Andrea turns and locks eyes with Lance. He’s standing in the aisle between the pews as if he’s ready for a fight. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides and his eyes flash dangerously.
“Lance,” she gasps. “What are you doing here?”
He ignores her and stalks toward the altar with a team of uniformed bodyguards behind him. Several guards break off from the group and start to clear the reporters and guests out of the church. A few men start to argue with the guards, and the guards pull out batons and guns. The crowds vanish.
“Remember when I said I’d bring you a wedding gift?” Lance asks. “Well here it is.”
He snaps his fingers and two bodyguards step forward, holding a weak looking man between them. The man has a pale doughy face and nervous blue eyes and the way he leans into
