Free The Token 7: Thorn (A Token Novel) by Marata Eros Page A

the back of his head, and my left knee meets his nose.
    It splits like a ripe cantaloupe.
    I hesitate as he staggers backward.
    Do it, Simone.
    I choke back a guttural sob of advance remorse. Women are supposed to give life, not take it.
    I suck in a breath. It's me or them.
    I don't have room for a kick. I flat palm the heel of my hand into his wrecked nose, driving the shards of cartilage into his brain.
    He spasms.
    Gorge rises. I stifle it.
    Not done yet.
    I hit the throat a second time with my bare hand.
    Powerfully.
    Finally.
    His head rocks back and he falls like a tree that's been cut.
    His body slams on the floor with a thud that echoes in the apartment.
    I straighten. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply of the death I created, I hear no movement.
    Then a sound reaches me from down the hall. Like a cat, I spin toward that small noise, my hackles rising.
    Thorn moves into the doorway at the end of the gangplank of a corridor, a gun naked in his hand.
    Fuck.
    I can't kill him.
    I'm too deep in to play the victim. I can't tell him the truth.
    Lies won't do.
    For the first time in years, I don't know how to handle this mess.
    My eyes flick to bad guy number one. He still isn't moving from his spot on the bathroom floor.
    The priorities of survival float to the surface like cream in milk.
    Emergency duffel.
    Ignoring Thorn, I pivot and dive for my closet.
    Tearing it open, I grab a compartmentalized black duffle.
    It has all that I need. I breathe a sigh of relief that Shepard’s dogs didn't sniff it out. It would cripple me.
    I jerk it out of the closet, my eyes sweeping the room. They land on my assailant for a moment then move on.
    The cops will want to know how this happened. Thankfully I have no record in either system, and the name on the apartment lease is false.
    As is the name I go by now.
    Simone Balland is one of several aliases, but it was my favorite. It'll have to go away. Part of it comes from my family.
    Not that I think about where I come from. Ever.
    Thorn is moving down the hall. “Are you okay?”
    I nod.
    His hand grips the door jamb of the bathroom.
    Feet dangle out into the hall.
    He crouches, feeling for a pulse. “He's alive.”
    Thorn stands, his frame so large he dwarfs the hall. His dark skin blends into the shadows. His expressive eyes seek my face.
    He's a beautiful man.
    I want him.
    We always want that which we cannot have.
    Thorn's gaze shifts to the intruder at my feet.
    I scoop up my keys with the baton.
    Our eyes notice the blood at the same time.
    “I've seen a few dead bodies in my time, Simone,” Thorn says. It strikes me as odd phrasing.
    I have too.
    “Yes?”
    He doesn't respond. We stare at each other over the body.
    I need to get out of here and run.
    Again.
    Thorn holds out his hand, palm up.
    I stand there for a full minute, staring at what he offers.
    His hand never wavers, trembles, or disappears.
    Tears that haven't been shed in a decade scatter my vision of his unspoken offer like fairy dust thrown on water.
    His flesh wavers like a mirage.
    Maybe it's not real.
    I move my hand out, seeking.
    I touch his, and he grips my hand, engulfing mine.
    He pulls me over the corpse and into his arms.
    I shake my head. “I can't.”
    Then I bawl. I sob as I never have before. I'm so tired of this life.
    Scared.
    So filled with empty I'm frozen in place.
    “Thorn's here,” he murmurs against my temple, his big body covering mine as I shake with sorrow against him.
    He wraps all my hair into his fist and presses my face against his chest so tight I can't move.
    I’m not frightened.
    I feel safe. Selfish.
    Right.

13
    Thorn
     
    “'Kay, are we just a couple of fools, or what?” Kiki asks over the blaring music.
    Maybe. I look at where Shepard just exited then where Simone had stood behind me.
    The mystery shrouding Simone deepens, and I can't have this shit. My emotional rocker is in tough shape. Even I have to admit that.
    My mom just died.
    Bio-dad needs to be found. He has