He could follow them. Leslie's car was much more ordinary than his, so they'd probably not notice the tail. Who remembered a silver sedan? And even if somebody did, it would trace back to Leslie, not him. As long as he wiped it down carefully, he should be fine.

But where would Marisa and Nate go after this? How long could he conceivably follow them before they hit open road and got suspicious? And with the kid in the trunk...

That wouldn't work.

What could he do?

The answer was obvious, and he laughed out loud. Duh—he was in Leslie's car. He'd been tracking her since he'd started seeing her. He'd been watching her on the iPhone app, too, but that wasn't as reliable, and he had to keep an eye on it all the time. The car's tracker kept records. With it, he could check it every once in a while and see what she'd been up to. That was just one way he'd confirmed that she was indeed on his side and not working with the feds.

Their pillow talk was the other way he'd known. Make a woman feel loved, and she'd do anything for you.

Now he just had to get the tracker on Nate and Marisa's truck. Eventually, they had to get out of it, if not here, somewhere. He'd just follow until they did. When the truck was empty, he'd grab the tracker from beneath Leslie's car and secure it to the truck. The magnet would keep it in place, and he'd know where they were.

For the first time since this all had begun, luck was on his side. He'd get what was coming to him, one way or another.

Chapter 21

NATE GLANCED AT HIS watch when the limousine stopped in front of the brownstone. Thirty minutes had passed. Thirty difficult minutes during which Marisa had more than once opened the door of the truck. He'd barely kept her from getting out.

"I just can't sit here," she'd finally said. "I have to move."

"You don't want her to see you when she pulls up."

Marisa had stayed in the truck, though every muscle in her body seemed poised. Her legs jiggled, her hands folded and unfolded. Her eyes darted up and down the street, over and over.

Finally, the chauffeur opened the rear door, and a thin, silver-haired woman stepped out. She wore a wool coat and carried a red leather bag big enough for a laptop. The chauffeur followed her up the stairs with her suitcase. A moment later, they disappeared inside.

"Let's go." Marisa opened her car door and headed for the house.

Nate caught up with her at the foot of the steps, and they climbed together. The door was still open. The chauffeur brushed past them on his way back to the limo.