Marisela Morales 03 - Dirty Little Christmas - Julie Leto

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“Readers who love a great kickass heroine, propulsive action and plenty of steam shouldn’t miss Dirty Little Secrets.”

~ Leigh Thomas, All About Romance

“A must read for anyone enjoying a little female butt-kicking with a little flare.”

~ C.J. Yasay, Bookstove

“Compelling drama, engaging and vibrant characters, along with a spicy Latin flavor all combine together to make Julie Leto’s latest story a must-have for fans of truly well written romantic suspense.”

~ Sonya, Fallen Angel Reviews

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Marisela’s Dictionary of Dirty (and not-so dirty) Spanish

Afterword

Other Works by Julie Leto

About the Author

Contact Information

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Table of Contents

One

Marisela Morales had a secret.

To keep the information under wraps, she’d lied to everyone from her sainted mother to her best friend, Lia Santorini, who, up until now, had been privy to Marisela’s every misdeed. From the time in the third grade when she’d planted a brown recluse spider in Sister Graciela’s habit to the incident six months ago when she’d shot a man because he’d manipulated a woman she admired into committing cold-blooded murder, Lia knew every sordid detail of Marisela’s crimes and misdemeanors.

And since Marisela hadn’t gotten caught for either offense, this proved that if there was one person she could trust, it was Lia. But tonight, she wouldn’t take any chances. To pull off this Christmas surprise, she had to rely on the only person who could expertly lie, even to the people she loved most—herself.

Since Lia was working late on the second floor of the old cigar factory her bosses at Titan International had converted to a satellite office, Marisela had to use the covert skills the security firm had taught her to escape her third floor apartment unseen. She trick-wired her alarm system, slipped out of her window, slid to the second floor fire escape and then vaulted, feet first, to the patch of thick grass below.

She swallowed a guttural
umph
and remained crouched while scooting out of the pink glow from the security light. Spying no movement inside, she blended into the thick hedge, avoiding the concealed trip-wires that would signal the office to an intruder, dug the toe of her boot into a break in the mortar of the ten-foot high brick fence and bounded over. This time, she landed with a loud thud, but from this point, she was free and clear. Hours ago, she’d moved her car to the parking lot of the Puerto Rican barbeque joint around the corner. She was just about to press the button on the fob of her keychain when a voice snapped through the pork-flesh scented air.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Marisela had her gun out and leveled before she connected the wryly-pitched tone to the unyielding, but familiar face.

“
Coño su madre
, Lia. One of these days, I’m going to shoot you.” Marisela re-engaged the safety and then holstered her gun beneath her jacket.

“Don’t you dare curse my mother, you dirty, lying thief.”

“Thief? I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

Lia arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Care to discuss Michael D’Angelo’s virginity again?”

Marisela snorted. “I didn’t steal his virginity. He was offering it to whatever
chica
he lured into his backseat. Besides, the
comemierda
had a prick the size of a snausage. Is that what you wanted for your first time?”

Lia tried to maintain her scowl, but her lips twitched.

Marisela pointed and said, “Ha!” at her friend’s inability to stay mad. Marisela’s brief betrayal back in high school, shortly after her gut-wrenching break-up with her first, and so far, only love, had cost her a week’s worth of talking to her best friend, but in the end, she’d saved Lia from having her first sexual experience with a guy who couldn’t adequately fuck a Barbie doll.

What were friends for?

“You haven’t answered my question,” Lia pressed.

“Ever think there might be a reason for that?”

“That you’re trying to avoid telling me where you’re going? I know you’re not on a case. I got an email from Brynn and Ian as their yacht crossed into Lamaire Channel. Titan is officially closed for the holidays. You have no open cases and no reason to sneak out of your apartment when you were supposed to have left three hours ago to drive your parents to Orlando for that food expo to meet Aarón Sanchez.”

Marisela groaned. Whenever Lia talked in long sentences peppered with undisputable facts, she was unstoppable. If she started using big words, Marisela could kiss her Christmas present good-bye.

“They made it there in time to sample his ceviche,” Marisela replied, struck for a moment by how dirty that sounded when said out loud.

“I know. They called to ask if they needed to tip the driver you hired.”

“Why did they call you?”

“Because you weren’t answering your phone.”

Marisela didn’t bother to check her phone. Her parents constantly called her old number, no matter how many times she programmed her new one into their phones. “I tipped the driver. I told my father three times.”

“And how many times did you tell me that you were going with them?”

“Just the once.”

“Excuse me? I helped you order the tickets. We talked about this a dozen times.”

“
You
talked about it,” Marisela reminded her. “I just nodded and hummed.”

Lia’s frown returned. Then she started tapping her foot.

Shit.

“Look, I didn’t let you in on my
surprise
because it’s a surprise for you, too.”

This was not entirely true, but it wasn’t so far off that Marisela had to employ any special skills to make it believable.

“Now you’re just bullshitting me.”

“Would I bullshit a bullshitter?”

“You do it every day,” Lia countered. “And I don’t bullshit except when I’m paid to. And right now, we’re both off the clock. Brynn and Ian are floating somewhere off the southern coast of Argentina. Max is, well…Max is somewhere he won’t reveal and will be incommunicado until after the first of the year. You should be in Orlando with your family, not asking for trouble that if you get, you’ll have no one to save your ass.”

Marisela nearly choked. “Since when do I need someone else to save my ass?”

She unlocked the door to her Camaro ZL1, an early Christmas present to herself, and cursed when Lia positioned herself so that she couldn’t back up unless she was willing to turn her best friend into road kill.

“Tell me where you’re going,” Lia insisted.

This is what Marisela got for convincing Titan to hire her once the mayor hit his term limit and Lia was out of a job. Her conscience, personified, watching her every move, twenty-four-seven.

“To pick up my parent’s real Christmas present.”

“Which is?”

Marisela didn’t have time to deal with the fireworks that were going to go off when she told Lia the truth. Not unless she did it in transit. Resigned, she opened the passenger door.

Once they were darting west down Columbus Drive, Lia twisted in her seat.

“What’s the present and why the secrecy?”

“Because you’re not going to like it.”

“They’re your parents.”

“They’re also Belinda’s parents, which is why we’re going to the airport to pick her up.”

Lia’s expression morphed from shocked to furious in the span of a heartbeat. Though Marisela could only spare sidelong glances as she maneuvered her car past the International Plaza and onto the airport exit, the temperature in the car rose as Lia’s temper boiled. She turned up the air conditioner to full blast, but Lia slapped it off.

“Your sister’s coming to town?” she asked.

“According to her email.”

“Belinda, who hasn’t been home in five years just decided out of nowhere to leave her cushy job in London and bless the rest of us peasants with her presence in time for the holidays? How truly generous of her.”

Sarcasm dripped off Lia’s words like caramel from a flan, but Marisela kept her focus on the road signs, making sure she followed the right color to British Airways. She’d long ago given up trying to understand why Lia, normally the most generous-hearted person she knew, couldn’t accept Belinda for what she was—and what she had. Belinda had gouged through the hearts of family and friends much as Marisela had with her various misdeeds, but because Belinda had a doctor’s note, she got away with it.

With everyone except Lia.

“Here I thought we were going to have a nice, calm, warm holiday season,” Lia muttered.

Marisela sighed, thrilled for a change in subject. “App says it’ll be 79 on Christmas Day. We’ll go to the beach after church, like we always do.”

“Don’t let your phone fool you. An icy chill is descending on the season and her name is Belinda Morales.”

Again, Marisela pressed her lips together until her jaw ached. Belinda coming to town for Christmas knocked some of the shine off the tinsel for her, too, but her parents were going to shit bricks of happiness.

She took the curves to the top level of the parking garage with accelerated speed, ignoring Lia’s muffled squeal. Marisela had been driving up the spiral entrance to TIA this way since the first time she jacked her father’s Buick and took Belinda on a joy ride.

Her sister had been eighteen. Marisela had been shy of her sixteenth birthday and had lost her learner’s permit because of failing grades. She’d coaxed Belinda into riding shotgun by promising she could count the planes as they landed over Tampa Bay for as long as she wanted to. She might have thrown in an extra-large bag of peanut M&Ms, too.

That was what Marisela loved best about her sister. Belinda might be cold as ice and incapable of tolerating even the gentlest hug, but she listened to reason. It was all she listened to.
Muchos gracias, Señor
Asperger.

She parked on the open top level. The shriek of a landing 747 rent the air, covering the sound of Lia slamming her car door shut with more force than was necessary on a brand-fucking-new car. Even with the holiday rush of travelers, the rooftop lot wasn’t crowded. As they waited for the elevator, Marisela scanned the area. They were alone.

“What are you doing?” Lia asked, clearly still pissed and itching for a fight, judging by her snappy tone.

“I’m just standing here.”

“You were counting cars.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“God, she’s not even here yet and you’re already acting like her.”

“Lia,
esta es loca
? I don’t act like my sister. It’s not even possible.”

“Isn’t it? You don’t see how you change when she’s around. I do.”

“Luckily, she’d not around very often, okay?”

The scowl Lia wore as the elevator doors swooshed open told Marisela that once every few years was more than often enough, as far as Lia was concerned. She marched inside and wedged herself into the corner. Marisela followed, jabbing the button for the third floor arrivals just as a dark SUV pulled into the lot and parked directly next to her Camaro.