CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
As James Tiller gripped her from behind, Riley felt like a trapped animal.
The knife was sharp against her throat.
It’ll come any second now, she realized.
Her dazed mind wondered how it would feel to die. Then she heard another familiar voice.
“You don’t want to do that, pal.”
It was Jake’s voice. Or was she just imagining it?
“I’d love to pull the trigger,” she heard Jake say. “Just love to.”
Riley felt Tiller’s grip loosen, and the knife dropped from his hand.
She scrambled away from him and looked around.
Jake was standing there holding a small pistol to Tiller’s head.
Tiller looked terrified.
“Hands behind your back,” Jake said.
Tiller complied, and Jake cuffed him, reciting his rights as he did so.
Poor Celia was crouching on the floor, sobbing unco
