Tongue's Target (Ruthless Kings MC Las Vegas #10) - K.L. Savage Page 0,51

you know a lot about her? How did you know her?” I can hear the pain in her voice.

“Did? What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?”

Mercy glances at everyone in confusion before landing on Daphne. “No, what do you mean?”

“She died when I was eight,” she admits, sadly.

Mercy’s face falls. Any hope of seeing his old friend again fades; the color in his cheeks changes to a pale white. “She died? How? What? No.” Mercy shakes his head. “No, that’s not how it was supposed to be,” he mumbles, eyes glossing over.

“She killed herself.”

Mercy’s head snaps up to stare at her and shakes his head, tears forming but not falling. His eyes are stern, and his lips are pressed in a thin line. “That woman was a lot of things, but she would never kill herself. Ever!” he yells at Daphne. She jumps back, slamming against my front. I place the knife against his throat in warning and he gives me a small nod. “I knew her back when we were just teens, Daphne. The woman was life. No way in hell would she kill herself, and I’m going to find out the truth to make sure you know.”

I don’t think she killed herself either, but Daphne is certain her dreams aren’t real.

Mercy squints his eyes and bobs his head as he checks Daphne up and down. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” Daphne answers.

Mercy seems horrified. “I need to go.”

“Wait, no! You knew her. I have questions. I hardly remember her. Please.”

“I can’t,” he says, his tone full of regret. “I’m sorry. I need to go. I have… I have questions you can’t answer.”

“I might,” she pleads. “I’m begging you, Mercy. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I press my knife against his throat, warning him he better tell Daphne everything she wants to know.

“You want to kill me? Go ahead. I don’t have answers. Not yet. I need to figure it out and when I do, I’ll come back, and I swear I’ll answer all your questions. Daphne, I swear.” His aching hand, the one that’s not bleeding, touches her cheek. “God, you look so much like her.”

I see now he isn’t looking at her like a lover would, but like a father would a daughter.

That’s impossible, considering we know who Daphne’s father is. Mercy has answers, though.

“Yeah?” Daphne’s on the verge of breaking with how her voice trembles.

“Yeah, kiddo. It’s uncanny.” Mercy drops his hand, breaking the intimate contact, and starts to walk away. Whistler, who was standing near the pool table quietly, follows him. “I’ll be back, okay? I’m sorry. For her death. She was too young.”

“I’m sorry too.” Daphne closes the space between them and hugs him, wrapping her small arms around Mercy’s neck. “You obviously cared for her.”

“Cared?” Mercy’s eyes shut as he pats Daphne’s back. “I loved that woman,” he admits. “I loved her more than the—”

“Bees love honey?” Daphne finishes for him, pulling away and staring at him with curiosity.

He mirrors the same expression. “How’d you know that?”

“It’s something she always used to say to me when she tucked me in at night.”

Mercy’s brows rise and his eyes turn red. He stares at his boots and coughs, clearing his throat. “I used to tell her that all the time. I’m sorry, I need to go.” Without another word, he holds his arm to his chest and hurries out the door.

“No! Wait. Who are you?” Daphne screams in desperation for answers, for anything, but Mercy heads out the door.

Whistler gives a sad half smile. “It will all be okay. Mercy is the best at finding the right answers. He doesn’t want to answer any questions without doing significant research. He’ll be back.”

Everything Daphne needs to know is gone when the door closes. Everyone is silent, everyone is staring at us in shock.

“I… I’m going to clean the blood off the floor,” Daphne says in a daze. “Don’t want it to stain.”

“Daphne, I’ll clean the blood, go take a bath,” I tell her, not asking if she wants to, but telling her she has to.

“I’m fine.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and I wipe it away, then bring it to my lips like I always do and kiss it clean.

“You aren’t. You just met someone who knew your mom. Go, Comet. I made this mess, I’ll clean it up.”

“Thank you.” She stands on her tip toes and kisses my left cheek. When her lips are gone, the skin burns, as if she’s poured kerosene on me and lit a