in front of him holding Joey. I shove Patrick aside and his glass of water drops from his hands. It clatters to the ground, spilling water all over his shoes.
“What the fuck, Tongue?” Patrick asks with a hint of annoyance as he wipes his hands on his jeans.
I march toward the sofa and snag Mercy’s wrist from her arm, then bend it back to the edge of a break.
“Ah, fuck!” he screams.
He stands as I yank him to his feet, and when he tries to use his other hand to hit me, I’m too quick with my knife. I slide it out of my sheath and plunge it through the second and third knuckle. I pick him up by his cut and drag him toward the nearest wall. I slide the blade out, uncurl his fingers, then shove the knife in his palm until the tip lodges in the wall. I apply more pressure to sink the knife into the drywall. Blood drips from his hand and down his forearms. That familiar bliss takes over, causing my cock to become half hard.
“Fucking hell, Tongue,” he blows out a painful breath that’s mixed with spit. “Shit, that hurts.”
“Tongue, what are you doing?” Tool wraps his fingers around handle of the knife. I stop him by elbowing him in the gut, then whack him across the cheek when I drive my elbows upward.
“Get the fuck back or I swear to God, I’ll become the monster you all think I am.” Everyone forms a circle around me, but it’s Daphne whose hand sears the middle of my back.
“It’s okay, Tongue. I’m okay,” she reassures me.
My arm starts to shake from stretching his hand too far back. I won’t let go. I don’t care how much pain he’s in. “What the fuck do you want with Daphne?” I ask Mercy, curling my lip as the words leave me on a deep gravel.
“I swear, she’s safe. I am not trying to hurt her.”
“Then why are you looking at her? You stared at her in the bookstore. You stared at her here. She sent me a message. You’re making her uncomfortable. I don’t like it when she is uncomfortable.”
“You’ve been looking at her? In front of Tongue? You’re an idiot,” Slingshot chuckles, and then pulls out said slingshot and launches a Skittle at him. The red round candy smacks Mercy in the middle of the forehead. “You deserved that,” he says, pocketing his weapon. He sends me a wink. “I got your back, buddy.”
“You are dumb,” Tool says, rubbing his jaw.
“I’m staying out of this.” Poodle continues to pet Lady. He is sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of the couch with his beloved dog on his lap.
“She looks familiar, okay? That’s all. That’s why,” Mercy says quickly, grunting through the pain.
I grab the handle of the knife and twist. His screams send a pleasurable stroke down my spine, and I shiver. “Why?”
“I don’t know you,” Daphne says so softly, I can hardly hear her. “I swear, Tongue. I don’t know him. I’ve only seen him around here.”
“I know, Comet. I don’t doubt that.” I twist the handle again. His knees buckle, but the knife keeps him nailed to the wall, and the gravity tugging against his flesh is used against him. More skin tears and more blood pours. “So why?”
“She looks like someone I used to know, okay? She looks like Michelle Douglas, okay? She looks just like Michelle Douglas!” he roars when I twist the knife again.
Daphne inhales, then steps in front of me, her back against my front. No doubt she can feel my hard cock between the crease of her ass. “How do you know my mother?” she asks in a shocked whisper.
“Holy shit,” Poodle repeats the stunned word in my head.
“Damn.”
“Ye knew her mother? Shite, it’s a small world.”
“You knew her mom?” I ask again.
A bead of sweat drips down his temple. He closes his eyes just as I yank the knife from his palm. His arm falls limp to his side and a thick river of blood drips onto my boots. “I didn’t know you were her daughter; I swear. You look so much like her I thought I was looking at her twin. You look so much alike. I’m sorry. I should have been more upfront, but I couldn’t believe it. So many memories of her came rushing back.”
“You knew her,” Daphne sighs in disbelief and awe. “I’ve never met anyone else that has known her. Do