KICK ASS: A Boxed Set by Julie Leto Read Free Book Online

Morales. Your parents have been out all night with my associates, safe and sound.”
    She swallowed, forcing her off-kilter attraction to the pit of her stomach, right beside her anger and indignation. “Safe and sound? Can’t say the same for the sanctity of their home, can you? I mean, with a dead guy in the kitchen and another in the hall.”
    He cleared his throat. “By the time your parents return from their little adventure, they’ll never know their daughter committed murder just a foot from where her mother brews her coffee every morning.”
    Marisela scoffed, unwilling to accept even an inkling of guilt. According to Max, Nestor Rocha had been on the same payroll as he was, which all linked back to Mr. Rich Suit. She’d done nothing less than protect herself and her parents’ home—which she figured he’d expected.
    “You can work your guilt trip on someone else, cabrón . He was in my house, attacking something I love very much—my body. Don’t expect regrets from me. Self-defense is not murder.
    He retrieved a lighter from beside the cutter and rolled the cigar into the flame, puffing gently, patiently. Marisela wondered how much this man knew about her, wondered if his choice of smoke was meant to provoke her. Her grandfather had hand-rolled cigars in Ybor City after emigrating from Cuba. Her father, usually after dinner while he sipped an espresso, puffed nightly on a Romeo Y Julieta Reserva Real robusto . The woodsy, earthy odor evoked strong impressions of her childhood, her family. Her life.
    What did this man want from her?
    Through a silver gray haze, he eyed her with undisguised admiration. Or was it something entirely more basic?
    “A tactical error on my part put you in unnecessary danger tonight,” he said. “For that, I apologize.”
    She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t. Believing him meant trusting him and she wasn’t about to let her primed and simmering hormones cloud her already foggy judgment. She uncrossed her legs and balanced both feet firmly in front of her, leaning her elbows on her knees. He’d interpret the move as casual. But she was ready to strike if she didn’t like the more detailed version of his explanation.
    “Nestor Rocha wanted me dead,” she spat. “Has for a long time. How come you didn’t know that? Everyone else in West Tampa did.”
    He nodded. “Yes, well, I don’t know much about West Tampa, Ms. Morales. My initial contact here made himself scarce and time constraints forced me to move without him. Mr. Rocha was employed simply to lead us to you. We had no idea he’d manipulate the situation for his own benefit.”
    “Crooks and killers like Rocha don’t give a damn about anyone’s agenda but their own. You should choose your hired help more carefully. You’re out of your league. Your ‘ivy’ league, if you know what I mean.”
    He chuckled softly. “Very good. Yes, I know exactly what you mean. In fact, my deficit in that particular area is why I need a woman with your expertise for an operation I’m putting together.”
    “My expertise?” she asked, a doubtful laugh in her voice. “What, you need a manicure?”
    He leveled her self-indulgent grin with a steely glare. Apparently, he was no longer in the mood for jokes. Well, hell . After tangling with clearly unresolved attraction to her ex, killing a man in her kitchen, and then grappling with some fantasy man who clearly held her future in his hands, a little cheesy comedy could go a long way.
    “No manicure, I had one Tuesday,” he claimed, and she believed him. He was just the type of guy both vain enough and man enough to have his nails professionally done. “I’m more interested in your… natural abilities.”
    He hadn’t said anything the least bit offensive, but Marisela felt her skin ripple with gooseflesh all the same. His pause, just before he said the word natural , gave the word a lurid ring. As if he knew what she’d done tonight. Not with Nestor, but with Frankie.