Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,70
toss my hair over my shoulder and sit down on the ledge of the stage, then hop down, careful to put my weight on my good leg.
Tongue grips the top of the fence with one hand and then hangs his torso down, then stretches an arm out to take the knife that’s still warm with blood.
“I thought you said he was mafia. Doesn’t that mean you’re as good as dead? What were you thinking? You better be glad his goons didn’t shoot you.”
“He knows what he was doing, and I’d like to see him try,” Tongue cackles, then grabs my wrist and yanks me closer to him. I can smell the sweat and see the dirt clinging to his face. “Kiss me.”
“After you win.” I slither out of his hold and the torment and challenge in his golden-brown eyes tell me he is excited about the present he will receive after. I watch him climb up the fence again and jump down on the other side.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up in warning. I’m getting that feeling again, the one that says someone is watching me. I know it isn’t Tongue because the emotion I get is different. The wickedness slides over my skin like an invisible, sexual touch I don’t want. I pretend not to notice and head back to the throne, limping up the steps to sit down. Maximo looks pissed as he holds a silk handkerchief to his shoulder, but he doesn’t make any moves to hurt me.
“I deserved that,” he says through pained huffs. “If I saw a man talking to my woman like that, I would have killed him. I’m glad he didn’t. I’ll have to apologize.” The lights flicker and the crowd goes wild. This must mean it is the start of the show.
I cross one knee over the other and try to relax. I can’t say there isn’t a small part of me that isn’t nervous. Maximo walks to the microphone and a few stragglers come in off the street, dipping under the metal door of the garage.
“Welcome friends. Foes. Tonight, I have a special treat. You’re looking at the most notorious Ruthless King in Vegas. This is a one-time event. You will most likely never see him again. Place your bets. In three minutes we begin.” He steps back from the microphone and sways from the pain in his shoulder. I hold back a laugh.
He deserves it.
“You want your chair back?”
“No. Please, sit.” Something about his smile doesn’t sit right with me, but I ignore it. He has something up his sleeve or maybe I’m pessimistic these days.
The lights strobe again, and I flinch from the quick pace. One of Maximo’s men comes up to him and whispers in his ear.
“Fantastic,” Maximo says. “The first fighter is here.”
The room falls silent as the metal door lifts from the corner, showing a massive man with knots of muscle across his shoulders. I can only see the outline of his body and behind him, rain is falling, hitting the concrete.
I never thought I’d see a man bigger than Tongue, but I should know not to ever be surprised being submerged in this world. I rip my eyes away from the monster and see Tongue pacing the ring, staring at his opponent.
Now, I’m nervous.
I scoot forward on the seat and hold my breath as the lion sized fighter climbs the fence. The chains groan from the heavy weight, and the crowd murmurs. Did they place their bets on Tongue? Are they disappointed? Are we in over our heads?
We should have run away and never looked back. We don’t need anyone but ourselves. Damn it. I could throw up.
Tongue tilts his head up as the man jumps down about to crush Tongue with his weight. My crazy comet doesn’t move. He slings his arm in the air and the body of the knife slides right between the man’s chest. Tongue lets go of the handle and the fighter falls to the ground, chest down, shoving the blade even further.
“Yes!” I whisper and squeal, clapping at his victory, but it isn’t over yet. I cup my mouth with both hands as I watch Tongue circle the giant, who is trying to get up, but can’t. He is on his hands and knees, gasping for air, but can’t breathe because of the waterfall of blood leaving his mouth.
I try to stand, but Maximo holds me down against the seat by grabbing my shoulder. “You