Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,85
has to be promoting him or some shit.”
They glance toward the ceiling when a loud pounding knocks on the front door. The dogs bark and Juliette’s voice is muffled from the planks between the basement and the living room. I stare at Tool who is smiling just from hearing her and before I would have called him crazy, but now I get it.
I’d do anything to hear Daphne’s voice one more time.
“I guess he is already here. I wish people would say that instead of saying, ‘Hey, I’m on my way’ when really they mean, ‘Hey, I’m here.” Badge stuffs his phone back in his pocket and stands there, still.
Reaper’s head bobbles for a second, staring at Badge like what the hell is he doing and says, “Well, are you going to go answer the damn door?”
“It is answered.”
“Badge, go get Mercy and see what he has.”
“He can find his way down. It isn’t hard.”
Tool snorts and twists the screwdriver behind his ear. Reaper laughs, grabs my knife that’s on the counter and throws it at Badge. It lands right in the material of his shirt above his shoulder, nailing him to the wall.
“I’m really sick of being tested. My patience is gone.” Reaper stalks up to him and grips the handle of the knife, flicking the edge so it cuts the shirt. “I beg someone to argue with me again for the rest of the night and see what the fuck I do. Just see.” Prez points the knife over Badge’s chest and gives him a wicked snarl. “It’s been too long since I’ve felt a heartbeat in my hand. Do you catch my fucking drift, Badge?”
Badge gulps and nods.
“Great. Now, go get Mercy. Let’s get Daphne back so Tongue can get his fucking crazy on and we can all get back to normal. Okay?”
“Yes, Prez.” Badge starts to walk away, and the basement door opens, heavy boots clonk, and I know it’s Mercy finding his way down. Badge was right, but we aren’t going to question Reaper when he is about to snap.
Sarah wipes her cheek and turns her back toward me, and a large part of me dies knowing she’s mad at me. She’s right. Everything she said about me was right, but I can’t admit that.
Yet.
“Mercy, please tell me that the package is a snow globe your sister sent you,” Reaper unlocks a small mini-fridge next to the staircase and takes out a small bottle of whiskey. He opens it, tosses the cap, and chugs the entire bottle down. He notices Sarah crying and grabs another bottle, shuts the fridge with his boot, and sits on the edge of her bed. “Here, Doll. Drink this and sleep.” He tilts her chin up and lays a kiss on her lips. “Everything will be okay.”
She chugs the bottle, then tosses it behind her, and the airplane bottle smacks me right in the face.
The guys snort and Skirt holds out his hand for a high-five and she slaps his palm.
That was just lucky.
Well-deserved, but lucky.
“Uh, no. I don’t have a sister, sorry. So, there isn’t an address on it, but it had a note that said to deliver it to Tongue. So, here, Tongue.” Mercy hands me the box, placing it on my lap. My arm is strapped to my chest due to the wound.
I brush my hands over the ribbon, and I rub the silk, pinching my brows together. I stroke the fibers, playing them like a harp. They are soft, beautiful, and familiar. The rich brown tying the tan paper over the square is something I’ve seen and felt before. A sourness turns my stomach, and I untie the bow, watching the strands fall to the side. The breath that leaves me is broken and devastated as I bring the strands to my nose and inhale. “Oh god,” I tighten my fist around the silk.
“What? What is it?” Slingshot wipes his mouth and sips a coke. The slurping noise breaks me, and I reach over, throw the cup across the room. The top falls off as it slaps against the wall, and ice scatters across the floor.
I shove the brown pieces in his face. “It’s her goddamn hair!” I roar, then stare at every face in the room. “It’s her fucking hair. No,” my voice breaks as I bury my face along her beautiful shiny strands. I inhale, like I did that night she was asleep. The citrus hints has my mouth watering for tangerines. I’m hungry