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Trevor pawed at Kira’s arm, but she had her choke sunk in tight. She gripped her right wrist with her left hand and squeezed.
“Come on, Trevor,” she pleaded into his ear. “Please, don’t fight me on this. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Trevor tried to say something in response, but it came out in a garbled wheeze.
“Ah, what’s going on here?” a woman in a white, Oxford shirt and pinstriped, navy pants asked in a wary voice. Kira gave a muffled start of surprise.
The woman must have stopped on her way to the office building from where her car was parked. Her graying hair was tied back in a severe bun and she shot both Nick and Kira suspicious looks. Kira saw the woman’s hand start to creep toward her pocket—presumably in search of her phone.
Kira maintained her grip on Trevor, but kept h
