Page 5 of Corrupted Deception

If my dad were here, he would have just cut the answers out of Daniel Marín. But my dad and the men he sometimes worked with had taught me to trust my intuition, and it was telling me this would work.

Marín would rather die than live poor.(And there was also the small issue where I felt that knives were meant for cutting up food, not people. Semantics, and all that.)

“He’s dead… you bitch,” he reiterated.

Something twisted in my stomach. Even paralyzed and struggling for breath, Marín sounded pretty sure of himself.

I shook my head. “If Silva knows who Cade Finley is, then he knows he’s got more intel than any one man should have. There is no way he would have passed that up just to put down a traitor.” That was my surety, my guarantee that he was still out there. Somewhere. Being tortured? Brought to the brink of death over and over again?

The knots in my stomach twisted up tighter.

He’s lying.

He has to be lying.

I grabbed the second syringe and stared at it, my knuckles turning white at my grip.

This was a gamble, one hell of a long shot. It could just as easily make him incoherent as compliant.

Just woman up, and get the job done, Char.

I leaned over Marín, giving him a great view of my tits to get his primitive brain working, and jabbed the syringe into his thigh.

“Think of it like ecstasy, Daniel…” I whispered, “on steroids. You won’t—”

Hands wrapped around my arms from behind. Big hands.

Seriously? Come on, fate, you’ve got to be on my side every once in a while. The dog stops playing when you never let her have the bone.

I’d been so caught up in getting Marín’s tongue wagging that I hadn’t heard the door or my assailant’s approach.

But I’d trained for this. I’d spent countless hours sparring, working my muscles until they were numb. For this. Right now.

As my assailant’s hands tightened their grip, adrenaline flooded my brain. Fight or flight. Survival. Hyperarousal: It was the high I sought out on a regular basis.

And that means we’re in my house now, asshole.

I jabbed my elbow back and connected with a solid wall. The impact shot up my arm as I threw my head back, but there was no satisfying crunch of a nose breaking beneath the blow—just a thud as the back of my skull slammed into something solid.

I swung my foot back, aiming for his shin. A sharp hiss indicated I’d hit my mark, but his grip didn’t loosen. It was like his body was a shock absorber, taking everything I could dish out.

I gripped the syringe tight and tried to jab it back into his thigh, but his knee came up, connecting with my lower back and forcing me forward and down until I was bent right over the bed, right next to Marín.

Ugh, really? You’re laughing at me up there, aren’t you?I seethed silently, giving fate the stink eye.

“Are you finished,signorina?”the stranger said in one of those deep, just slightly raspy voices that generally shot like molten heat straight to the lady parts.

Finished? Oh yeah, I’ll just lie here like a good little girl. Nothing bad could come from that, right?

Nevertheless, I forced my body to go slack beneath him.

He removed his knee from my back, but he kept me pinned with one big hand against the back of my neck.

I could feel his gaze traveling over me, from my dark chestnut hair to the backs of my thighs where his own thighs were pressed up against me, keeping me from kicking out at him.

“I missed the memo,” he said as his other hand settled on my hip. “I didn’t realize it was costume day for assassins. But I like yours very much,signorina.”

I bet you do.

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