Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) by Natasha Thomas Read Free Book Online Page B

hair with golden highlights from spending time in the sun usually hangs lose except for when I’m working; then I have it braided loosely over my shoulder so it doesn’t get in the way. Having spent years competing in gymnastics competitions and cheerleading at high school, then graduating to yoga and teaching pole dancing classes for the last two and a half years, I’m toned and athletically built. No flappy bingo-wing arms for me. Men have commented on my blue eyes saying they look like the Mediterranean Sea, and my full C-cup breasts tend to be more of a hindrance than a blessing most days, and not just because they get heavy.
     
    See men are visual creatures, so when you have two prominent things on your chest sticking out into their line of vision they’re bound by obligation and DNA to ogle you. It’s almost imperative to the survival of their gender to get a good look, or cop a feel if they can. I don’t personally run into these problems while I’m at Kitty Kat’s, well not until Mr No Name did his disappearing act anyway. I’m not blaming him for what happened next because I know logically it isn’t his fault. And for the record he doesn’t even know about it. No one does.
     
    About a month and a half ago I finished with the books for the week, and left Kitty Kat’s like I’ve always done, through the staff exit at the back. Train, Shifty, and Trig were in earlier, but I hadn’t seen them for a little while, so for all I knew they were still here somewhere. It isn’t uncommon for them, and the some of the other brothers to come in at opening staying till close, they didn’t usually make themselves scarce though.
     
    I had just shut the back door, checking it was locked, when I was pinned to the brick wall off to the right of the exit. Now at this point most women would scream for help, kick, scratch, any number of things, but me, I didn’t do any of that. The first thing that went through my mind was ‘please don’t kill me’. I knew better than to beg, plead, or bargain with whoever my attacker was. My dad before he died told me that some sick fucks like it when women do that, they get off on it. The last thing I needed was to find out this guy was one of those types. If he was I wasn’t giving him any ammunition for his sick little fantasy.
     
    Second to hoping I wasn’t going to die in an alley that smells like ass, and off fish was the repetitive chant ‘Oh fucking hell no’ that ricocheted through my conscious. There was no fucking way I was going to let some asshole rape me. That shit would not happen without me putting up a hell of a fight. For a split second my mind flashed to a mental image of Tank. Tank in all his six foot seven, 280 pound glory, and what he would do if he were here right now. Useless imagery I know, but what are you going to do? It’s hardly like I was thinking all that rationally at this point. The adrenaline coursing through my veins had me considering ways out of this situation that would only be possible if I had superhuman strength and a jetpack. Which I’ll have you know I don’t have at my disposal.
     
    Making the decision to fight I kick back with my right leg connecting instantly with his shin. The hit he takes is enough for him to momentarily loosen his hold so that I can turn around and prepare to defend myself, but I’m not a fighter that’s for sure, and I have no formal training when it comes to self-defence. My Dad taught me a few basic moves to use in case of emergency but I’ve never had to use them until now. However if there was a situation that would be classified as an emergency this would be it.
     
    After receiving a nasty backhand to the side of my face that makes me see black spots in my vision, and causes my head to spin I bring my knee up nailing the asshole right in the junk. It’s then I begin running in the direction of the well-lit parking lot. I thought I was home free until I got tackled from behind hitting the concrete