“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.

Lucy! That vile little matchmaking monster! She knew exactly where Nealy kept the key, and she’d given it to him.

He hauled her into the musty interior, dragged her toward the back, opened the bathroom door, and pushed her inside.

She opened her mouth to blast him. “I’m going to —”

“Later.” He shut the door in her face.

She lunged for the knob, but he wedged something against the door, and she couldn’t open it. Moments later, she heard the engine grind away, then turn over.

She almost laughed. He wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. Did he think he could simply drive through those electronic gates? Apparently he didn’t know that only a guard could open them without one of the special remotes—

She sagged against the shower door. Of course he had one of the remotes. The teenage traitor was in his corner, and Lucy wanted a family more than anything. It would have been child’s play for her to swipe the remote from the Town Car and give it to him.

Mat was going to do it, she realized. He was going to kidnap the former First Lady of the United States, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

She dutifully banged on the siding as the motor home rolled forward, even though she knew it was hopeless. In addition to the video surveillance at the gates, there was a microphone, but it would never pick up her thumps over the rough noise of Mabel’s engine. Still, she thumped away, just so Mat would know she wasn’t going peacefully.