Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,30
emergency?” the operator asks.
“Someone is in my apartment,” I whisper, taking my hand away from my mouth. “I have a note that was left in my purse too. I think someone is watching me.” Is it Tongue? He did say he is always going to watch me, but I don’t see him doing something like this. He wouldn’t scare me.
“Someone broke into your apartment. Is anything damaged or missing?” they ask.
I lay my palm flat against the door and push it open, hoping to see nothing. My hand reaches inside and pats against the wall in an uncoordinated way. I flip the light switch, and my hand slides across something wet.
I stare at the red liquid on my hand, and the breath is knocked out of me. “Oh my god.” I follow the line of blood across the wall. It looks like something was dragged.
“Ma’am? What is it? Are you okay?” the operator asks.
I don’t respond. I follow the trail of blood, and what I see has the phone falling from my hand.
There’s a tongue nailed on the trim of the window, dripping blood on the stack of books beneath it.
I scream at the top of my lungs and forget I have blood on my hands, smearing it across my cheek. I inhale a deep breath and scream again.
“Help is on the way, ma’am. I’ll stay on the phone with you until the police arrive.”
Reaper’s warning about Tongue is a siren in my head, and doubt starts to creep in. What if I’ve been obsessed with a monster this entire time? What if he’s been staying away, not because I make him nervous, but because he’s hunting me.
Holy moly.
I really need to evaluate my taste in men.
I run out the door and hurry down the steps, leaving the bloodstained apartment as fast as I can. I trip over my left foot and fall, tumbling down the staircase. My knee hits the solid hardwood that makes the steps, and my wrist bends in a funny position. When I get to the floor, the momentum of my body can’t be stopped, and my head slams against the wall.
Groaning, I hold my arm against my chest as the door bursts in.
“Vegas Police Department!” one of them shouts. “Hey, I need a medic over here now! Ma’am, are you okay? Do you know your name? What happened?” he asks.
“I fell down the steps,” I moan when I roll to my back. “Trying to get away from the blood.” I wince when I try to move my knee, so I keep it in a bent position instead.
“An ambulance is on its way. You’re going to be fine, Ms. Lace,” he reassures me.
“You’re going to want to see this, Officer Hodder,” another cop says from the middle of the staircase.
Paramedics burst through the door and then quickly and load me onto a gurney and strap a brace around my neck. Is this really happening? Did I seriously fall down the steps because there is a tongue nailed to the windowsill? This can’t be my life. If this is what living is like, how the hell do I slow it down? Aunt Tina jinxed me.
The paramedics roll me outside, and my vision starts to blur. The sun is too bright, and my head starts to pound.
“Wait!” Officer Hodder, the cop who comforted me, runs out the front door to stop the medics from loading me in the ambulance.
“We need to get her to the hospital now. She has a concussion,” the female paramedic says with a bit of attitude.
“Hey, Ms. Lace.” Officer Hodder leans down in front of my face, and there are two of him. I blink, trying to focus, but it doesn’t work. He’s mid-thirties, handsome, normal.
A guy I should date. And why am I thinking about that right now and not the disgusting tongue dangling in front of my window?
“Can you think of anyone who wanted to do this? Has anything been suspicious over the last few days? Anything at all.”
“You can question her later.”
“I need to ask her while she has her damn eyes open, Reynolds. Lay off,” he snaps at the woman trying to help me. It’s obvious they don’t like each other. “Ms. Lace. I’m sorry, but can you think of anyone?” he asks me again, softening his voice.
I should tell them about Tongue. Everything points to him, but I don’t say anything. My instincts, no matter how crazy they are, tell me he has nothing to do with this.