What Lies Within Read online

  “Did Fredrik tell you that there’s one very determined, and even more dangerous, man out there who will do everything he can to keep this center from being built?”

  She nodded. “He did.”

  That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “He did?”

  “Sam Ballat. Yes, Fredrik told me.”

  Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way. Sheepish. Foolish.

  Or could he? Actually, if he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit something he’d been trying to ignore. He’d been feeling foolish for months. Ever since the day Kyla Justice walked back into his life. Fascinating how a man’s fury could go from zero to sixty and back in a matter of seconds.

  “I’m sorry, Fredrik.” There was no doubting the sincerity in Rafael’s voice. “I misjudged you.”

  Kyla almost snorted, ready to point out Fredrik wasn’t the only misjudged soul here today. But before she got a chance, the old man rested a hand on Rafael’s shoulder.

  “No need for apologies, Rafe. I know what all this means to you. God made you a passionate man—”

  Passionate? Was that what you called it?

  “—and I wouldn’t change that about you. Besides, you were right.” At this, Fredrik came toward Kyla, holding his hands out. She placed her hands in his, noting the strength in his grip. “I wasn’t completely forthcoming, my dear. I didn’t want to frighten you away before you caught the vision for what God has called us to here.”

  She tugged at Fredrik’s rough hands. Hands that had helped so many. “So tell me now.”

  He did so, explaining the obstacles they’d faced since beginning the project—which, Kyla had to admit, were many. Minimal funding, suppliers who seemed hesitant to deal with them because they didn’t want to cross Sam Ballat, dissension within the elders, who were overseeing the project …

  Kyla patted Fredrik’s hands. “You’re right, it’s a lot. But it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before on other projects.” She offered him as encouraging a smile as she could. “That’s all just a part of construction, Fredrik. Nothing that you’ve told me sounds all that terrible.”

  “He’s not finished.”

  She looked from Rafael to Fredrik. “You’re not?”

  Clearly, the older man didn’t want to go on. But Rafael placed his hand on Fredrik’s shoulder. “You have to tell her all of it.”

  Fredrik nodded. “We have a certain group here in the neighborhood …”

  “A group?”

  Rafael’s patience was wearing. Kyla could tell from the increased tension in his voice. “A gang.”

  Kyla’s eyes widened at that. “A gang.”

  Misery rested on Fredrik’s features. “A gang, yes. But not one involved in truly serious crimes. At least, not murder.” He pointed at Rafael. “You told me that yourself, Rafe. They aren’t like those violent prison gangs or the violent gangs immersed in the drug trade.”

  Thank goodness for that.

  “No, they’re just a violent gang bent on defending their territory.”

  Kyla turned to face both men. “Their territory being?”

  Rafael didn’t flinch. “This neighborhood.”

  So. If she took this job she’d be facing tight deadlines, high expectations from the church leadership, and resistance from a bunch of hoodlums. She should just turn and walk away. Kyla opened her mouth to say she was going to do just that, but what came out instead was, “Tell me about this gang.”

  Fredrik took her arm, tugging her toward a pew. “Come, sit. I will tell you all I know.”

  She followed him, lowering herself onto the cushion. Lord, a gang? This is the project You’re calling me to? One where I have to deal with a gang?

  “They call themselves the Blood Brotherhood.”

  She focused on Fredrik’s somber words.

  “They started a number of years ago and have been growing a bit as each year passed. We’ve lost a number of the youth from our church families to this gang.”

  Kyla folded her hands in her lap. “What do they want?”

  Rafael spoke up. “They consider this neighborhood their territory. Their turf, they call it. And they want to keep it. Every inch of it. Having a youth center here, it might pull some of the kids away from them. So, as you can imagine, they’re less than enthusiastic about the proposition.”

  “I thought you were working with them. Had gained their trust. Can’t you talk with them? Explain that a center might actually help them?”

  Rafael’s gaze narrowed, and she had the sense he was trying to determine if she was criticizing him. But when he spoke, his voice was calm. Assured. “I’ve done exactly that, and while some may want to buy into it, unless the leadership does so, it’s a no-go.”

  “The leadership?”

  Fredrik leaned toward her. “One young man.” His gaze traveled to Rafael, who nodded.

  “Tell her.”

  Oh dear. This didn’t sound good. “Tell me what?”

  “The leader, his name is King K.”

  “Fredrik.”

  The old man bent his head at Rafael’s scold, then heaved a deep sigh. “Which stands for King Killa.”

  “King Killa.” Kyla had the sense that should mean something to her. She looked from Fredrik to Rafael.

  The latter shook his head at her apparent thickness. “Killa is gangspeak. For killer.”

  She stiffened. “You mean … has he really killed?”

  Rafael’s shrug was as eloquent as it was dismissive. “No one can prove it, but he claims six kills.” He angled a look at her. “That’s how he made his bones.”

  “Made his …?”

  “Got into the gang. You know, ‘Blood in, blood out.’ ”

  Her confusion must have been plastered on her features, because he went on.

  “Only way in is to kill. Only way out, be killed.”

  “I thought that was just the Mexican mafia.”

  Mafia? Kyla stared at Fredrik. There was a mafia involved?

  Rafael shook his head. “Other gangs have taken it up. With King Killa in charge, you know the Brotherhood won’t let anyone out without spilling blood.”

  All they were saying was utterly terrifying. If she had a brain in her head, she’d turn and walk away. And yet as she listened, she felt a quickening deep within. Against all common sense, a certainty grew.

  This was the kind of project she’d been asking God to bring her. And though her mind told her to run and not look back, her heart had other ideas. “Let me pray about it.”

  Another snort from the peanut gallery. Kyla pinned Rafael with a glare. “You have a problem with prayer?”

  “Me? No. But then, I’m not looking for it to justify a bad decision.”

  Oooh! That man was impossible! She turned her back on him and focused on Fredrik. “I’ll get back to you in a week.”

  “If you’re smart, you’ll say no.”

  She turned back to Rafael Murphy. How had she ever thought this man appealing? “Perhaps so. But I’m far more concerned, Mr. Murphy, with being obedient.” She just barely withheld the “So there!” perched on her tongue.

  “Come, kinder. It’s time we should leave, while everyone is still alive.”

  Fredrik’s tone almost made her laugh out loud. It reminded her of her mother’s voice when she moderated childhood battles between Kyla and her siblings.

  From Rafael’s expression, he recognized the tone as well. A wry smile teased his lips, and he put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Fredrik. We … I got a little”—his gaze slid to Kyla, apology clear in his eyes—“out of control.”

  She inclined her head and linked her arm in Fredrik’s. “We got out of control. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “Got zol ophiten.”

  God forbid? Kyla stared at her friend.

  “Such aftselakhis I haven’t seen since I was a boy in the old country.”

  Now that one Kyla didn’t recognize. She looked to Rafa
el, but he just shrugged. Apparently he didn’t recognize it either. Fredrik didn’t notice their confusion—either that, or he didn’t care to enlighten them. He just went on.

  “It did this old kvetcher’s heart good. Not happen again? Feh! It will happen again.” Chuckling, he patted her cheek, then turned and headed for the door. “But such entertainment you couldn’t find on television.”

  Kyla stood there, mouth hanging open. Rafael appeared as nonplussed as she felt. They exchanged a look.

  “What was that all about?”

  Rafael shook his head. “I have no idea. But I’ll tell you one thing”—he fell into step beside her as she followed Fredrik out of the sanctuary—“I’m gonna look up aftsela …”

  “Aftselakhis.”

  “Right.” He stared after Fredrik. “That word. I’m gonna find out what it means.”

  “Just be sure you tell me too.”

  “Oh, you can count on it.”

  As they walked the rest of the way in silence, Kyla wished that was all she could count on. But she couldn’t help feeling something else awaited her.

  Trouble.

  In abundance.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Latent in every man is a venom of amazing bitterness,

  a black resentment; something that curses and loathes life,

  a feeling of being trapped, of having trusted and been fooled, of being the helpless prey of impotent rage,

  blind surrender, the victim of a savage, ruthless power that gives and takes away, enlists a man, and crowning injury inflicts upon him the humiliation of feeling sorry for himself.”

  PAUL VALERY

  “Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God. Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many.”

  HEBREWS 12:15

  See? I told you there was trouble.”

  He watched King K step forward, studying the three people exiting the church. Three people seemingly determined to make his life difficult. They’d have to pay for that.

  All of them.

  “So this lady”—King nodded toward Kyla Justice with his chin—“she’s someone who can help them?”

  Such menace in the question. In the gaze King kept trained on the good Ms. Justice. Ah, manipulation. It was a thing of beauty. “She’s eminently qualified—” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry. Very qualified.”

  The second King K turned to him he knew he’d made a tactical error.

  “I know what eminently means.” Those dark eyes narrowed. King’s menace was now aimed squarely at him. “What? You see the way I live, you just assume I’m stupid?”

  He kept his gaze down. “No, of course not. I know you’re intelligent. A stupid man could never lead people the way you do. I simply didn’t want to seem pompous in my word choices.”

  “Yeah, well, too late for that.”

  He forced a smile to his face. “Indeed. But as I was saying, Ms. Justice is a contractor, one of the best. If anyone can pull this job off for the church, she can.”

  King K’s gaze swung back to Kyla Justice, who was getting into her car. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

  He let himself smile, create a sense of camaraderie. “Indeed, not.”

  “It’s done.”

  The finality of that surprised him. “How can you be sure?”

  “Hey. I said it’s done.”

  He considered pushing but decided it wouldn’t serve his purposes to aggravate his volatile associate further. That, and the awareness that somewhere on his person King K harbored a knife. Inclining his head, he turned to go back to his own car. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “You do that.”

  The young man’s glib tone set his teeth grinding. How he longed for the day when he wouldn’t have to put up with this street scum any longer. As soon as he had his way, he’d be on the phone to the police. He’d turned a blind eye to the thefts from his warehouses, but only for so long as he needed the gang.

  His lips twisted in a smile. King K and his like were finished.

  They just didn’t know it yet.

  King K watched the rich fool drive away. Man was gettin’ on his nerves. Yeah, he was good for business. But once this was over, once he and his crew had their payoff, King and the rich man were gonna dance.

  “I’m sorry. Very qualified.”

  Like King had never heard eminently before. Yeah, well, no one treated him like an idiot and walked away from it.

  No one.

  He turned back toward the church and the more immediate concerns. No one was moving in on them either. He’d tried to make that clear. Tried to show the old folks they needed to stop. Ballat’s man did his part, messin’ up the orders and stuff. King and the 22s, they took care of makin’ sure that old saying “Accidents happen” came true. A lot. And then, finally, they set the fire.

  King shook his head. These old guys were like that stupid rabbit with the battery in his back that never quits.

  Well, time was up. Them thinkin’ they could just keep pushin’, just keep bringin’ people in to help, that had to end.

  Now.

  He turned and sauntered down the alley.

  Yeah. It was time to show the church folks that he and his crew, they’d do whatever it took to protect their turf.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “Only two things are certain: the universe and human stupidity—and I’m not certain about the universe.”

  ALBERT EINSTEIN

  “Give me an understanding heart.”

  1 KINGS 3:9

  Rafe poured himself another cup of coffee. “It was like I was a crazy man.”

  “Rafa, tell me something, okay?”

  He stirred thick rich cream into his coffee. “What?”

  “¿Por que un hombre no puede ser guapo e inteligente a la vez?”

  His spoon stopped midstir. What did that have to do with anything? He looked at his sister. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just answer the question, porfa.”

  Rafe took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know, Livita. Why can’t a man be both good-looking and intelligent?”

  “Porque entonces sería mujer.”

  Because then he’d be a woman.

  The thought of tossing his coffee on her drifted through his mind, but he dismissed it. He’d just have to clean up the mess himself. And though they had a break in customers right now, they likely didn’t have long until things got busy again.

  “Very funny, Livita. But not much help.”

  “Actually, it is. You’re all upset because you acted a lo loco with this woman. But Rafa, men, they have trouble thinking straight when things aren’t right with a woman. You come to a meeting with Fredrik, and there she stands. In a place you know she isn’t safe. So what do you do?” She waved one hand in the air. “You get angry. Say things a cretino wouldn’t say. And so? She’s angry too. Todos are angry, and nobody’s talking.”

  He was all set to argue, but the words died on his lips. She was right. The second he saw Kyla standing there, he’d lost it. Rafe took a long drink of coffee.

  “Am I right?”

  He hated admitting it, but … “You’re right.” He shot her a glare. “¿Aqui entre nos, entiendes?”

  She laughed. “You think I want to tell anyone my big, brave Marine brother is afraid of a woman?”

  “I’m not afraid of her.”

  Liv bobbed her head, her long black hair bouncing. “Okay, then, you’re afraid of telling a woman the truth. That you love her with all your soul, verdad?”

  He considered arguing the point but didn’t have the heart. “Verdad.”

  Liv patted his shoulder. “Don’t fear, brother. Love isn’t fatal.” With that, she went back to the counter, leaving him to sit with his thoughts.

  Not fatal, eh? You couldn’t tell it by him. Right now it felt like it was cutting him to pieces. Kyla Justice had been part of his life for as lon
g as he could remember. First as a baby-sitter, who cuddled him and read him stories as he drifted off to sleep. His smile broadened. Ah, the blissful heaven of childhood.

  Then, when Rafe and Annie struck up a friendship, Kyla was his buddy’s older sister. The five-year age difference between him and Annie never seemed to matter much to the two of them. They just liked hanging out together. As for Kyla, he knew she was there, on the fringes of his world, but he never really thought about her that much.

  Then came that fateful day when he saw Kyla—really saw her—for the first time. When he realized she wasn’t just a neighbor, but something beautiful and fine. He’d been outside, playing croquet with Annie. The sun was just beginning to set, and Annie had just beaten him for what was probably the tenth game.

  “You lose, Rafa. I’ll take ice water this time.”

  He tossed her a mock grimace, but he didn’t really mind. It was the rule: losers fetch drinks, and he’d definitely been the loser that day. So he trotted to the house, pulled the sliding-glass door open, went into the kitchen—and the sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks.

  Kyla was there, standing by the sink, looking out the window. The colors of the sunset streamed in through the glass, touching the highlights in her auburn hair with fire, caressing her face with light. It was though she was bathed in gold.

  Eyes closed, soaking in the warmth, she looked so serene, so incredibly beautiful, that it took his adolescent breath away.

  Even now, all these years later, the memory of her that day moved him.

  That was when everything changed. When he could no longer look her in the face, for fear she would recognize his feelings. When he ached to see her, even as he dreaded it. And since Rafe’s family lived a few houses down from the Justice family and Rafe and Annie were pals, he got to see her often. A fact that both delighted and tortured him.

  He had one ally in his struggle: Annie. One look at him as he stared at Kyla, and she knew the lay of the land. Imp that she was, Annie did everything she could to throw Rafe in Kyla’s path. More than once he threatened to pound her, but she’d just grin at him.