Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
A Jolt from the Past
JAMIE
Jamie gasped for air and tried to wrench her entire body away from Ott, but his hot, sweaty hands only squeezed tighter around her throat.
She struggled, but the only air she got was like sucking on a straw someone was pinching.
He had her pinned against a garage in the darkened alley near The Strand, his hand closing like a vise around her airway, stopping her ability to breathe.
A primal scream lay on the tip of her tongue, if only she could get enough air to let it out.
She clawed at his arm, feeling the edge of a knife pierce her rib cage, which threw her into a larger full-blown panic. With every squirm or movement his grip tightened, and the knife went deeper.
Jamie was losing focus from lack of oxygen, bright stars appeared in flashes before her eyes, and she felt her windpipe giving way, being crushed by the sheer force.
Her vision blurred and she could only hear faint grunts coming from Melvyn Ott’s rage as he pressed his thumbs harder into her windpipe.
Jamie felt herself fall to the ground. Almost out-of-body-like.
In that moment, regret, deep and unabashed, crashed through her.
Regret over losing her father at a young age.
Regret for never having an honest relationship with her mother.
Regret that she would never meet her niece, or see Rip’s smile as he held his daughter, that she herself would never have a child, or experience an overpowering love, or fully give her heart over to a man she could truly trust. As her life force waned, Jamie regretted what she had done to Cliff, the one man she’d felt a flicker of something more profound for, regret for what might have been.
She was on the verge of blacking out when she heard another noise and realized the intense pressure on her throat had lifted.
She coughed, gasped violently, and put her hands to her throat, because it felt as if some of the pressure was still there.
Over her own wheezing, she heard another noise.
A scraping across pavement, the sound of flesh hitting bone, more grunting, but there were two voices this time. As her hearing returned, the melee went up decibels and understanding bloomed in Jamie’s fragile mind.
Jamie rolled over and saw a taller, darker figure wrestling with Ott. She could only make out that the man had a chain across Ott’s neck. She scrambled and tried to get her bearings. She blinked to clear her vision and saw that it wasn’t a dark stranger. It was Cliff.
Cliff straddled Ott with the chain from his handcuffs clamped down around Ott’s throat as they struggled.
“Who hired you for the gig!” Cliff shouted down at Ott, who was desperately grappling with the chain around his neck. “Who! Who hired you? Was it Reeves?” Cliff thundered. He kept pressure on but just enough not to kill him.
Finally, Ott croaked out, “It was a broad. She set me up!”
That news caught Cliff off guard, which left an opening for Ott. In one swift move, he squirmed away and escaped Cliff’s hold. He scrambled like a giant spider across the alley and retrieved the knife that had been flung down in the tussle. He turned around, blade in hand, and launched at Cliff.
Melvyn Ott was a split-second away from knifing Cliff in the jugular when his attack was stopped and he abruptly crumpled to the ground where he started to convulse, his muscles involuntarily contracting, lit up with thirty thousand volts.
The two electrified barbed probes stuck out of Ott’s upper back and led directly to the trembling hands of Jamie Frisco and her police-grade taser, a gift from Derick Hampton.
Cliff, who had been bracing for impact, let his guard down and breathed heavily. He watched as Ott lay twitching on the pavement, out like a light, a neutralized threat.
Jamie collapsed onto the pavement, the most extreme level of exhaustion crumpling her will and her muscles all at once. Cliff rushed over to her.
“Jamie!” He gathered her in his arms and cradled her. Her breath came in short, gentle gasps as the trauma to her throat began to swell. She listened to his calm voice.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you. Nice easy breaths, that’s it.” Cliff patted his pockets for his phone but then gave up when he realized the police had taken it. He put his arm back around her and began to gently rock her. “It’s okay, it’s over, it’s over.”
Jamie let herself lean into Cliff and fall apart at the same time. She cried softly into his shirt as the adrenaline in her system subsided and gave way to shock and relief.
“You came back,” she rasped, but she did not go on. She merely stared into Cliff’s eyes and for the first time, quite ironically, she felt safe. Safer than she’d ever felt at any point in her life up until that moment.
He looked back at her, stroked her hair, and gave her a smile with a promise in it. “Guilty.”
“But, you’re not.” Jamie paused, realizing. “Are you?”
The alley was suddenly lit by giant halogen headlights from MBPD SUVs that had pulled in at high speed and screeched to a stop. Three police units plus a SWAT vehicle arrived in the alley and suddenly they were swarmed by law enforcement, all guns trained on Cliff.
“Freeze.” The steady and sure voice of Detective Roverson came through the alley. “Hands up if you know what’s good for you, Weston.”
Cliff slowly let go of Jamie and put his hands up. As he sat still on the pavement, two officers moved forward toward him, guns still cocked and aimed.
“Hey, keep the guns trained on me, not her, okay?” Cliff gently said.
In a flurry of activity, the police and SWAT took an unconscious Melvyn Ott into custody, as well as Cliff, who was not even trying to explain what had happened there.
Someone put a blanket around Jamie and led her to the back of the SWAT SUV, where they took her vitals.
Jamie tried to protest, to tell them Cliff had saved her life, but no one could hear what she was saying, her vocal cords too weak, her throat too swollen.
Her eyes liquid pools, she watched shaken and helpless as Cliff was taken away in handcuffs, stuffed into the back of a cop car, and removed from her life for the second time that night.
This time for good.