CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Flippetty FlopThe pressure around Kit’s neck lessened at the same time as the heavy object on her chest disappeared from view. Feet moved in her peripheral vision, and Jackson’s face blocked out everything else. She pushed herself to a sitting position and accepted his outstretched hand. Once upright, she dipped forward to catch her breath and pressed a tentative hand to the bump at the back of her head. Frizz met her palm in a testament to her miserable day. A glance sideways showed the camera lenses of at least three phones as the bored occupants of the police station filmed the attack. One man commentated, complete with dramatic gasps and deliberate movement of the device as he tossed himself around to infer his heroic involvement in the incident.
“Come on.” Jackson
