Free KICK ASS: A Boxed Set by Julie Leto

but it was fast—and since Frankie’s oldest brother, Miguel was a mechanic, that baby likely purred like a cat when stroked the right way.
    And Frankie was nothing if not an expert stroker.
    “Marisela, he’s right behind us?”
    Luckily, Frankie hadn’t been in town in a long time and Marisela knew this neighborhood like the back of her hand. He wasn’t the first ticked-off hombre she’d eluded and likely, he wouldn’t be the last.
    She yanked the car into an unexpected left down an alley that ran behind a row of houses a few blocks up from hers. The car skidded in the uneven dirt, but Marisela kept her tires mostly on the ground and then slowed down, willing her charging emotions under control. At the first empty driveway, she cut through, maneuvering her tiny vehicle onto a main road. Moments later, they heard a screech and a crash behind them. As anticipated, Frankie’s much larger vehicle wouldn’t fit.
    Marisela chuckled, easing the car to a confident and leisurely pace.
    “What’s he going to do if he catches up to us?” Lia asked. “Or do I want to know?”
    “Probably make me suffer some grand humiliation. Remember the time he paid me back for spiking his soda with vinegar by tucking my skirt in my panties after feeling me up at school?”
    Lia laughed at the memory, despite her usual attempts at decorum. “You were both twelve then.”
    “Yeah, well, Frankie’s got a long memory.”
    “You gonna tell me what you did this time to piss him off?”
    Marisela grabbed her seat belt and maneuvered it across her chest, then checked to find Lia already securely strapped in. In the background, she heard her cell phone trilling. No doubt, her mother was calling to find out what had sent Frankie running out of her house in such a hell-bent hurry.
    “Remember how Frankie used to really hate how I’d tease him? You know, get him all hot and then not follow through.”
    “You did that?” Lia asked, startled. “When?”
    She spared her friend a withering glance and Lia bit back a chuckle. “I can’t believe you let him think you were going to do it last night when you were really out to return him to his parents.
    “Yeah, well, I did more than just let him think it.”
    On the two-lane road, she swung around a slow-moving Honda Prelude. She saw no sign of Frankie behind her. Two more blocks and they’d hit Armenia Avenue, one of the main thoroughfares in West Tampa. The chances of running by a cop car improved on a busy street. If Frankie showed up again, she’d just get herself pulled over for speeding or careless driving. Except for the illegal gun she kept in the trunk—which the cops would have no reason to search for—a traffic ticket would be a small price to pay for a clean getaway.
    Ahead, the traffic light flipped from green to gold. Marisela watched the traffic flow and had no choice but to stop. A truck already sat idling in the center lane, but as the first car on the side lane, she could take off the minute the intersection cleared, red light or not, if Frankie showed up again.
    She cursed when a black SUV pulled into her path. She slammed on the brake. Not ten seconds later, Frankie’s rusty Chevy pulled up behind her.
    He’d cut through the parking lot of a strip mall, the son of a bitch. She shouted for Lia to lock the doors.
    In the rearview mirror, Frankie’s teeth gleamed. Not from a smile, but a sneer. He eased his car up until his front bumper tapped her back one. Lia yelped, but Marisela opted for a string of four-letter words instead.
    “Shit, Marisela. When you piss guys off, you do a damned good job, don’t you?”
    Blocked in by the bloated SUV and Frankie’s tank of a car, she had limited choices. She hated running, but hated being trapped even more. She could launch a preemptive strike and confront Frankie first, but what would that do except leave her open for him to exact his revenge? She was good, but Frankie was bigger—and badder.
    Not to mention enraged. He