Dirty Little Lies by Julie Leto Page B

well.
    “You rang, boss?”
    He looked up, worry etched on his face.
    “Where’s Frank?”
    “Brynn caught us on the way up,” she explained. “She wanted Frankie to go with her to interview the guy who hosted the fund-raiser last night.”
    Marisela dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket, feeling a chill that had more to do with Ian’s mood than the temperature.
    “She said something about you and I needing to talk.”
    His frown deepened. “She did, did she? What else did my dear sister say to you?”
    Nothing as interesting as what Ian clearly didn’t want her to know.
    “Said the interview with the fund-raiser guy would be a waste of time and that I’d better get my ass up here. Made a crack about my being Catholic and needing to hear your confession. What the hell is going on? Whose apartment is this?”
    Ian stood, and she noticed that while he had changed clothes from the tuxedo he’d worn last night, his pants weren’t as perfectly creased as they normally were and the knot of his tie was off center by half an inch. He looked tired. Any sleep he’d gotten had not been enough.
    “Are you okay?” She didn’t want to care, but couldn’t bite back the instinct.
    He ignored her. “This apartment was used a week ago by the assassin who shot Craig Bennett.”
    The apartment, with its fading paint and outdated furniture, looked like a standard hotel or motel room after housekeeping had done their work. If there were any clues about the last tenant, she certainly didn’t see them.
    “And you know she was here how?”
    Ian glanced aside. “I was here with her.”
    Not the answer Marisela expected.
    And judging by the uncomfortable look that skittered over Ian’s face, he wasn’t thrilled about telling her the ugly truth.
    She smiled broadly. “Oh, this is going to be good, isn’t it? Should I sit down?” She grabbed the nearest chair, which had been shoved beneath a small desk. “You give me all the sordid derails, mijo . You’ll feel better once it’s all out in the open.”
    His steely glare told her he was not amused.
    “The entire situation will be more than amusing to you, I’m sure.” he said. “I nearly had to provide my dear sister with a respirator.”
    She couldn’t be this lucky, could she? Had he slept with the killer? Why else would he have been with her in her apartment? Okay, there were lots of other reasons why he might have been here, but judging by the crimson skin just above his collar, his sin was obvious. She spun the chair around and sat backward, her arms braced on the back. “So…spill. Don’t spare the details, either. I’ve been around the block. I can take it.”
    She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a growl vibrating in the back of his throat.
    “Her name is Yizenia Santiago,” he replied tersely.
    “You’ve known her name the whole time?”
    “I wasn’t informed of her identity until this morning when Brynn examined the note given to Denise Bennett. She recognized the flower.”
    “The flower that was like the tattoo I saw on the shooter?”
    “Precisely,” he replied curtly, but with a sense of relief. He probably thought Marisela was going to let the sordid stuff drop. They hadn’t known each other long, but he didn’t seriously think she’d let this go, did he? She was just biding her time.
    “What can you tell me about her that’s not X-rated?” she asked, her expression serious.
    “Yizenia Santiago is a relatively well-known killer for hire based out of Madrid. She has a tattoo of a pomegranate flower on her left wrist.”
    Marisela leaned on one hand, exaggerating her interest with a wag of her eyebrows. “Any other tattoos in less conspicuous places that I should know about?”
    The color rose on his neck. “None that I recall.”
    She nodded. “Right. Still, I have this tattoo on my—”
    “I think it’s best that we discuss only the details that are relevant to the case.”
    “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, “but