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Mat leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. Had he noticed how much they looked like a family?
“How did your meetings go today? Did you jiggle any change loose from those corporate high rollers?”
“A little.” She couldn’t carry on casual conversation with him, so she turned to Button. “Do you like your potatoes?”
The baby pulled a food-smeared fist from her mouth and pointed at her sister. “Woos!”
Lucy giggled. “That’s what she calls me. Woos. She just started it a couple weeks ago.”
“Ma!”
Nealy smiled. “You’ve got that one down pat, don’t you, cupcake?”
“Da!”
Mat looked at Nealy instead of the baby. “She’s got that right, too.”
Nealy wouldn’t let him do this. He couldn’t worm his way into their lives because he’d finally decided he missed the girls. She might have to come to terms with letting him see them, but that didn’t mean she had to accept those leftover, lukewarm feelings he was tossing at her and pretend they were something more.
She folded her napkin, set it next to her plate, and stood. “I’m not feeling well. If you’ll excuse me . . . Tina, would you bring Button upstairs when she’s done eating?”
“Sure.”
He rose. “Nealy . . .”
“Good-bye, Mat. I’m sure Lucy will keep you entertained.” She turned her back on all of them and left the kitchen.
24
NEALY SEALED HERSELF away in her bedroom with her briefing book and a laptop computer, stopping work only long enough to read Button a bedtime story and tuck her in when Tina brought her upstairs. As she returned to her room, she heard Mat talking to Lucy downstairs. The low intensity of his voice made her want to strain to listen. Instead, she hurried into her room, put on some Chopin, and turned up the volume.
Lucy came in an hour later. Her eyes were bright with excitement, but she must have known Nealy wouldn’t appreciate hearing how happy she was to see Mat again, so she gave her a fierce good-night hug and disappeared.
Now that Mat had left, Nealy felt even more depressed. She changed into her favorite baby blue flannel pajamas. They were printed with fluffy white clouds and smelled like fabric softener. She tried to return to work, but hunger pangs distracted her. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and she’d barely eaten all day. She set aside her laptop and padded downstairs barefoot.
Tina had turned on the stove light before she’d left, and Tamarah and Andre were settled in for the night. Nealy went into the pantry and leaned down to pull a box of cereal from the shelf. As she straightened, a hand clamped over her mouth.
Her eyes flew open. Her heart hammered.
A muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against a very hard, very familiar chest. “Just pretend I’m an enemy of the state,” he whispered, “and consider yourself kidnapped.”
Only as she felt herself being dragged toward the back door did she realize Mat wasn’t just messing around.
He didn’t even grunt when her bare heel caught him in the shin. Why hadn’t she put on shoes before she came downstairs?
Somehow he managed to maneuver the back door open. She felt his breath, warm against her cheek. “The only way I can talk to you is to get you away from this house, so that’s where we’re going. You can try to scream if you like, but if you get away with it, your friends in the Secret Service are going to come running, and they won’t ask a single question before they shoot. Now, how bad do you want me dead?”
He had no idea!
She tried to bite his palm, but she couldn’t sink her teeth in.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Fight all you want. Just, please, don’t make too much noise while you’re doing it because those buddies of yours play for keeps.”
One of her feet made a furrow in the fallen leaves as he half carried, half dragged her across the terrace and through the grass without loosening his grip on her mouth. He was strong as an ox, and she was beside herself with frustration. She could probably manage to make some kind of noise, but she didn’t dare try. Although she definitely wanted him to die a brutal and bloody death, she intended to do the job herself. She was even afraid to kick him again for fear one of her barefoot blows would inflict enough damage to make him cry out. Oh, this was impossible! What an infuriating, miserable, depraved man!
She twisted against him, fighting as hard as she could without making a sound. Then she saw a familiar yellow shape ahead. Mabel! He was taking her to Mabel! That was good. That was wonderful! He couldn’t get inside because she’d locked up the motor home herself and left the key—
He unlocked the door.
