Dirty Little Lies by Julie Leto Read Free Book Online Page B

account every week. For now.
    Evan Cole eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t try to have him killed if that’s what you’re asking.”
    Frankie took a step back and raised a hand in surrender. “No, man, that wasn’t what I was asking, but thanks for clearing that up. I’m sure the police will appreciate crossing you off the list.”
    “I don’t abide sarcasm,” Evan snapped.
    Frankie leaned in close. “I live off it.”
    “Think you can at least save it for when my best friend isn’t dying in the adjacent room?”
    Frankie smirked. Yeah, he guessed he could make this one exception. “So, how long have you known him?”
    “Since prep school, not that it is any of your business.”
    “Oh, it’s my business,” Frankie assured him. “Mrs. Bennett hired us to find out who tried to kill her husband. I’m just doing my job, man. If you’re really his best friend, then you’ll help me out.”
    Cole eyed Frankie from head to toe, clearly assessing whether the agent had the right stuff. He gave Max a brief glance, then nodded, his frown belying the approval flashing in his eyes.
    “I’ll help in any way I can, of course.”
    Evan wandered back to the door beside Max, and then stared through the window for a long while. Frankie hung back, waited. He didn’t like the idea of Marisela being alone with Ian in the chapel, but not for the reasons she’d probably expect. On Marisela’s first case, Ian had misled Marisela about the client and her motives. Frankie didn’t figure Denise Bennett had the same twisted intentions, but he preferred to stick close. Keep Marisela out of trouble.
    As if that were possible.
    Seconds later, Evan Cole stalked toward Frankie, his eyes wild with barely checked fury. His gaze alternated between Frankie and Max, as if he wanted to ask a question but wasn’t sure which operative he should address.
    Max broke eye contact, leaving only Frankie.
    “You guys really any good?”
    “Word on the street is we’re the best,” Frankie assured him.
    Cole dug into his pocket and extracted a gold money clip straining from the layers of hundreds folded inside. He took the entire stash and pressed the Ben Franklins into Frankie’s palm. “When you find who did this, I want to know first, got it? Before Denise. Before the police.”
    There had been a time not too long ago when the smell of easy money would have tempted Frankie into a deal with the devil without a second thought. It wasn’t as if he’d grown ethics in prison or anything, but if Titan had taken money from Denise Bennett, he couldn’t jeopardize the case by indulging Evan Cole’s thirst for…what? Revenge?
    Besides, Max had seen everything. Cool as the guy was, he was still Blake’s right hand.
    “Keep your money, Mr. Cole,” Frankie said, slipping him back the bills. “You cooperate with us and we’ll find out who tried to kill your compadre . Stay in the loop, and you’ll know what you need to know.”
    Max gave Frankie an approving nod, but Frankie only shook his head and wandered a few feet down the hall. Life had been so fine when lining his pockets had been his only motivation.
    Well, that was how he liked to remember it. Thinking about Marisela down the hall with Ian Blake probably drooling over her canceled out the nostalgia. With his decision ten years ago to hang with his boys and embrace the Toros’ quest for stolen wealth, he’d lost Marisela for a decade. Now thanks to his own big mouth, they were working together again. Since their reunion, she’d slipped under his skin like a splinter, except the pain she brought was as cruel as it was intoxicating. She’d screw around with him like she did on the balcony tonight, and they’d likely engage in some hot sex real soon, but she’d erected a wall between them—a wall he knew would take a lot more than sex to break down.
    Not that sex wasn’t a great way to start the process.
    Cole paced around the waiting area for a few more minutes, then headed back