"Can you imagine, some guy wanting me? But he does, and..." She paused. "I want to marry him, too. Is that selfish, knowing what Marisa's doing, how she's had to hide all these years? I just want her home and everything to be normal again. I want my sister back." The last words were carried on a sob. "By the time you make up your mind—"

"I know, okay?"

He whipped around to see Leslie's shoulders slumped. What was he doing, considering sending this woman away? What kind of man was he?

He stalked back into the kitchen and pulled the laptop toward him.

He typed the sentence and paused before sending it. Was he insane? Why did he feel like this trip would change everything?

And did he really want everything to stay just like it was right now? Barely surviving? Cowering whenever a car backfired? No.

And he wouldn't leave these women to fend for themselves.

And none of it had anything to do with the fact that he'd never been able to get Marisa out of his mind.

He hit Send and reread the line he'd sent. Fine. Where shall we meet?

You're coming, Nate?

You haven't given me a choice.

I know. I'm sorry. A pause. What time do you land?

If we can get the flight we looked at, 9:30 a.m.

Meet me at the Chapel of Peace tomorrow afternoon.

Chapel of Peace? Somehow, he doubted there'd be much peace in this adventure.

* * *

HOW HAD NATE GONE FROM packing his kitchen to meeting an international fugitive?

He slid into the backseat beside Leslie, into the same taxi that had brought them from the airport to the hotel. The driver, Luis, had been kind enough to return after they'd checked in and freshened up. Leslie had arranged transportation while they'd laid over in Mexico City. Nate's insistence that they reserve hotel rooms had led to their first argument. Leslie had decided they'd stay with Marisa when they arrived in Acapulco and couldn't imagine why that would make him uncomfortable.

"We have no idea where she lives," he'd said during the flight. "No idea if she wants us there or has room for us."

"She'll make room. I'm her sister."

"I'm not."

"But she insisted you come."

"Reserve a hotel room—one for each of us—or I'm flying straight back to Kennedy."

Leslie had growled at him, but she'd done it. For all her mousy hair and sad looks, she could be stubborn. Well, she'd sucked him into this drama, so he got some say, too.