Mistress

Chapter 97

Several cars pass by on 15th. Each time, Sean signals me. Each time, my pulse ratchets up. Each time, the car keeps going-false alarm.

The winner of the surprisingly-good-at-slutty thing is Glenn Close-not on anyone’s list of supermodels, but Dangerous Liaisons and Fatal Attraction? Seriously. I think it’s her cheekbones.

“Maybe she’s just waiting for friends to hit the clubs,” says Sean in my earbud.

“No, this is no social call. She was too nervous,” I say into the grass. I’m still facedown, afraid to move lest I attract Anne’s attention. But I’m obscured behind the shrubbery, I think, and, more important, I’m north of her and she’s looking south, waiting for some car to arrive from the only direction it could travel on this one-way street.

Anne Hathaway should try slutty. She’s done sexy but not slut-

“Coming your way, coming your way. A black sedan. It’s moving slowly.”

Okay, focus, Ben. A black sedan. Maybe a government vehicle.

Maybe a billionaire’s vehicle.

“She sees it, too. She’s grabbing her purse. Now she’s heading for the door.”

I rise slowly, sitting on my knees, using my hands to part the shrubs and get a look at the street. “Tell me if I’m sticking up over the hedge,” I say.

“You’re good, you’re still hidden.”

“Use that camera, Sean. Snap everything you can. I’m not sure I’ll have a view.”

“Will do.”

The good news for me is that this parcel of grass where I’m hiding is elevated, raised off the sidewalk, so I can see over the car parked outside Anne’s building.

I see the black sedan pull up by Anne’s building. I listen to the hum of an engine idling. There’s absolutely no reason why anyone in that sedan would be looking in my direction, and according to Sean they wouldn’t be able to see me anyway, but none of that stops my heartbeat from kicking into full throttle.

I hear Anne’s front door open, then the clack of her shoes bounding down the small set of stairs.

The sedan’s rear passenger door opens and, as I’d hoped, the overhead dome light comes on, bathing the interior of the vehicle in light. A man in a dark suit gets out and frisks Anne before she gets in the car. Then she almost dives into the backseat, greeting the person sitting back there with a full-on, passionate kiss.

Anne Brennan is kissing someone, and it’s not me.

“Jesus Christ, is that who I think it is?” Sean cries.

The guy in the dark suit closes the rear door and gets in the front passenger seat. A moment later, the interior light evaporates and the car is dark again.

“Should I follow the car?” Sean asks.

I let out a breath, my chest burning. “No,” I say.

The car drives off briskly. I release the shrubs.

And my brain releases a flurry of thoughts.

Operation Delano…worse than a sex tape of the president…Delano…

Shit. Of course. I’ve been so stupid.

“Ben, did you see inside that car? Is that who I think-”

“Yes,” I say, falling down to my haunches. “That’s who you think it is.”