Lust Is the Thorn (14 page)

We studied each other, neither of us moving. After what felt like a million years, I stepped back, shoved my hands into my pockets, and surveyed the empty apartment. “Are you sure I can't buy you a few pieces of furniture? Set up the cable?”

She flipped me off with an angelic smile.

I let out a small laugh. It almost choked me. “Are you going to be okay sleeping alone tonight?”

“Yeah. I'm good.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “All better.”

“And you can wrap your wrist on your own, without my help?”

She glanced down. We'd taken the splint off last night before falling asleep, and she was moving it more comfortably now. “Yup. I'll be fine.”

“Okay.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You're going to do great things here. I just know it.”

Her lower lip trembled, but she bit it and smiled. “Yeah. So you always say.”

“Goodbye, Rose.”

Even though it was only for a day, it felt like more.

It felt like forever.

She pressed her tongue against the back of her lip piercing, staring at me with hollow eyes. “ 'Bye, Thorn.”

Nodding once, I took the stairs two at a time before I could do something stupid. Something like picking her up, carrying her into her bedroom, and making love to her until I forgot all about Mikey and any promises I had made to the church, myself, and God.

Until I made her
mine
.

Three weeks later, while juggling my lunch bag, my purse, the bag with my first “luxury” purchase for my new place, some groceries, and my key, I exited the L without falling flat on my face—so I was calling that a win, thank you very much. Smiling over my shoulder, I watched the L leave and headed for my place with a light step. Over the past three weeks, I'd gotten pretty damn accustomed to living in a nice apartment with a nonleaky roof and a nice job.

I objected at first, sure.

My Gallagher pride had demanded that.

But now that I was living in my empty little apartment by myself, any lingering self-loathing I had felt about accepting Thorn's help was overshadowed by the security I had never once felt in my entire life. All the other times I had had a place like this, it had been because of a guy I was banging, someone I had used for a place to stay. Food. Safety. But this time, it was all mine. Thorn had helped me get it, but it was up to me to pay the bills, and clean it, and care for it.

For the first time, I was on my
own
.

It felt
good
.

Everyone at my new work was super kind and amazing, and no one ever talked down to the girl from Englewood who had no clue what the fuck she was doing in an office with all of them. They taught me my responsibilities with smiles and soft words, and praised me when I caught on quickly. Life had been, for lack of a better word,
perfect
.

I was happy. Comfortable. Feeling like I had a firm grasp on life, and what I wanted out of it. I could spend the rest of my life in this little apartment, living alone, and I'd be totally okay with that. If that's what my life would be, then bring it on. But even though I was okay alone, and even though I was happy, there was no denying one fact—I missed Thorn. A lot. Like…
a lot, a lot
.

During my first week at work, he drove me to the campus every morning and home every afternoon, but after that, I put my foot down. Every moment I spent in his company was a moment that I missed his touch. His laugh. But even more than that, I missed the
him
he'd been when we were alone—the version of him that had gone away the second we stepped out of that lake house. Now that we were back, the morally upright Thorn was back in full force. It was as if that weekend had never happened. As if we'd never kissed or fucked or slept so wrapped up in each other's arms that it was hard to tell where one of us stopped and the other began.

Maybe it was better this way.

It made missing him a little bit easier, because he was like a completely different guy. And if I lay in bed at night and touched myself while pretending it was him—and probably would for the rest of my life—then whatever. That was life. It was full of poor substitutes. My hand was just one of them. And—

Just as I was about to turn the corner to head toward my apartment complex, a man stepped in my path, cutting me off. I stumbled and caught myself before I tripped over his feet. Barely.

“Hey. Watch where you're going—” I glanced up and cut off the rest of my words. I'd recognize those hard brown eyes and thin, dry lips anywhere.

It was
him
. My attacker.

The man smirked and clucked his tongue. He still smelled like booze and cheap cologne, a combination I hadn't forgotten over the past few weeks, no matter how hard I tried. It haunted my dreams. “Well, well, look what we have here. It's a whore, in a church mouse's clothes. Who are you trying to fool?”

I stiffened and tightened my grip on my key, leaving the pointed end hanging out between my knuckles. As far as weapons went, it was the best I had. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”

He grabbed my jaw, his grip tight, and laughed. “I know exactly who you are, just like you know who I am. You're the whore who refused to finish what you started. Last time I went to Kitty Kat's, I heard them talking about how you moved up in the world. Got a job and a new place off Butler Street. I couldn't believe it, until I just saw you sitting on the L, smiling and looking like any other woman. Like you don't owe me.”

“I don't owe you a damn thing, asshole.” I yanked free of him. “
Don't
touch me.”

“I'll touch you in any way I want,
whore
.” He grabbed his junk and squeezed, eyeing me with a perversion that made bile rise in the back of my throat. “And you'll like it.”

“The hell I will. Take your tiny little dick elsewhere. I'm not interested.” I waved a hand dismissively, refusing to let him see how much he scared me. “Go on. Shoo.”

When he reached for me again, missing only because he was too slow, I jumped back and dropped my bags. They hit the ground hard. I took a ragged breath, my pulse racing and the world spinning around me as I focused on him.

On the threat.

I tried to assess the situation coldly and calmly. His eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, and chances were he was high as a kite. That might make my escape a little easier, if I could be quicker than him. “Don't come another step closer.” I held my hand out, the key pointed toward him. “If you do, I swear to God, you'll regret it.”

He laughed that same laugh he had that night. It was still the most chilling laugh I ever heard. “I doubt that.”

Without another warning, he lunged for me. I leapt back and bolted around him, tasting freedom on the tip of my tongue, but he snatched my hair as I passed him, bringing me to a painful halt. He wrapped his fist in it, grinning evilly and yanking even harder. Pain burst over my scalp and brought tears to my eyes, but I gritted my teeth and slashed at his face with the key, making contact with his cheek.

Stumbling back, he covered his cheek with his hand, lowering it and staring at it with surprise when it came back bloody. His fist tightened in my hair, and he snarled,
“You little whore.”

Roughly, he jerked me toward him so hard I lost my balance and fell into him. Letting go of my hair, his hard, dirty hands closed over my arms, and I swallowed the bile that rose. “You son of a bitch, I'll kill—” I cried out, breaking off in midsentence when he pulled harder and grabbed my scalp, tears blurring my sight.

“You're coming with me,” he growled in my ear, his foul breath fanning over my cheeks and nose as he yanked on my hair again.
“Whore.”

I spit in his face. “Fuck you.”

I closed my fist around my key again and hauled it back, ready to poke his fucking eye out with the damn thing, but he easily caught my wrist this time. Cocking his head, he squeezed, increasing his pressure until I was forced to drop it…or lose the use of my arm for a second time. When the key clanged on the sidewalk, his face fell into a deathly calm, the kind that only happened when someone crazy was about to lose their shit. This man was going to kill me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

I was going to
die
.

I punched him again, connecting so solidly with his temple that it felt as if I'd broken every single one of my knuckles, but the dude didn't even flinch. It was
terrifying
. Breathing heavily, I froze, trying to come up with my next attack. When he leaned in, I could kick him in the nuts and dig my fingers into his eye at the same time. Not stop until my fingers were covered in blood.

Slowly, calmly, he looked me up and down, his upper lip lifting in a sick, twisted sneer as blood dripped down his face. “You'll pay for that, you little slut.”

“Let go of her,” I heard Thorn say from behind me. His voice was hard. Harder than I had heard it in years. The last time he'd sounded so cold had been when Bobby Felton grabbed my ass at the summer block party, and Thorn had kicked the shit out of him.
“Now.”

I closed my eyes for a second, relief filling me, but reopened them quickly to focus on my attacker, forcing a grin. “I'd listen to him if I were you.”

“No offense, Father,” the man said, his grip on me tightening. “But this has nothing to do with you. It's just a dispute between me and my girl. Maybe you could go and pray on it for us? That would be great.”

I choked on bile, my stomach churning at the thought of me ever being this guy's
girl
. He was well over forty, balding, fat, and most important, a raping, abusive asshole. I hoped he burned in hell…if there was such a thing. “I'm not—”

“I'll give you three seconds to release her,” Thorn said, tugging on his clerical collar and stepping closer. To the naked eye, he might have looked calm and dignified. But I knew him better than that, and he was seconds from killing this son of a bitch. Some small part of me wanted to let him. “One. Two…”

The man tightened his grip on my hair again. “You can count all you want, but I'm not going anywhere,
Father
. Go back to your Bibles and verses, and leave me the hell alone—”

“Three,” Thorn said calmly.

Without another word, he lifted his arm and punched the stupid asshole in the face. The man stumbled backward and clasped a hand to his nose before throwing himself at Thorn. They went down in a tangle of fists and curses. My attacker got a solid punch in on Thorn, right under his left eye, and then Thorn growled and rolled on top of him. Closing his hands around the fucker's throat, he squeezed till the guy's face turned ashen blue and the man stopped fighting back, and then Thorn hauled back a fist and let it slam into the man's face.

“Thorn!” I called out, grabbing his shoulder. “Stop! He's not worth going to jail for.”

“The hell he's not,” Thorn growled back.

The man groaned and his arms fell to the ground at either side of his head, not moving. He looked seconds from death.
“Thorn.”

My voice seemed to finally break through to him, and he glanced at me over his shoulder, face flushed, breathing raggedly.
“What?”

“Let him go,” I said softly. “You won.”

He glanced down, almost as if he were surprised he was still on top of the man, and let go of him. “Shit.” He shook his hand off and stood. “Don't move a muscle.”

My attacker didn't move. Just groaned.

“Groaning fucking counts, asshole.” Thorn didn't take his eyes off the almost-unconscious man as he asked me, “Are you okay?”

Define okay
. Was I okay that my would-be rapist had resurfaced and attacked me for a second time? Was I okay that Thorn had shown up and saved me, instead of being able to save myself? Was I okay that this man had shaken me not once, but twice now?
No
. I wasn't
okay
. I curled my hand around my arm and held on for dear life.

“Y-yeah. I'm just shaken up.”

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Thorn asked, rubbing his knuckles and glaring at the man on the ground as he spat blood out of his mouth. The man groaned and touched his bleeding nose, blinking up at us. “Where did he even come from? Your complex?”

“No. He saw me on the L.” I pressed a hand to my racing heart, my legs trembling so badly I was sure I was about to hit the ground. “He's
the
guy.”

Thorn stiffened, staring down at the almost-unconscious fucker. “What?”

“The guy who attacked me. He—”

Thorn let out an animalistic sound and leapt on my attacker again, slamming his head into the sidewalk even though he hadn't moved, as ordered. The pain must've been enough to bring the guy back to alertness. Thorn lifted his fist and smashed it into the asshole's face again, crumbling whatever bones stood in his way. The coward shrank underneath Thorn, crying out as Thorn gripped his shirt and hauled his face up to his. “If you ever,
ever
come near her again, I'll kill you. And I'll do it slowly. So slowly you'll know when you die and go to hell that I'll be right there next to you, doing it again and again for all eternity. I'll never stop. Never be satisfied. Got it?”

“Y-yes.” The man nodded. “Got it.”

“Good, motherfucker.” Thorn slammed his knuckles into his face one more time, breathing heavily. He spit on him, wiping his bloody hand across his mouth. “Asshole.”

I covered my mouth, staring down at him, my heart racing. The old Thorn, the version of himself he'd been before Mikey died, was on that sidewalk, hurting that man. Not the one he was now. And I wasn't sure what to do. Or say.

“Don't say a word.” Thorn's face reddened, and he glowered down at the fucker, looking as if he was about to assault him again. “The cops will be here soon. We'll get him locked away, and he'll never bother you again.”

“He knows I live here,” I said, trembling, still staring down at the blood spattered on the sidewalk. “He's going to come back. He'll come back and grab me—”

“Hey.” Thorn climbed off of the man, shaking his hand out, and grabbed me, hauling me into his arms as he hugged me close, whispering, “Shh. I'll make sure he never shows up here again. I promise. And there's a bunch of apartment complexes here. He has no way of knowing which way you turn at the corner.”

I rested my cheek on his chest, letting myself accept his touch as sirens blared behind us. Thorn must've called the cops before coming to my rescue. I wasn't sure why this guy got to me so badly. I'd dealt with a lot of assholes in my time, but this one haunted my dreams and destroyed the solid constitution I always fought so hard to maintain. He fucked with me, and I didn't want to see him ever again.

But Thorn was right.

The cops were here, and this guy had been caught assaulting me this time. All I had to do was report him, file a restraining order, press charges, and hope that a piece of paper, the cops, a prison, and Thorn would be enough to scare him off. I turned my face to Thorn's chest, breathing in his scent like it was a drug and I was nothing more than a desperate junkie. And I was. When it came to him? I
really
was.

“Father? What happened here?” a police officer asked from behind me. “Are you okay?”