Free KICK ASS: A Boxed Set by Julie Leto Page A

knocked on her window with barely checked fury.
    And the cell phone behind her, which had stopped ringing, renewed its high-pitched squeal.
    “Get out of the car, Marisela,” he said with surprising calm.
    “Why? So you can get me back like you promised? I’m not stupid, Frankie.”
    “I just need to talk to you.”
    She glanced at the light. Would that sucker never change?
    “Call me later. I’ll be home around six. You got my number, right? 1-800-FUCK-YOU.”
    He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Sounds like you want me to finish what you started last night.”
    “Shut up.”
    The cross traffic eased to a stop, followed a few seconds later by the cars turning north and south. A minute more and she’d be free.
    The shrill cheep of her cell phone slipped beneath her skin and she shouted at Lia to answer the call, sending her friend stretching into the backseat to retrieve her bag. She had no doubt her mother was on the other end of the line.
    “Tell Mami we’re fine. Go away, Frankie. I did what I had to and you have every right to be pissed. But you’ll have to deal with your anger without me.”
    “Oh, no, Marisela. I plan to deal with you. In the way you deserve.”
    Lia shoved the phone at Marisela. “Talk to him.”
    “Tell Mami I’m busy,” she said, grinding the words out through her teeth.
    Lia’s olive skin had turned pasty white.
    “Marisela, please, take the phone. It’s not your mother. He says if you don’t talk to him, this car will explode.”

Six
    “Who is this?”
    “Calm down, Ms. Morales. Though I don’t make a habit of offering idle threats, I simply wanted to emphasize to your friend that you shouldn’t open your door to Mr. Vega. That wouldn’t be wise.”
    She glanced at the caller ID, but as expected, the number was blocked. Still, the cultured voice seeped into her skin like warm, scented lotion—expensive and custom-blended with tiny threads of priceless silk. Even with Frankie now sitting on the hood of her car, looking like he was lounging seaside rather than annoying the hell out of her, Ian Blake’s voice appealed to that stunted feminine part of her that loved a good rescue. The light had turned green, but the SUV hadn’t moved—probably more interested in the show in the rearview mirror.
    And just how did Ian Blake know what was happening to her on a busy West Tampa street? And how did he know Frankie?
    “I don’t suppose you have any brilliant plan for getting him off my ass? Or better yet, off my car?”
    She turned her body, certain she didn’t want Frankie reading her lips or guessing that she was up to her eyeballs in dangerous shit she still didn’t understand. But with one phone call at the perfect time, the idea of working for Ian Blake grew even more appealing. Whatever job he wanted her for would undoubtedly take her out of town—and out of Frankie’s vengeful reach.
    “Your problem will be solved momentarily. In the meantime, we need to talk.”
    “Didn’t I say I’d find you if I was interested?” She honked the horn. Frankie barely flinched and the SUV remained staunchly at a stop.
    Blake sighed wearily. “A nice touch of bravado, Ms. Morales, but your claim was thoroughly impossible. You don’t have the skills or contacts yet to find a man who doesn’t want to be found. But if you come to work for me, you’ll have a boundless opportunity to learn.”
    Marisela hooked the phone between her ear and shoulder, tearing off the minute an ambulance passed and the dark SUV finally cruised out of her way. Frankie’s reflexes were agile, and as she’d known he would, he dismounted without getting himself run over.
    She made a quick right at the intersection, then eased over the speed limit enough to create a distance between her and Frankie. By the time she glanced in the rearview mirror two blocks into her high-speed escape, he was nowhere to be seen.
    “What do you want, Mr. Blake?”
    “To discuss the details of