Marisol Delko Csi Miami Novels & Stories

“I don't know. Maybe she was there and she saw everything.” “This is a risk. You know that right?” he said. I stood, pacing around and filled with unease. “I know that. But what can I do? What can I do to silence her?” I asked, my voice getting loud. There was a brief silence before Delgado spoke. “What about Mariana?” I arched my brows. “Who?” “Diego's ex fiancee. I heard that she was back in the country and has been causing trouble for Diego and Adriana.”

But her eyes still held intelligence, and when she spoke, her voice carried the careful precision of someone who'd decided cooperation was her best option. “My real name is Maria Santos,” she began, glancing between Killian, me, and the federal prosecutor who'd arranged this meeting. “I'm twenty-six years old, from Barcelona. I've been working as an actress for eight years.” “When did Eleanor Wolfe contact you?” the prosecutor asked. “She didn't. Not directly.” Maria's hand moved to rest on her belly. “I was hired through a talent agency in Madrid. They said an American production company needed someone for a private performance. Rich family drama, they called it.”

Even Isabella’s landlord had called, saying he’d received an anonymous offer to buy the building for double its value, if she closed the store within forty-eight hours. By evening, they were exhausted. Cassia was making dinner when the doorbell rang. Lucian went to answer it, his hand resting on the gun he’d started carrying since Diego’s visit. When he opened the door, he found a woman standing on the porch. A woman thin, with dark circles under her eyes and a scar cutting across her cheek. She looked familiar, but Cassia couldn’t place her until she spoke. “Ms. Cassia?” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m Maria. I was at the facility outside Tacoma, you helped me get back to my family after

Of course, we didn’t walk there in silence. “What pipeline did you discover?” Marco asked, too eager to wait any longer. “Emiliana DeLuca, cartel head in Florida. She’s Isa’s mother,” I said. Marco stopped walking. We were halfway to the next room when he froze. “What the hell?” he asked, his reaction radiating distrust. Who was I kidding? He never liked Isa from the start and had warned me about her. Learning she hid such a crucial part of herself set off alarm bells in his head.

On the bottom was a headline. CHAIRWOMAN, MARIE DEL CAMPA, OF H.K GROUP PUBLICLY CONFESSES TO BEING THE MASTERMIND OF THE MURDER OF ZESA RUSSO’S EX BOYFRIEND, ISIAH KING. She confessed? Publicly even. Why? Why would she do that? I didn’t even confront her about it yet. Finn came to stand beside me as he read the headline. We both stood in silence, watching Marie being led into a police van while reporters itched to get a word from her. She said nothing, shielding herself from the press with the police officers. She really confessed. The question was, why?

However, I'm hopeful that once she sees us together, she won't feel so strongly about keeping me away. Or who knows? Maybe she was right to keep me at arm's length. Maybe meeting him will scare the shit out of me and I'll – The door flies open and Marisol Delgado greets me with a big smile. "Mijo! What are you doing standing out here like a telephone pole?" I don't have an opportunity to respond before Marisol slaps her hands to my face and pulls me down to kiss both my cheeks. Despite her diminutive frame of just five feet tall, she has never been intimidated by my height.

Dark curls, black clothes, wary expression. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” “Who are you?” “Maris. I work with Silvio’s communications team. The old Mafia king.” “Great. Another person who probably knows my DNA chart better than I do.” She winced. “Yeah. Tonight sucks. Not arguing that.” I stared at her. “Why are you here?” “Because you ran off alone after finding out your life is a lie, and that usually leads to bad decisions.”

“Her name is Arianna Delgado. Orphan. No known relatives. A few records from shelters, nothing recent. She’s been floating through the system for years. Last known address was a church-run shelter near an Island. That’s all I could find.” “No arrests?” Vincenzo asked, his voice calm, probing for any hint of trouble. “None. She’s clean.” Marco’s confirmation was concise. Vincenzo’s gaze darkened, becoming unreadable. “No attachments. No affiliations?” he pressed, looking for connections, for anything that might link her to a larger network. “None we could trace,” Marco replied. “Either she’s exactly who she says she is… or she’s hiding something very well.” There was a pause, a beat too long,

“Yes, Mr. Dimitri, I just returned. I would surely have got in touch with you soon.” “I’m sorry to bother you now, Mr. Concorde, but an emergency has cropped up. The Interpol had arrested Ms. Delia Kayakos from her hideout in Chicago last night. They’ve brought her back to Athens, but she has attempted suicide by consuming a bottle of sleeping pills.” I wasn’t surprised at all. Ever since my win at the last hearing, she knew her game was up. Soon I would prove that she had illegally confiscated assets from us. Her involvement in Mr. Alesci’s murder and my murder attempt has already been proved.

She also noticed the weapon clipped to his belt, a gun. “Ms. Danika,” he smiled politely as he approached her, holding out his hand. “I am Detective Cortez, and I would like to ask you a few questions about Cecelia McDowell.” Danika blinked in surprise. Not sure if she was the right person to be approached on the matter. Cecelia and Danika weren’t even in the same circle. Though she was an actress herself, Cecelia was nowhere near the league Danika was in. But the man was handsome and Danika had time to kill. She shrugged and took his hand. “Sure. What do you want to know?”