What Lies Within (45 page)

Mason started to come toward her, but she stepped back. “Thank you for your help, Mason. I appreciate it more than I can say.” She met his eyes, holding back nothing. Hurt. Shock. Betrayal. Loathing. “And now I’d appreciate it if you would leave.”

“Kyla, please, it’s not like Ballat made it sound.”

Her jaw tensed. “Did you work with him?”

Desperation darkened his eyes. “Yes, but—”

“Did you agree to help him keep us from completing this job?”

He slammed a fist on the desk. “I’ve been here, helping! Remember? Working while you were at the hospital?”

She didn’t give an inch. “Before that, Mason? What about before Annot was shot?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I … yes. I agreed to help him. But I couldn’t go through with it.”

“This time.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said you’d always delivered before.”

The words hung in the charged air. Kyla saw the truth on his pale face. How had she been so
wrong?
So deceived? She thought Mason a man of character. Of integrity.

“So what you’re telling me is you’ve been one of Ballat’s hired thugs.”

“I swear to you, I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“Physically. But if you did to them what you attempted to do here, then Mason, you hurt people. Hurt them deeply.”

His fist opened, and he placed his palm against the top of the desk, as though he needed support. “You’re right.”

The admission brought her no joy, no triumph. Only a heaviness that settled somewhere in the center of her chest.

He straightened. “I’m sorry, Kyla. For everything. But most of all, for hurting you.”

She longed to forgive him. Maybe she would one day … but for now, all she could do was stand mute as he came toward her, pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, and walked out of the office.

FIFTY-SIX   

T
he Marines had landed. Literally.

Kyla watched as Rafe’s team came into the main terminal.

Even if he hadn’t pointed them out, she’d have known it was them. Tall, straight, the unmistakable pride in those long strides.

These men were the real thing.

One of the men, a stocky blond who looked in need of a neck, was the first to spot Rafe. He grabbed the dark-haired man next to him and pointed. “Asadi!”

Kyla glanced at Rafe; he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Thales. Great to see you.” Rafe held out his hand as the big blond came to meet him. Within seconds, a mass of tall, ramrod straight men surrounded Rafe, pounding his back, their laughter rich and deep.

“Hey, Sarge, you lookin’ good.”

“Course he is, Monroe.” The big blond punched the young man beside him in the arm. Kyla could scarcely believe the dark-haired man was a Marine. He looked so young! “You think the Sarge couldn’t hack civilian life or somethin’?”

“No way, Thales. It’s just good ol’ no-necks like you who have trouble with that.”

Thales turned back to Rafe. “Man, Asadi. Why’d you make me invite this farm boy? He don’t do so well out in public, you know.”

“Did just fine savin’ your bacon a time or two, buddy.”

A voice as smooth and soothing as honey rose over the horseplay. Kyla studied the darkly handsome Hispanic standing next to Rafe.

“Gentlemen, please. I doubt Asadi called us here to watch us fight among ourselves. In fact, I believe we have a whole new enemy to defeat.”

“That we have, Sabada.” He looked from one face to another, and Kyla couldn’t miss the gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks for coming.”

A lean black man, the last of the group to speak up, put a broad hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “You needed us. We’re here. It’s that simple.”

Such truth contained in those simple words.

“Rashidi, you always did have a way with words.” Thales nudged the black man with an elbow, then angled a look at Kyla. “So, Asadi, who’s the beauty?”

Kyla felt her face flame as all eyes—and a few cheeky grins—focused on her.

“Boys, meet Kyla Justice. Kyla, this motley crew”—pride and respect rang in his tone, belying the insult—“is the Pride. Tom Sabada, our point man and resident Taekwondo master; Rashidi Martin, my ATL—”

She frowned. “ATL.”

“Assistant Team Leader, ma’am.” Rashidi’s voice was as warm as those brown eyes. “And honored to be so.”

Rafe went on. “Kevin Monroe, a bit of a hothead, but the best navigator in the Corps. Oo-rah?”

“Oo-rah!”

Kyla jumped at the enthusiastic chorus. “And last but not least, our resident southerner, and communications expert, David Thales.”

The big man’s face split into a grin as he stepped forward to engulf her hand in his large paws. “Well, Sarge, I gotta say it, she’s ever’thing you said she was. N’ a whole lot more. Shoot, if
you
wasn’t sweet on her, I’d have to step in.”

There went the heat in her cheeks again.

“You?” Monroe hooted. “Like she’d look twice at you with Asadi around.”

Thales elbowed his buddy. “Hey, some women prefer men like me, okay?”

“Like you? You mean like gorillas?”

Rafe’s laughter, so full of delight, wrapped around Kyla. “Okay, gentlemen, that’s enough of that.”

“Hey, Sarge, what you think about Sabada’s hair?”

Kyla followed Thales’s nod, realizing Sabada was the only one among them who’d forgone the military buzz cut. His thick black hair fell to his shoulders.

Sabada shrugged. “I got tired of crew cuts.”

Rafe’s hair was short, but the other three Marines sported military cuts, hair shaved close to the scalp. It suited them. With their straight backs and square jaws, the air of power and confidence they exuded, Kyla had no trouble believing these men could overcome anything. Or anyone.

Rafe took Kyla’s arm and turned her toward the exit. “Come on, boys. We’re going to the church, where I’ll fill you in on what’s happening tonight.”

“Tonight, huh?” Monroe whooped. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to wait long to rattle some cages.”

“Not long at all, Monroe.” He looked at the men flanking him. “It’s time for the Pride to prowl.”

“It’s comin’.”

Rafe almost jumped out of his skin. “Thales, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

The kid’s teeth glowed white in the darkness. “Nah, Sarge. I’d just have to carry you to safety if I did that.” He moved next to Rafe, shouldering his weapon. “Just come to let you know everyone’s in position.”

Rafe took in Thales’s SitRep as he studied the sky. The sun was just dipping toward the horizon. Nothing would happen until full darkness provided their attackers cover. If only Rafe knew who was coming, and when.

He’d called the police, but without any real details, they couldn’t promise much.

“You’re saying someone may be comin’ at some point tonight, but you don’t know who or when?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, sir, I can’t exactly send a squad out there for something you don’t even know is going to happen.”

The radio on Rafe’s shoulder crackled to life. “Hey, Sarge.”

Rafe keyed the mike. “Yeah, Monroe?”

“I’m hungry.”

“You ate two steaks at dinner tonight!”

Sabada’s voice joined in. “That was just the appetizer, sir.”

“Keep eating like you do, Monroe,” Rashidi added, “and you’ll weigh four hundred pounds.”

Thales grinned at Rafe and keyed his mike. “Now Rashidi, you know that boy is from Iowa. They got hollow legs there, as well as hollow hea—”

“Stuff it, Thales.”

“Back atcha,
Monroe
.”

It was so familiar. The banter to ease tension. Standing shoulder to shoulder, studying the terrain as night began to fall. Like coming home. Rafe hadn’t realized until this very moment how much he missed it.

No … missed
them
. The Pride. The Corps. The sense of belonging to something bigger, something that mattered in ways you couldn’t by yourself.

All of it.

He lifted his gaze—and his sorrow—to the sky.
Where do I belong now? I want to belong
. No, more than that.
I need it
.

“Asadi?”

Rafe pulled his focus back where it belonged. “Right here, Thales.”

The big man nodded, the matchstick between his teeth making a slow dip up and down as he chewed on it. “Sorry, sir. Just makin’ sure.” He didn’t look at Rafe, but his concern came through loud and clear in his tone. “You seemed kinda gone for a minute there.”

Rafe drew in the night air, letting it expand his lungs. A wry smile made its way across his mouth. “You saying I’m not as sharp as I used to be?”

This time Thales turned, his eyes wide as they met Rafe’s gaze. “Nah, sir. I’d never—”

Rafe chuckled and waved the younger man’s chagrin aside. “Never mind.

You were right. I was gone. But I’m focused now.” He frowned, remembering. “Hey, you said something when you snuck up on me a minute ago.”

“Didn’t sneak, sir. You just wasn’t payin’ attention is all.”

Rafe let that pass. Hard to debate the truth. “You said ‘It’s comin’.’ ”

Thales nodded. “Yes sir.”

Rafe’s frown deepened a fraction. “What is?”

Thales’s gaze drifted past Rafe, to the street and beyond. He studied the night like a rabbit searched the skies when a hawk cried. “The storm. It’s comin’.” His gaze cut back to Rafe. “Soon.”

Rafe wasn’t afraid, but this wasn’t Iraq, and it wasn’t war. Not the official kind, anyway. Overseas, the enemy was clear; the objective honorable. He’d never doubted what they were doing, not for a second. In-country, it was kill or be killed. Right and wrong. Freedom.

Here … it was about real estate.

Money. Power. That young men were willing to kill, or be killed, for such things made no sense. Yes, Rafe had made every precaution to avoid having to take someone out. But if he’d learned anything in Iraq, it was that even seemingly perfect plans had a way of going wrong.

“Sure would feel better if our ammo was the real deal, sir.”

Rafe agreed, but even blanks sound real enough when fired from an M16. And that’s what they wanted: the convincing sound of automatic gunfire. Even the most battle-tested hesitated to move in on automatic weapons. That sound alone would give them time—maybe enough time for the police to deploy—before their attackers mustered the guts to come at them again.

Then the fight would be hand to hand.

At least they wouldn’t be facing the 22s. King K was holding to his word—the Brotherhood was out of this fight. All Rafe knew was that another gang was coming.

Tonight.

Madness, Lord. This is madness. These young men we’ll be fighting, they belong to You too. But they don’t know it. Don’t know You. Are we right to do this?

“I’m with you, Asadi.”

This time Rafe looked at his friend, met the steady gaze. Eyes of iron, yet glowing with trust. Loyalty.

“They made this call, sir. Gave us no choice. You’ve done all you can to
make sure no one gets hurt, but these men? They don’t care. Life means nothing to them. They’ve proven that. So what you’re doing here? It’s the only thing a man could do.”

“You’re a good man, Thales. Thanks for being here.”

Emotion flickered in those steady eyes. “Honored to stand at your side, sir.”

“So are we.”

For the second time that night, Rafe almost jumped out of his skin. He and Thales spun, weapons at the ready, then halted at the sight that met their eyes.

Fredrik and the elders stood there, feet planted, arms crossed, determination gleaming in their ancient eyes. Right beside them was Tarik, who Rafe had told, in no uncertain terms, to stay home. Apparently he’d neglected to tell Fredrik that. Just as Fredrik had ignored Rafe’s request that the elders stay safe at home.

Why didn’t anyone ever listen to him?

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Rafe’s outrage didn’t faze them. They closed ranks, and Fredrik stood tall, white hair a gleaming halo in the darkening night. “We’re here to stand with you.”