Page 84 of Daddy's Arms

The rough, prickly cable pressing into her skin reignited the fight in her. Ignoring the pain in her cheek and the burn of the rope digging into her wrists, she jerked against her bonds.

“Fight me all you want, bitch. I won.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, tinged with madness. “I beat you.”

He pulled tighter, completely cutting off her air. The world began to darken and her lungs felt like they were going to burst. This was it. She was going to die here. She’d never see James again, never feel his lips on hers. She was never going to see Bryant and Shannon get married.

Something exploded in the room, and the pressure around her neck disappeared. Warm, wet stickiness splattered her cheek. Gasping for air, Olivia whipped her head around, looking for her rescuer.

She found only MaryAnn, still standing in the same spot, the gun pointed just over Olivia’s head.

“Wha—” Olivia swallowed against the burning in her throat. “What did you do?”

From behind her came a low, pained groan and she twisted around to find Nate rolling on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Before she could begin to process what had happened, the front door burst open. “Police! Drop the weapon, now!”

MaryAnn complied immediately, crouching to place the gun on the floor before thrusting her trembling hands into the air. As soon as the weapon was down, Detective Rogers moved in, nudging it away with her foot. “Face down, hands on your head!”

“It wasn’t her!” Olivia tried to yell, but it came out as more of a croak.

Detective Rogers flicked a glance toward her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Monroe?”

“Yes, I’m fine. She saved me.” Jerking her head to the side, Olivia gestured toward the man still moaning in pain behind her. “He’s the one you want, he tried to kill me.”

“Okay. What’s her name?”

“MaryAnn. MaryAnn Foster. She’s our receptionist. Please don’t hurt her.”

“Your receptionist?” Out of the entire bizarre scenario, that detail seemed to shock the hardened detective the most. “Jesus. All right, MaryAnn. I want you to stay right there, with your hands on your head. Got it?”

“Y-yes, Officer.”

“Detective.” With one hand still holding her gun trained on MaryAnn, Rogers reached for her phone and dialed. “Yeah, I got them. We have backup yet? Send ‘em in.”

Moments later, the house filled with cops in tactical gear shouting orders. MaryAnn was handcuffed despite Olivia’s shouted protests. Rogers gently removed the ropes from Olivia’s wrists, but kept her pinned to the chair when she started to rise.

“EMTs are on their way to check you out. You’ve got a nasty bruise there, Mrs. Monroe.”

At the reminder, her cheek began to throb. “It hurts like a mother. Goddamn asshole.”

“Probably a good thing we’ve got your husband in cuffs,” Rogers said with a chuckle. “I’m not sure we’d be able to keep him from killing the bastard otherwise.”

“You arrested James? Why?”

“He’s not under arrest. We had to cuff him to keep him from getting himself killed. When that gun went off, he made a run for it. For you.”

A pair of paramedics joined the officers in the house. A tall brunette with pink streaks in her hair offered an overly enthusiastic smile. “Hey, there. Olivia, right?”

“Yes. I think I need to go to the hospital.”

“You sure do. Can you look straight ahead for me? I hate to do it, but I gotta shine this light in your eyes real quick, okay?”

“Okay.”

Staring ahead as she’d been told, Olivia tried not to flinch when the light flashed into her eyes.

“Pupils are equal and reactive. Let’s get you up on this stretcher and into the ambulance.”

“I can walk, really,” Olivia insisted, pushing up from the chair.

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