The Token 7: Thorn (A Token Novel) Read Online Free Page B

anyway.

4
    Simone
     
    I take one of the many alternate routes to my small apartment in the seediest part of Seattle.
    I needed that damn job so bad.
    But I don't need a man like Thorn sniffing around like a second hole in my head. I'm lucky I got out of there when I did.
    My brows pull together. Kiki had said Thorn was better than Grady and I should meet with him. Well, I'd been forced to show my hand. I can defend myself, a skill I don’t want others to know I have. When fighting a man that much bigger, the element of surprise is important. In the case of Thorn, it’s critical. And I'll never get a second chance with him.
    He's aware.
     
    I ignore the homeless, whose eyes rest on my striding figure in glazed focus. I'm not complacent. The drunk have pinpoints of hyperawareness that aren’t to be discounted. I'm not going to be on the receiving end of their attention. I avoid eye contact and make a beeline for my apartment building.
    Streetlights deposit pools of light intermittently as I walk, some burnt out, some still hold a bulb that flickers. The sporadic light lands on me like a strobe.
    I hold my keys like a weapon, though the real one is a six-inch long rod of solid stainless steel that serves as a key fob. It's heavy and effective.
    I look right then left, inserting the apartment key into the main entrance and opening it wide. I step into the heavily shadowed vestibule. Initially, what made the apartment building attractive was the anonymity, a double entrance... and it’s cheap.
    I make a novice mistake I haven't made since I left France the second time.
    I move forward without visually sweeping corners.
    He moves in behind me, grabbing my wrist. I spin, bringing the karate weapon down hard on his hand. He grunts, grabs the steel rod, and chucks it against the wall. It stabs the plaster, sticking out like a broken bone.
    I hear it fall and clatter down the stairs to my basement-level apartment. Mine is the only apartment with two entrances.
    Two locks.
    If I can get inside.
    The assailant grabs both of my arms at my elbows, pinning me to his body.
    Tall.
    Size: Big.
    I give myself time for a deep breath—centering.
    I whip my head back, hitting his chin.
    He howls and releases me.
    I duck low, coming in for the crotch with my knuckles poised for a precision strike.
    He takes me by surprise, meeting me at knee level in a mirror of my crouch.
    Thorn.
    I hesitate.
    He moves in. “Stop! Fuck ... it's me!”
    “I know!” I shout without stopping. My training takes me forward in unconscious follow-through.
    Then he's pinning me to the wall, my wrists above my head. I move my knee into central position.
    I don't know what the fuck is going on.
    The side of his hip comes between my legs, immobilizing my body. I blew my opportunity by thinking, the kiss of death in hand to hand.
    I know better. I squirm, trying to break his hold on my wrists.
    No good. He's got a two-handed hold.
    I glare into his dark face.
    His chest is heaving, his eye tight with the damage I meted. “I won't hurt you.”
    “Clearly!” I yell.
    He slams me against the wall, my knotted hands behind my head as it bounces off them.
    “Stop,” he growls.
    I'm so frustrated, tears of anger course down my cheeks. I want to lash out, but I'm helpless. I don't want to revisit those feelings that bring instant anguish.
    My eyes move to the wound on his mouth. Sutures stick up in clear spikes.
    Good.
    His lips flatten into a grim line before his eyes flinch from the tenderness.
    “If I let you go are you going to chop my nuts off?”
    “Maybe.”
    He gives a harsh exhale. “I came by to explain some shit to you, and you go all Rambo on my ass.”
    I nod, but I want to slam my head into his again. “That's what I always do when men I don't know charge me from behind.”
    Thorn gets a sheepish expression. It looks out of place on his face. “I didn't think you'd talk to me if I called or texted. Hell, I didn't think you'd talk to me if I stopped