Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,20
at the faint glow of the streetlights from the windows in the living room. I step around the stacks of books and flip the lights on, but I’m alone. There isn’t anyone here.
And I have no idea why that upsets me so much.
Maybe I am losing it.
With a sigh, I make my way toward the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea when I notice something off about the room. I study every stack of books, trying to figure out what looks different, but I can’t put my finger on it.
The takeout containers are gone.
I rush to the corner of the table and rub the empty spot with my bare hand. “There was a book here,” I say to myself, knowing that I’m not losing it because I was creating a new stack. My apartment isn’t big enough for all the books I have, so I have to use all the space. I tap the secondhand wood with fingers and grin. “There was a book here.” I squeal. “I knew I wasn’t crazy. He was here! He was here. The man from the bookstore was here. He took my book. Why?” I ask, thoughts drilling my mind a million miles an hour.
And why did he clean my kitchen?
I check the fridge for a note, for something to tell me that it was him who came to see me, but there is nothing. All I have are tingles from my orgasm, a possible flash of his face, and a missing book.
Disappointment crashes through me. What if this is all we will have? What if we don’t even have this and I’m imagining it? What if he listens to Reaper, or if I listen to Reaper, and we never get to know each other because of the rules stamped on us?
“I need to go to bed. I’m obviously losing my mind.” I press my hand against my forehead and forgo the tea. Opening the white cabinet, I reach for another bottle but find my wine gone. “What the fuck?” I curse. “Okay, I know for a damn fact I had another bottle in here.” It’s gone. I slam the cabinet door and reach into the Lazy Susan to grab the whiskey instead. I hate whiskey, but I use it for emergencies, and this seems like an emergency because I’m fucking losing it.
The seal breaks as I twist off the cap. The burning scent has my eyes watering, and I’ll bet my nose hair is singed because holy moly that is strong. I take a swig and immediately spit it out, spewing it all over the books across the table. “Oh my god, who drinks this stuff?” It’s literally burning a hole in my stomach.
Note to self: stick to wine.
I weave my way through the books on the floor and take another swig when I remember I’m alone. I’m always alone. Lonely Daphne in the big sin city all by her little self. It’s what my dad said when I left home, but not in reassurance. He doesn’t think I can make it out here, but he is wrong. Aunt Tina lives around the corner, and while she’s MIA half the time, she loves me and means well.
And that’s more than I have ever had from my father.
I check the lock on the door to make sure that I stay alone for the remainder of the night.
Another thought hits me while I take another awful swig of whiskey, a thought I haven’t considered until this moment.
What if it wasn’t Tongue in my apartment?
“Where the fuck have you been, Tongue?” Reaper asks as soon as I walk through the front door. I’m holding a bottle of wine I stole from Daphne’s apartment and a book in the other hand.
I had the best night of my life. What I shared with Daphne, I’ve never had with anyone else before. I don’t want Reaper to ruin it for me, but it’s Reaper. He’s our Prez. I have to listen to him, but I have a feeling if he says anything to me about Daphne, listening is the last thing I will do.
“I was out,” I state, simply, eyeing the guys who are sitting around on the couch at nine in the morning. I might have left Daphne’s apartment, but I stayed outside until she went to work. I hate that I have to take my eyes off her for one minute, but the club is my family. They are my home.