Page 39 of Corrupted Deception

The velvety feel of the microfiber chair cushion

I let out a breath and turned to Mendoza.

“What I’ve just done was inject you with succinylcholine, Carlos,” I explained to him calmly, ignoring Cielo and his briefcase. “It’s a neuromuscular blocking agent,” I went on just like I’d rehearsed a hundred times. “You’re essentially paralyzed. As you’ve noticed, it impairs speech, and you’ll probably find it makes it difficult to breathe due to the effects on the respiratory muscles. But don’t worry, the effects are temporary.”

Potentially fatal too, the small nagging voice felt compelled to remind me.

I had a feeling it was going to have a few other things to say by the time I was finished here tonight.

The same rage and hatred that had shone in Marín’s eyes shone in Mendoza’s, but just like Marín, he remained motionless.

“I’ve made an interesting discovery, Carlos.” I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice like I was sharing a secret between friends. “It seems you have an account at Global Wealth Management Bank you haven’t been telling anyone about, and I can’t help but wonder where you’ve been getting the money to fill it.”

The hatred radiating from Mendoza’s eyes reached atomic levels, but he didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to because we both knew exactly where he was getting it.

The deposits were made on the same day deposits were made into the organization’s accounts—collection day. Carlos was collecting payments from the businesses the cartel “protected” and extorting them for even more than the exorbitant fee they were already paying.

El jefewould not be impressed to learn aboutthat.

I shrugged. “I might be compelled to keep that information to myself, maybe even forget about it altogether, if you can tell me what you were doing in Maracay.”

He glared. He didn’t speak. No begging, no threats. Nothing.

“You can’t blackmail him, Charlotte,” Cielo said quietly, “because he knows he’s not walking out of here.”

I could have blackmailed him. I could have sunk the threat in deep and twisted.

Now, Cielo had forced my hand.

The old urge to lash out rose up, like a wave inside me, but it was thick and hot like blood.

I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands, hard, redirecting the wave. Dr. Steele taught me the trick a long time ago. Another stim grounding technique, and it worked. For the most part.

“All right,” I said, wishing my voice sounded sturdier and less like I was going to projectile-vomit any second.

Thanks to my wingman, it looked like sliced-and-diced Venezuelan was now on the menu.

I held out my hand, not really caring which tool Cielo placed on it.

I’d gotten plenty of lessons on effective torture tactics, everything from unsettling your captive with politeness to avoiding heavy bleeders. The men I knew could pretty much write the book on torture. I’d call itHow to Make Small Talk with a Dying Man: Advanced Editionor maybeThe Zen of Torture: Achieving Enlightenment through Enhanced Pain.

Cielo stared at my hand like it was a foreign object he was considering.

“Ask your questions,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but stern while he hogged all his shiny tools to himself.

He retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his briefcase and used them to secure Mendoza’s noodle-like arms above his head.

I swallowed back the white-hot anger that was bubbling up my chest. Only because I knew that any kind of dissension in an interrogation room would be counterproductive.

“What were you, your father and your brother doing in Maracay?” I asked Mendoza.

He didn’t move—not that he could do a whole lot of that at the moment. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and I wasn’t sure whether that was because he couldn’t make his eyes move or if this was a drug-induced paralyzed man’s version of giving me the silent treatment.

Cielo moved next to Mendoza’s head. He had a rag of some sort in one hand and a long, pointy needle in his other hand now. It kind of looked like the tip of my syringe. Just longer. Much longer.

“This can be painless or painful for you, Carlos,” Cielo said as he shoved the rag into the man’s mouth. “But you will answer the woman’s questions,sì?”

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