Chapter 10
Michael howled in anger and drew back his hand, intending to strike her in the face with the gun barrel. It was the opening Jaime needed. Not ideal...but probably the only one she would get. You're not dead until you're dead...don't go there without a fight! With her love for Steve the only thing giving her strength, she swung her right arm up and punched Michael with everything she had, straight in his temple - her upraised arm blocking his intended blow - and then while he was momentarily stunned, she pried the gun from his hand. She pointed the barrel directly between his eyes.
''How does it feel, Michael?'' she asked softly. ''Don't even think about it,'' she told him when she saw him raise the hand that still held the syringe. ''I wanna hear that needle hit the floor - now.''
In the control room, Steve finally allowed himself a breath of sheer relief. Jaime's voice was trembling and yet her words were firm. Clearly, she'd gained control of the situation; she was nobody's victim!
''Now you can get off of me,'' she instructed.
''You won't shoot me, Jaime,'' Michael sneered. ''You don't have it in you.''
''Care to find out the hard way that you were wrong? Get off of me NOW! And I want you to go over and sit in that chair by the fireplace...nice and slowly, with both hands where I can see 'em. Put them on the arms of the chair - keep them in view - and don't move!'' Jaime watched as Michael complied with her orders, then she kept her eyes on him as she sat up slowly, collected herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She tested her strength gradually (watching Michael every second), unsure if her legs would hold her...but they did. Shakily, but they held. ''I'm alright, Steve,'' she announced quietly. ''He didn't hurt me.''
There appeared to be nothing she could use to secure Michael until help could arrive but thinking quickly, she tried to rip the bed sheet into strips...and found she wasn't strong enough. Keeping the gun trained on Michael, she began rummaging through the drawers, first in the kitchenette and then the writing desk until she found a scissors...and beside it, a roll of duct tape. She wouldn't need the bed sheet, after all. ''Put your hands together in front of you - just like you were praying...if you still remember what praying is,'' she told Michael. She wrapped his wrists and his arms, all the way to the elbows, with thick coils of the tape. ''Now your legs,'' she instructed. Knowing he had lost, Michael raised his legs with his ankles together and Jaime finished securing him. ''Now...tell me where we are,'' she insisted. ''Better yet, start giving directions. And don't think about lying; you're in more trouble than you could ever handle already.''
They were nearly two hours' driving distance from where Steve and the others had sat listening, first in horror and then in triumph...but with flashing lights and sirens, they pulled up to the cabin in just over an hour. Steve was the first one inside. He found Jaime seated in the chair opposite Michael's, the gun still in her hand. She set it down willingly and fell into her husband's loving embrace. They were still standing there in front of the fireplace, just holding each other, after Michael had been untaped, cuffed and shackled...and led away. The evidence team swept the cabin, taking away the needles, the drug vials and the gun...and still Jaime and Steve stood their ground, the world around them having disappeared, now that they were together again.
Mark waited outside in one of the cars, ready to drive them back to LA when they were ready...but they couldn't seem to let go of each other or stop gazing into each other's eyes, knowing they'd come closer than ever before to losing each other forever - and yet their love had prevailed. Mark was a patient man. He had plenty of time to wait. He didn't mind playing chauffeur, with both Steve and Jaime sitting in the backseat, curled together without the need for words. He didn't pry, didn't try to turn the ride into a 'session' - and even took the long, scenic route back, to give them a chance to just 'be', before the necessary check-up for Jaime and the debriefings that would surely follow. For the next two and a half hours, love was all that mattered.