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He was cutting off my air.
I was going to pass out.
No.
No, I couldn’t pass out.
My mind flashed back to one particular move from that self-defense class.
I lifted my arms, clasping them together, then bringing down my forearm on the inward bend of his elbow, knocking his grip loose.
It was right then that I heard it.
The bleep of the elevator.
Someone was coming.
And given the time of the night, I knew who it was.
Marshall. The friendly neighborhood heroin dealer. Done with his time spent working the streets.
We weren’t exactly on neighborly terms.
But he was a massive wall of a man.
And he was nearby.
So I did the only thing I had left to do, given that I was out matched with Josh.
I sucked in a breath that burned and I screamed as I yanked open the door.
There he was.
A giant who looked tired and taken aback at what he saw.
“The fuck?” he asked, taking a step forward.
But before he could do anything, Josh decided to cut his losses, and rushed out from my apartment and down the hall.
“No, don’t,” I said, holding a hand to my throat that felt like I’d gargled glass from being choked.
“Why the fuck not?” he asked, shaking his head.
“You don’t want that kind of trouble.”
“Girl, have we met? I live for trouble.”
“Not that kind,” I assured him. “He’s the police commissioner’s son.”
“Aw shit,” he said, shoulders slumping.
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding.
“You alright? You don’t look so hot.”
“I feel like shit,” I admitted. Adrenaline depleted, all the pain was assaulting me at once.
“You look it,” he agreed, nodding.
