Page 61 of Protecting What Is Mine

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Mollie

THREE HOURS AGO

I should be walking through Hank’s front door right now, but instead I’m running behind. By a lot. My shift ended at four-thirty and as I hang my apron up and head for my car I notice the clock on the wall reads five after five.

Crap.

I have to get home to clean up, at least a little, so Hank and I can drive all the way back here, past here even, to get to his family’s ranch for dinner.

All by six-thirty.

Yep, the first time I’m invited to a family get together and I’m going to be the reason we’re late.

Double crap.

With my nerves on edge, I bite my bottom lip as I step into the hot summer air. Intending to text an apology to Hank and let him know I’m finally on my way, I reach into my purse for my phone. As I’m busy digging through all the crap I keep forgetting to throw away, I freeze with fear at the sound of a familiar raspy voice.

“Little Mollie-the-Dollie. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

I spin on my heel and find Uncle Roger leaned against the building, just out of sight from anyone inside.

What do I do? Stand tall? Run for my car? Scream for help?

“What…what are you doing here?” So much for standing tall. The panic in my words is evident.

Roger pushes himself off the wall and walks toward me.

I feel a tremble starting in my hand. “Stay right there. Don’t come any closer.”

Roger doesn’t listen. The only indication he even heard me speak is his sneer. “Girlie, I think it’s time the two of us took a stroll down memory lane.”

I raise my hand and push it out with an open palm. “STOP.”

Roger takes one look at my shaking hand and laughs.

“I told you to stop.” I take a half step back while frantically searching my purse for my pepper spray, or anything else that I might be able to use against him.

Roger lifts the front of his shirt with one hand and pulls a pistol from his waistband with the other, keeping it close to his body while aiming it straight at me.

“Why don’t you toss that over to me?” he says, waving his hand at my purse. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.”

I take another step back toward the diner, but before I can work up the nerve to turn and run, Roger closes the distance between us and grabs my wrist, pulling me to him and wrapping his arm around my waist.

“I’ll take that.” Roger reaches up and snatches the purse from my hand as he lifts me off my feet and drags me to his car.

I do my best to fight him, but the way he’s pulling me, I’m too off balance to kick. “Let go of me!” I scream as I attempt to pry his grip loose. I throw an elbow into his stomach, but when he responds with a laugh, it’s clear I’m outmatched.

“You stop screaming and making a scene or I’m going to have to hurt you.” Roger brings the gun to my temple. “Is that what you want, Dollie? You want me to have to hurt you?”

With the feel of cold metal pressed against my skin, panic consumes me and reduces my scream to a fearful mumble.

“That’s better.” Roger stuffs the gun back into his waistband when we reach his jalopy. “See now, as long as you do as your told, we won’t have any problems,” he says with a pat on my head.

The driver’s door creaks when he pulls it open. With one hand still wrapped tight around my waist, he throws the seat forward and pushes my head down as he shoves me into the back.

I crash into the backseat and my heart beats so hard I think it might pound itself right out of my chest.

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