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

her parents’ had bought her for her quinceañera . God, this man was magnetic. He seemed to appreciate her sharp quips and irreverent comments. And most perilous of all, he seemed to know when she was acting all that to make a point.
    “Look, I still don’t know who you are, much less what you do,” she pointed out, desperate to regain the upper hand. “Kind of hard to make a life-changing decision without more information.”
    He stood, unfolding to his full height, his chest mere inches from hers. “I’m not sure that you’re ready for all the details yet. You’ve had a trying evening.”
    A trying evening? More than likely, the women in his rich-ass, pampered world had “trying evenings” when the designer dress they’d chosen for dinner at the club had a rip in the hem and the maid had the night off. Yet, for all his spit and polish, she sensed a man who knew, at least by rumor, the true nature of violence, crime, and risk.
    They matched stares, stances. His gaze lowered, sweeping over her in appreciation that didn’t seem lecherous, and yet, taunted her. Enticed her.
    “I’m not a killer,” she insisted. “Despite what happened tonight.”
    “Mr. Rocha’s job was to lead us to you, help us test your ability to stand against several men in a fight. He obviously had his own agenda.”
    “You might have known how he hated me if you’d checked him out with the right people. Like me, for instance,” she challenged.
    “No argument. And because of my unfortunate lapse in judgment spawned by a tight timetable, you now have the upper hand in our negotiation.”
    “You have my parents.”
    He shook his head. “Not for much longer. They will be home any minute. I won’t use them as leverage. Doesn’t exactly engender trust between employer and employee, does it?”
    Narrowing her eyes, she searched his face for any sign that he was lying. She found none.
    “I’m not an ex-cop or ex-military,” she said. “I’m just a girl who once had a semi-interesting job and a past in a gang. Besides, I’ve got a rap sheet, though that didn’t stop you from hiring Nestor.”
    “In my business, a dubious past can be an asset.”
    “Really? And what business is that?”
    With a sweep of his hand, he invited her to sit again. He also brushed her arm with his fingers, sending a spark of electric awareness crackling around them. For a moment, Marisela considered chastising herself for allowing this man’s buff body, devilish good looks, and well-cut suit to excite her so intrinsically. He’d nearly gotten her killed. He’d set her up, forced her into a situation where she’d had no other option but to kill a man.
    On the flip side, toying with the sexual tension coiling between them beat the hell out of waiting in the church parking lot to be first in line for confession after what she’d done to Frankie. Not to mention Nestor.
    She eased into the chair, but instead of crossing her legs casually as she had before, she kicked her heels up onto his desk ankle over ankle. With his back to the desk, she’d blocked him from moving in any direction—except backward. Retreat.
    He remained still. “My company is a varied conglomerate, mostly private investigation, protection, security. We need someone like you—well acquainted with the criminal element. You know how to move in and out of their circles and you speak the language of the man I’m currently after. You’re beautiful and you can take care of yourself in a fight if your backup is somehow diverted or delayed.”
    “You certainly think you know a lot about me,” she said.
    “I do, and you know it. Besides, your reputation precedes you,” he answered.
    “Really? Maybe yours does, too… of course I wouldn’t know because I still have no idea who the hell you are.”
    “Forgive me. My name is Ian Blake.”
    She kept her hands folded across her stomach, a sliver of bare skin poking from beneath her midriff tee.
    He took her coolness in stride.