The Token 7: Thorn (A Token Novel)

by Eros, Marata

  Only his pale skin and soulless eyes speak of their differences.

  Shepard closes his eyes. “I know.”

  Roi moves in, and I smile. He says, “You can't win against me.”

  “Then I'll die trying, you murderer.”

  “Sticks and stones, my lovely Juliette. I will do more than beat you. I will break you.”

  Shep begins to move forward.

  “Do not think it, my little Shepard. I have given you your leave to keep this one all to yourself. But she lost the sanctuary you provided when she chose to leave our nest.”

  I search for weaknesses. Though Roi must be nearing fifty, his body is rock solid. He expects perfect physical condition in his employees. Combative readiness.

  He expects it most of himself.

  *

  Thorn

  We pull up to the airport and disengage our lights.

  I pop out of my car, and so does Tag. We look around.

  Something doesn't seem right. Too quiet.

  Tag gestures toward the sliders. “Shouldn't she be milling around on her cell in the lounge area?”

  The place is a ghost town.

  I nod slowly.

  I have an idea. “She might be in the private lounge.”

  Tag looks again. “I don't like it.”

  My head swivels toward him. “Why?”

  He shrugs, moving his neck as though to release tension. “I don't know, dude. Feels wrong.”

  Good enough for me.

  We pull our guns at the same time.

  He sweeps his eyes to my weapon. “Same thing?”

  I think about my growing gut feeling. “Yeah.”

  “Hang on.” Tag makes a quick call, then we move in, sliding along the wall.

  I hear a distinctive noise.

  Flesh being slapped.

  Then a feminine noise. The deliberate stifling of a whimper.

  Tag's arm is across my chest. He shakes his head.

  I didn't realize I’d moved.

  I know it's Juliette.

  But I nod at Tag, and we wait, listening.

  I've never wanted to move more than I do during those three minutes of conversation.

  Finally Tag gives me the signal, and we go through the door. I know who I'll face. It's the most important turning point in my life. I’m meeting my nemesis.

  As I see her face, I know something has eclipsed my revenge.

  *

  Juliette

  I gulp when I see his erection. He laughs in delight when I realize his intent.

  “I won't let you rape me,” I say through my teeth.

  “Let is not part of the equation, Juliette.” The King’s face darkens. “Allowance is no longer afforded you. Shepard cannot keep you safe. I will take you until you beg. Then I will take you more.”

  Shepard makes a strangled noise.

  A small sound of air moving causes me to look toward the door.

  “No one is taking shit,” a low voice says, filling the room.

  Commanding it.

  A thrill courses through my body like electrical current.

  Thorn.

  Roi surges into my space, and I strike the soft underside of his jaw with my knuckles.

  He's so fast. I have only that thought before he wraps his arms around me like a pretzel, jerking me against his chest.

  His body fits against me like Thorn's, and I cry out at the injustice of genetics. All that strength will be used against me in violence instead of the vicious tenderness Thorn uses to bring me tighter to him.

  Thorn's eyes meet mine.

  A man I don't know follows closely behind him, gun drawn.

  My eyes zero in on the barrel. That black endless circle of metal bearing down on Roi.

  On me.

  “Thorn,” I say in a miserable voice. The voice of a broken female I've never been in my life.

  His eyes flick back to mine from scanning the room for hidden dangers.

  The answer's in them. He'll die to save me.

  “You have no jurisdiction here, cop.” Roi's smug voice teases Thorn.

  Thorn will not teased.

  “Diplomatic immunity—there is nothing you can do.” Roi turns my face and gives the wounded side a long lick.

  I squirm, trying to get away.

  Roi’s eyes find Thorn again. “However, you may watch as I break one of my whores.”

  “I don't think so, Dad,” Thorn says.

  Roi's body stiffens.

  I try to move away, but he clutches me tighter.

  They look at each other as the seconds swell to a minute. I see an arrogant smile wash over his face from the corner of my eye.

  His palm captures my jaw. He jerks it from left to right. “She is beautiful, even wounded, no?”

  My eyes plead with Thorn. I hate Roi’s hands on me. I hate what he's done to the man I love.

  “She is mine,” Thorn says and charges.

  “Thorn! No, fuck!” the other man cries and lunges after him.

  Roi’s hand slides to my neck and squeezes.

  I gasp.

  “I will break her neck. This fragile bird so many men care about.”

  He seems to pause thoughtfully as Thorn circles us.

  Thorn’s tats are like stripes of anger that cradle his face, slithering into the crevices of his open shirt.

  His forearms bunch in readiness.

  “Or we can share in the breaking of this one,” Roi offers.

  Thorn grins like a shark. It’s the only time he reminds me of Roi.

  “You're a sick fuck,” Thorn says in French.

  Roi laughs from his belly.

  “I know who you are,” Roi states conversationally.

  I wait.

  The room holds its breath.

  “Your mother was a good lay,” he clucks.

  Thorn makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. Anguished.

  Roi watches him closely. Thorn doesn't rise to the bait.

  “I see your face go soft when you look at our Juliette. You love her.”

  Thorn doesn't answer.

  His eyes do.

  Roi nods. “You might love her less if you understand she belongs to another.”

  I struggle in earnest then. Thorn can't learn this way.

  Not this.

  Thorn moves forward as I bite down on Roi's arm, and Roi hits me again.

  I stagger and fall into Thorn's arms.

  He drags me against him, cradling me like a precious package. My consciousness is fuzzy around the edges. I’ve been hit too many times.

  Roi strikes a pose, his finger moving to his jaw.

  “Shepard?”

  I see the stranger’s gun move toward the silent Shepard.

  “Tell the good policeman and my wayward relative who Juliette belongs to.”

  Shepard raises his chin and shoots his gaze at Thorn like a laser.

  I close my eyes in a grief so absolute, it steals my thoughts. Nothing is left but my lost hope.

  “Juliette is my bride.”

  Thorn's hands convulse around my arms.

  He turns me to face him, and my head falls back. He captures my head in his palm gently.

  I can't look away.

  Betrayal is all I see.

  Roi reaches behind his back and raises a gun as Thorn curves his body around mine.

  An explosion sounds from behind us.

  Deafening—complete.

  Roi pivots, his arms flung out as he spins like a marionette whose strings have just been cut.

  Blood flies in an arc that hits Shepard's face.

  He blinks at me, then he’s gone.

  “Stop where you are!” the man who shot Roi bellows.

  Thorn keeps looking at me.

  I close my eyes against what I see in his face.

  Sirens are close, wailing their song of protection.

  I feel Thorn lift me.

  Though he's all around me, I know he’s no longer there.

 
Hope flees, and along with it, my heart.

  26

  Thorn

  People in white swarm around me like bees. I fight against swatting them away. My irritation has its own zip code.

  “We were lucky, so lucky,” Tag says.

  It's been hours since Juliette was admitted to the hospital. She's been cleaned, dressed, and questioned.

  That prick Shepard is missing.

  Her husband.

  Roi... my father, and the slow murderer of a dozen women, is dead.

  It should feel final. Vindication is finally mine.

  Instead, I feel as if a giant came along with an ice cream spoon and scooped out my guts as I lay gasping for air.

  “We won't get nailed, Thorn. They've been looking for this guy for fucking years.”

  Tagger shot him, so he's on a little vacation like I was. Not because he did anything wrong. It was defensible, totally. But that's the way it works. Somebody dies by a cop’s hand, and you're a cop... an internal inquiry begins to turn its ugly wheels.

  My DNA is being matched to Roi’s. Normally, we'd be waiting for two weeks, but with a foreign national involved, it'll be a rush job. I don't think my undercover career can survive this scandal. The best we can do is keep it off Mick's ass. The blood bath happened where his jet is kept, so the media will be all over him again.

  I look through the glass and just make out the top of her head. Ink spills over her white pillow. My palm makes a print on the window.

  I move away before she sees me.

  Tag jogs to keep up with me. “Whoa, Thorn. You're just going to leave, buddy?”

  I pivot, and he bumps into me.

  “Here's the thing... she fucking did the stiletto tap dance on my chest.” I clench my hand and bring it to my chest. “She sucked the life outta Thorn.” I swirl my hand over my heart. “He's in there somewhere but right now—no oxygen, ya dig?”

  Tag nods, his eyes kinda buggy. “I do.”

  “Good.” I burst through the double glass doors of the hospital’s entrance and suck in a lungful of moist Seattle air. I turn around.

  Tag's still there.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Thorn—” he begins in a soothing voice.

  “Uh-uh.” I wave away his words like a tick trying to bite my ass.

  “Come on, dude. Give her a chance to explain!”

  I whirl around and our noses almost touch. “There's nothing to explain. She played me. I'd go to the ground for her.” My eyes feel dry and tight, like they want to burst. “I did.”

  I walk away before I fucking cry like some pussy.

  I swipe my cheeks as I move to my screaming red car. Matches my mood.

  I ignore the water on my hands.

  *

  Juliette

  “Okay, you're so telling Kiki what happened,” Kiki says.

  I sigh, pulling on my low-slung combat-style boots. I take my time lacing them, not looking at Kiki.

  “Where the eff is Thorn?”

  I still don't say anything.

  “Juliette, ya better look at me or I'm gonna blow a circuit!”

  I look up, and Kiki gasps, stepping back. She says, “Who the fuck messed up your face?”

  I grab my purse and move through my hospital room door.

  She follows.

  “Juliette! Stop, you pain in the ass!”

  Ignoring her, I slap open the hospital’s main doors, wincing at the pain. It's phantom pain. Don't know where I got it, just have it after a fight.

  She runs in front of me and grabs my elbows. My face pinches.

  She latches onto the spot where that old guy grabbed me, and it hurts.

  “What? God... what's going on?” Kiki lightens her grip, and I relax. “Tagger, that insensitive doofus, calls me and asks if I'll pick you up, Mick won't answer one question, and Thorn won't pick up his phone!” Her eyes search me from head to toe. “And a gang of goddamned gnomes beat your ass. What. The. Hell. Happened?”

  I blow out my frustration. “I lied to Thorn.”

  “You mean lie-lie? Or white lie or...?”

  “Lie by omission.”

  “Kinda like white lie then?” Kiki bites her lip.

  I plunge. “I'm married to Shepard.”

  Kiki cringes.

  That's very much the reaction I would have. I move around her, looking for a cab.

  My dead heart still beats.

  I raise my hand when I see a yellow cab.

  “How could you be married to that a-hole? He screwed you over! Tell me it isn't true!” she pleads with me.

  “It's true.”

  The cab stops, and I turn, giving Kiki my full attention. “You've been so good to me. I'm so sorry.”

  Kiki puts her hands on her head. “This can't be happening. It's like a goddamned nightmare.”

  The cabbie honks, and Kiki scowls at him.

  “Don't go,” she begs. “I know there's something reasonable in this mess. Please tell me—I'm a good listener.”

  I hold my eyes open, but the tears still fall.

  Kiki steps into me, grabbing my hands. “Don't go, Simone—Juliette, whatever!”

  “You go now!” the cabbie shouts through the open passenger-side window.

  I turn. He's Iranian. I tell him to fuck off in Farsi.

  Kiki bursts out laughing, and I do too.

  “I don't have to speak the language to know that one,” she says.

  The driver swears, his wheels squealing as he roars off.

  “Can't stay classy, can ya?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Come on, us tacky broads have to stay together.”

  *

  One week, one hour, thirty-seven minutes, and a breath of seconds since I've seen Thorn.

  I wrap my arms around my knees, the borrowed pajamas soft against my skin.

  It's two a.m., and here I sit. Insomnia—again.

  I look at the letter for the tenth time. Registered mail from France. The postage is old. Many times it's been delivered and forwarded.

  Finally it has found me.

  The freedom I should feel is hollow.

  The divorce decree is legitimate. Shepard is no longer my husband.

  He was trying to give me a gift. Somewhere in all that callous packaging, he loved me.

  Enough to let me go.

  But the man I really love, who I chose—he won't have me.

  Everyone has tried to contact Thorn.

  He's not answering. Gone like a ghost.

  Thorn haunts me.

  I hear a door open and close, and my heart rate ticks up. Who could be here?

  The police have taken care of everyone involved. They arrested my father, who lives in the US, for the human slave trade of his own daughter. Shepard is still on the loose, but the real evil has been expunged.

  Roi is no longer King.

  The dead can't rule.

  A soft knock comes at my bedroom door and I look up, startled.

  Kiki comes in and closes it tightly. Her eyes have lost the vestiges of sleep. Her palms flatten on the wood.

  “He's here,” she says.

  My heart lurches. “Who?”

  “Jesus—Thorn. Duh.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  Kiki rolls her eyes. “Find out, fool!”

  She steps away from the door, and Thorn enters.

  He's so beautiful I want to cry. This man who was tortured as a boy. I want to dump myself into his arms, but I know that's not the way to fix things between us.

  He glances at Kiki.

  She leaves.

  He and I stare at each other. His presence fills the room, overwhelming me.

  Thorn crosses his arms. “I'm listening.”

  “It's two in the morning.” I instantly want to kick myself.

  He shrugs, and I watch his muscles like a starving animal.

  “Can't sleep,” he says.

  I feel my cheeks warm. “I can't either.”

&nb
sp; Silence hangs between us.

  “I—Thorn.” I hang my head. “Shepard married me to keep me from Roi. He tastes all the new girls, and Shepard knew that if he was my husband, Roi would respect that. He wouldn't have me.”

  I don't look up. I can't.

  “I'm sorry,” I whisper. “So sorry.”

  His arms come around me, and my nose fills with the sharp scent of soap, his light cologne, and him.

  Gradually, my arms go around him.

  “I know.”

  His voice rumbles against my chest.

  I pull away, and his fingertips touch my face lightly. He traces the healing bruise on my face.

  “What do you know?”

  “What I need to,” Thorn says, his eyes glittering down at me.

  I search his face in the gloom. “What do you know?”

  Thorn smiles. “That you're never going to be married to anyone.”

  My eyebrows pop.

  “But me,” he finishes.

  My heart stops.

  “You can't know... I mean—”

  His finger stops my protest. “Thorn knows.”

  I shake my head

  He nods. “I've always known.”

  “Known what?” Breathe, Juliette.

  “That the wait is over. It's finally fucking over.”

  He's lost me. What wait?

  My face scrunches, and Thorn smooths the pucker between my brows. He trails his thumb over my eyebrow and down my face. It stops at my collarbone, and he wraps his hand around my shoulder, kneading it. A little moan escapes before I can stop it.

  His eyes darken from that one noise.

  “The wait for what?” I ask.

  He presses me to him, all of him against all of me. My eyes close, and my tears soak his shirt. Neither of us move.

  “The happy, Juliette,” he says against my hair.

  “I've found the happy, and it's you. It's always been you.”

  He's no longer speaking in third person.

  Thorn is finally him.

  The End

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