What Lies Within (43 page)

Rafe drew Fredrik into the fray. “Will you talk some sense into her?”

“Rafe, this has the ring of truth, this thing she’s asking.”

Okay. No help whatsoever from that corner. “You … well, who asked you?”

Tarik’s brows lifted. “You did.”

“Look, all of you. It’s not happening. Let it go.” Ignoring their protests, he left the room, then the church, walking out into the morning chill.
Lord, give me strength!

Words whispered through his mind.
Listen carefully to the voice of the L
ORD
your God and do what is right in his sight
.

Rafe froze at the top of the stairs. Stairs he’d all but flown up a few nights ago. Stairs that led him to a bleeding Annie Justice.
You can’t be serious
.

Not exactly a reverent response, but God had to admit it was an honest one.

If you are careful to obey me, following all my instructions, then I will be an enemy to your enemies, and I will oppose those who oppose you
.

Rafe sat down on the top step. He was a Marine. In service or out, always a Marine. As such, he’d been asked to do a lot of things. Dangerous things. Seemingly crazy things.

And yet he followed commands. Because he knew what his eyes saw was just a piece of the puzzle. But those giving the orders … they saw the picture in its entirety.

Be strong and courageous, for you must bring my people into the land I swore to give them
.

The words struck deep, resonating within him.

I will be with you
. So be it.

Rafe stood and walked back inside. Kyla, Tarik, and Fredrik were still sitting there, talking, but they stood when Rafe approached. He stood, silent, then inclined his head. “Tarik, set it up.”

“Do you mean …?”

Such hope in her tone. “I’ll take you to talk with King K.” He folded his hands over the lion’s head of his cane. “I just hope you’re ready.”

Tarik snorted. “You kiddin’? I hope King is ready.” He sprawled in the chair as only a teenage boy could do, directing a wry grin at Kyla. “ ’Cuz, Miss Builder Lady, I don’t think he’s
ever
met anything like you.”

I’m not ready for this
.

The thought kept running through Kyla’s mind as she walked between Rafael …

No. Kyla almost smiled to herself when the realization hit her. Not Rafael. Not any longer. He’d become Rafe, in her heart and in her mind.

She walked between Rafe and Tarik now, through a gauntlet of red and black.

The old Stealers Wheel song kept running through her mind, but with a new twist:
22s to the left of me, BBs to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with You
.

Heart pounding, she kept putting one foot in front of the other, holding her chin high. Ignoring comments tossed her way. Tensed for the attack she was sure was coming.

Lord, why did You do this? Why send me here? What if they jump us? Rafe can’t fight them all. And what about Tarik? He’s just starting to understand life outside of this world. What if he gets hurt here, because of me?

Good thing these people couldn’t see beyond her cloak of confidence, couldn’t hear the anxious questions tumbling over each other in her mind.

Good thing they didn’t know she was about a heartbeat away from turning and running as fast as her legs would take her. But that surety within didn’t let her go.

Not by a long shot.

A touch on her arm startled her, and she looked up. Rafael tipped his head to the side. “King K.”

She turned, and saw the gang leader sitting on a large leather couch, arms spread out along the back. A lounging sovereign, surveying intruders to his land.

Oh … help
.

Tarik’s elbow poked her. “Go on. He’s waiting.”

Sucking air through lungs that suddenly felt too tight, she did as she was bid. Walking forward until she stood in front of the man who’d been determined to destroy her work.

And her.

He leaned back, looking her over. “Your dime, lady. You wanted talk.” His lip curled. “So talk.”

Kyla indicated the couch. “May I?”

A glimmer sparked in his eyes, but she couldn’t tell if it was respect or outrage. He pursed his lips, then slid over—but just enough for her to sit right next to him.

His slow smile almost did her flagging courage in, but she forced herself
to sit. She pushed her back against the arm of the couch, then turned to face him. Far closer than she liked. But faced him, nonetheless.

Of course, she kept her gaze fixed somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. She had no desire to look a cold killer in the eyes.
Lord, what do I say?

No reply but the ache in her heart.

Which was all the reply she needed. Setting her shoulders, she let the words pour out. “I know you’re against what the church is trying to do, but I’m asking you, think about the kids. Your kids. Brothers and sisters. Children.” She spread her hands. “You
know
you don’t want this life for them.”

King didn’t reply. Just kept those cold, empty eyes fixed on her. Kyla tried again. “How many have you lost, King? How many children have died, shot down in the streets for no reason other than they live two blocks one direction or another? You know there’s a better life for them out there.” She met his gaze for a heartbeat, then looked away. Forced herself not to flinch at the violence burning in those dark depths. “That’s why you let Tarik go. Why you let him live with Rafael.”

King’s chin lifted a fraction, but he held his silence.

Lord, help me. Give me the right words
. “Don’t you see? Fredrik and the others, they’re not trying to take over your turf. All they want to do is save the children. To give them a place to go that’s off the streets. To get them involved in things that will bring life, not death.”

King K crossed his muscled arms over his chest. The power this man held was amazing. Physical power. Emotional power. Kyla knew he could break her in half without even trying. But she willed herself not to waver. Not to show fear.

She
had
to get through to him. Yes, he’d said they were done. That the gang wouldn’t interfere in the building. But what about after that? What about when the center opened, and young people starting coming?

If he didn’t stop the opposition now, all of it … if the 22s didn’t back off, the church, the center,
they
were done. The youth center would fail. And all those children would be lost. As Kyla looked around the room, she saw faces far younger than she’d expected. Tarik had told her the OGs didn’t want their younger siblings in the gangs, and yet here they were.

Why couldn’t the 22s see that these precious little lives hung in the balance?

Suddenly Kyla realized she was crying. She wasn’t making a sound, but
tears had gathered in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. She wiped the moisture, staring down at it with a frown.

“Why you cryin’, woman?”

“I …” Kyla looked from her damp hand to meet King’s sneer.

“If you think you gon’ get your way by cryin’, you wrong. I ain’t some white boy gets all gushy inside when a woman cries.”

Kyla straightened her shoulders. “I’m not crying for you. I’m crying”—she looked past him at two gang members who couldn’t be any older than eleven or twelve—“for them.”

King turned, following her gaze. When he faced her again, a frown creased his brow, and he fell silent for a moment. “Why you care what happens to the children here?” He jerked his chin toward the direction of the church. “That place ain’t your crib. This ain’t your turf. You a hired gun, is all.”

“You’re right.”

His carefully schooled features lost their bored look at that, but just for a moment.

Kyla went on. “I
was
a hired gun when I first started this job. All I cared about was getting the project done on time. Proving I could do what the other contractors couldn’t.”

A sneer twisted across his mouth. “You gon’ tell me all that changed now?”

“Yes.” Even as she said the word, Kyla felt the confirmation inside. She was telling the truth. It had changed.
She
had changed. That’s why she was crying. Not because she wasn’t getting the project done, or because her reputation, business, and freedom were at risk. None of that mattered.

No, the only thing that mattered, she realized with stunning clarity, was the children.

Mouth open on a silent
O
, Kyla looked at the man sitting beside her. A man old before his time. Scarred, inside and out, from scrapping to gain every bit of respect. Every bit of turf.

Get it and hold it.

“You’re right, too, when you say I don’t know what it’s like here. What your life is like. But I’m asking you to believe me on this. We, the church people
and I, we’re trying to help, not hurt you. Look at the children! Your sisters and brothers. Don’t you see what a place like this could do for them?”

“What you afraid of?”

Kyla stopped. “What do you mean?”

“You sit here talking, lookin’ all ’round the room. At everyone here. Everyone but me. Why you look away every time you start to look me in the eye?”

She should have known. Should have realized he wouldn’t miss the slight. Fear whispered along her nerves, but she knew she could hide no longer.

Kyla looked up.

Their eyes met—and suddenly all of her fear melted away. Because there, sitting in front of her, was not the monster she’d created in her mind. But a young man. And when she looked into those dark, haunted eyes, it was as though God opened her heart and let her see.

Really see.

Brokenness. Hopelessness. Pride. Determination.

All the same things she saw in her own eyes when she faced herself in the mirror—

No!

Kyla pulled back. She was not like this man! She’d never tried to hurt anyone. Never killed. Never broke the law. How could anyone think she was like him?

She stood, hands clenched at her sides.
Was this why You brought me here? To tell me this? That I’m like …

“Kyla?”

Rafe’s voice jerked her focus back to the present, and she met King’s eyes again. No. She was
not
like this man.

“You want me to look at you?”

King’s features hardened at the derision in her tone. She felt a hand on her arm, but shook Rafe off without even looking his way.

“Fine! I’m looking. And you know what I see?”

King’s lip curled. “Do tell.”

“A man who cares for no one but himself. Who uses his followers to his own ends, to commit crimes and cause others harm.”

The storm brewing on King’s face should have stopped her cold. Instead, it only fed her growing fury.

“You’ve done everything you can to destroy what good people are trying to do. And why? Because it’s your turf?” Her laugh held no humor. “I don’t buy it. You want to know why I think you’ve done all this? Why you’ve vandalized. Why you broke into my home. Why”—she was shaking now—“you almost killed my sister.”

King was on his feet now. “Yeah. I want to know.”

“Because you, King Killa, are a coward.”

Someone grabbed her from behind, jerking her back. She spun, ready to fight, only to find Rafe glaring down at her. “What are you
doing?
“ He hissed the words at her.

“Nah, man.” King lifted his chin. “Let her go. We not done here.”

Kyla pulled free, knowing as she did so that it was only because Rafe let her. She could tell, from the blaze in those eyes, that he was moments away from hauling her out of there.

And she couldn’t blame him. Kyla held her hand up, then turned back to King. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t react.
Oh God, what have I done? See what happens when I let my emotions go? I destroy what You’re trying to accomplish
.

But even as the thought formed, she knew it was a lie. That it wasn’t her
emotions
leading her astray. It was one emotion. The one that had plagued her since the day she realized she was pregnant with Berto’s child.

Fear.

Whether it masqueraded as anger and rage, or ushered in its playmates depression and hopelessness, fear was always there. Taunting her. Pushing her to utter stupidity.

She faced King K square on. “I came here to talk, not accuse. I’m sorry. I …” The admission caught in her throat, but she lifted her chin and forced it out. “I was afraid. When I looked at you, I saw something I didn’t expect. And … it frightened me.”

Still no reaction from him. Just one question. “What’d you see?”

Are you asking this of me, God? Must I confess my failings in this place, to this man?

She knew the answer before she asked. Straightening her back, she met his eyes. “Myself. I saw myself.”

That got a response, though Kyla wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. King tipped his head, eyes narrowing. “You know what, Builder Lady?”

“What?”

“You whack.”

“I’m … what?”

“You whack. You standin’ here, thinkin’ you know us. Know me. And you ain’t got no clue. Not who we are or what we do. And I got a news flash for you. We didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?”