone out and reads the message that I'd sent him earlier.

We can't find Maddie.

The same message that I re-sent to a different number just now. My phone vibrates against my palm, and I stare down at the words that incite both hope and fear in equal doses into my heart.

CONNOR

I might know where she is.