Page 43 of Safeguarding the Witness

“My proposal needed to be in person. It is unusual.”

Hoping to give herself a better chance to escape, she clumsily pointed to the others in the barn. “They should leave. We should be alone.”

“Giving orders. Just like your sister.”

In a cajoling tone, she said, “Humor me.”

Julio turned toward his men. “You heard the lady. Wait for us near the front. And you, cowboy, prepare the car. I must be alone with Mollie.”

After the others had shuffled into the wide center aisle, she braced herself for an attack on Julio. When he came closer and sat on the hay bale beside her, she stifled the urge to cringe.

Stroking her cheek, he tucked her hair behind her ear and whispered, “You look so much like Princesa, I cannot help but wonder if you make love with the same passion.”

Her fingers itched to use the pepper spray and strike. But not yet. She wanted to hear his proposal, to find out why he’d been after her. She turned her head away from him and shuddered.

“You tremble with excitement,” Julio said, mistaking her disgust for desire. “Be patient, corazón. You may yet have your chance.”

“Tell me your proposal.”

“I wish to offer you a life of luxury, living with me and Princesa in Mexico. You wouldn’t have to work. Whatever your heart desires, it would be yours.”

Mollie couldn’t imagine her twin going along with this. “Why didn’t Madison talk to me about this plan?”

He rose from the hay bale and took a step away from her. “Princesa and I, we have had an argument. I asked her to marry me. She refuses. Why? Why, I ask. She wants her family nearby. She wants you.”

And Madison always gets what she wants. “You’ve been together for five years. Why is it important to be married right now?”

She saw the answer in the proud lift of his chin and the puffing out of his chest. “Princesa is with child. She carries my son. My legacy.”

Pregnant? Really? Madison was pregnant. This should have been good news, but Mollie felt nothing but dread. She wished she could talk to Dad. “You want me to live with you and be the baby’s auntie or nanny.”

“You will be well-paid.”

What about the Cartel? The inherent danger of dealing drugs? Did he want his child growing up with snipers and mercenaries? No one would choose a life like that for their child. Certainly not her sister.

And what about Mollie’s inheritance? After five frustrating years in WITSEC, she’d been offered a way out. Great-Aunt Irma had provided her with the answer to her dreams in an art gallery. Could she throw that away?

From the front of the barn, she heard shouts.

Julio drew a gun from his belt holster—a very fancy SIG Sauer with an engraved handle. He might be a scumbag, but Julio certainly knew his weapons. The sniper had a state-of-the-art rifle with silencer. This SIG was a collector’s piece.

Julio moved to the center aisle to see what was happening. He motioned for her to join him. “We must go. Come. I will not hurt you.”

When she stood, it took a few tense seconds for the room to stop spinning, and then she was in control. “I’m not going with you.”

“Do not be stupid.”

He thrust out his arm and tried to grab her. But Mollie was faster. She held the canister of pepper spray at arm’s length and blasted it into his face.

Chapter Fifteen

Spence left Madison standing in the shade of the cottonwood trees, unholstered his Glock and ran at top speed toward the long flat-top horse barn. Though he still wore a suit and tie, he transformed into a trained Army Ranger, primed for action. Damn, he missed his combat boots and fatigues. He dashed up the hill and crossed the backyard, where the crowd had not dispersed. If anything, there appeared to be even more of them. They multiplied, creating a human traffic jam. He skirted the edge of several groups, ignoring the greetings from friends and family while trying to hide the fact that he was armed.

When he dodged around a foursome of older gents, his grandpa joined him. Matching him stride for stride, Oliver Cameron didn’t hesitate to draw his Smith & Wesson revolver from a belt holster. At the outer corner of the horse barn, Spence came to a halt and flattened his back against the wall, which was painted red like the house with a corral outside the stalls at the rear. He spotted Jamison and two other security guys approaching the front entrance.

After Spence slipped on his glasses, he nodded to his grandpa. “Stay out of this, sir. We’ve got it covered.”

“You might need an extra gunman,” Oliver said, only slightly winded from his sprint across the yard. “You aren’t the only one with a military background.”