Dirty Little Lies Read Online Free PDF Page A

inside might want to talk to you. You know, guys with badges. Maybe the friends of the dead guy you left lying on the floor. Or maybe I just wanted to catch you because I could.”
    By now, sirens filled the air. Flashes of red and blue lights caught Marisela’s peripheral vision. She wondered where Frankie was. Why hadn’t he emerged from the house after doubling around to rendezvous with her on the back lawn? But mostly, she tried to figure out what the hell she should do next.
    The assailant took two steps back. Marisela matched the move.
    “I have no intention of going with you peacefully,” the assassin said.
    Marisela shrugged. “Violently’s been fun so far. No need to change tactics now.”
    The shooter’s first volley of kicks and punches came hard and fast, giving Marisela little time to block. She got in a few good licks, but not before the woman clocked her with a roundhouse kick to the chin. Marisela went down, but managed to grab the woman’s ankle on the way, crashing them both to the ground.
    The struggle was messy and ugly and hurt like hell. Every move Marisela made was countered, every punch blocked, or at least hampered by the woman’s incredible strength and skill. Marisela allowed herself a split second to respect her opponent before she locked onto the woman’s arm and twisted. The woman groaned, but broke off the attack by unexpectedly surrendering to Marisela’s momentum, catching her offguard.
    The shooter’s gloves, glossy and slick, slipped from Marisela’s grip, but with a determined yank, Marisela ripped the fabric off her opponent’s hand.
    Bright orange and green flashed from the woman’s wrist. The odd shape, clearly a tattoo, mesmerized Marisela just long enough for the woman to break out of her hold.
    She held the wrist up proudly. “Take a good look. Interesting, isn’t it? Yours is more básico , but we both wear our tatuaje where the blood pulses, where the pain is great.”
    The realization stunned Marisela. In that moment, the shooter kicked out hard. Marisela caught the woman’s foot and moved to throw her off balance when she struck Marisela across the back of the neck. Marisela tumbled backward cursing and the assassin, without another word, disappeared into the darkness and shadows.
    Marisela scrambled to her feet. Frankie finally emerged from the house and jogged down the steps and across the lawn.
    “Holy shit, woman. What happened to you?”
    Marisela wiped a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. “I found the shooter.”
    “You let her go?”
    Marisela took a brief, exhausted look at her ripped dress and scratched and bloodied skin. “Yeah, poor woman. She’d had a tough day. Who was I to stand in the way of her scheduled spa massage?”
    “She kicked your ass?” he asked, eyebrow arched in disbelief.
    Marisela stalked over to the portico and retrieved her abandoned shoes. The dress, on the other hand, was headed for the trash can. She plodded around the grounds, searching for her gun. “She knew what she was doing. And where the hell were you anyway? Some partner you are, disappearing. Does the word backup mean anything to you?”
    He smiled coolly and she suddenly noticed he’d lost not only the mask he’d worn earlier, but his tie. He still looked sexy enough to eat. “ Lo siento, vidita . The cops stopped me on my way through the hall.”
    She snorted. “Isn’t that always your story?”

Three
    COCOONED IN THE back of a Titan limousine waiting for the police to clear their car for exit, Frankie tugged Marisela’s wrist to his lips and kissed the very spot where her tattoo throbbed with the beat of her heart. She was dirty and bloodied and sore—and yet, when a flash of light from outside streaked across Frankie’s midnight eyes, so dark with hunger, warmth pooled deep in her belly. And lower.
    “Your skin is so soft.” He swiped his tongue across her pulse point, blew a heated breath across the moist path, and then smoothed her palm