Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,46

her plump lips spread into a wicked grin. She dusts off her hands. “All in a day’s work.”

“You’re horrible,” I mouth from inside the car.

She shrugs, uncaring, and walks around to get into the driver’s seat. That’s when my eyes catch a sea of black entering the hospital. I sit forward, staring straight ahead to see if I can recognize any of the men, but all I see before the automatic doors close is the skull.

“What is it? Did you forget something?” Aunt Tina asks as she starts the car by pressing a single red button.

“No, I just thought I saw someone I knew. It’s nothing.”

“Oh, okay. As long as you’re sure,” she says as she backs out of the parking space, then puts the car in drive.

I lay my head against the window, the warmth of the sun teasing the glass. It makes me sleepy. The flowers Andrew bought me sit in my lap, and as I stare at them, I wish they were from Tongue.

A man who doesn’t exist.

I rub a rose petal with my thumb, and my brows crease when I see a black card nestled in the roses. That’s not like Andrew. Red and black are too gloomy for him. He’d never choose those colors. He likes muted tones, beige, brown, navy blue, things like that. I pinch it off the tiny piece of clear plastic and open the small envelope. I inch the card out and grin when I see the simple statement.

“I’m always watching you.”

It’s Tongue.

I know it is.

Tucking the card back in the envelope, I shove the sleek, expensive paper in my pocket and let my eyes fall closed. The flowers smell sweeter now that I know they are from Tongue. I’m happier. This makes him real. I’m not imagining him. My psychosis isn’t messing with me. The last episode I can remember having is five years ago where I was speaking incoherently. My aunt couldn’t understand what I was saying, and I pointed to the ceiling, trying to talk about the stars shining, but apparently, that wasn’t what I said.

Psychosis wasn’t always a part of who I was. I used to be normal, but trauma affects everyone differently, and for me, sometimes I lose touch with reality. Sometimes, it isn’t so bad. Whatever my mind decides to conjure up can be a vacation from real life. I’ve never imagined something violent. It’s almost as if I ate a bunch of pot brownies, and my mind goes on a trip.

What’s the trauma?

I wish I knew.

No one seems to know. The doctor says my brain is blocking it out, so I can live a normal life.

If he calls psychosis normal…

The car comes to a slow stop, and in the distance, I think I hear the snarling of a motorcycle, but when I peer over my shoulder to see out of the back window, there’s nothing there.

Nothing ever is.

Nothing ever will be.

Then I stare at the roses and know I have to be wrong.

“Okay, we are here,” Aunt Tina says as she parks in her driveway.

It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I’m still blown away by how large the house is. It’s a Spanish style home, white with dark red shutters. A bunch of cacti lines her sidewalk, and she has a koi pond in her yard since she can’t grow grass. The bench is still there, and I grin knowing my initials are still carved in the wood from when I was seventeen.

“For someone who lives on their own, I still don’t understand the massive house, Aunt Tina.”

“Well, maybe I won’t always be alone. Maybe I’ll have my own harem of hot, sexy men, and they will need rooms, right?” she teases, giving me a wink before she exits the car.

“She’s a mess.” I follow her with my eyes as she rounds the car and opens the door. Her hands are cold as she helps me up and out of the low Lexus. The air is sticky with humidity, and the sun is no longer shining because it has been replaced with gray skies promising rain.

It hasn’t rained in the desert in a while. We need it.

“Come on. Let’s get you set up in bed, and you can get some rest. I need to call the cop who came by the hospital. He said he needed to speak to you. Officer … Hod … something,” Aunt Tina informs me, wrapping her arm around my waist to take the brunt of my