Page 199 of Embriagado

“Maybe not.” He shifted closer. “But it sure as hell looks like you’re hiding something.”

Only then did the other officer standing in the room step closer to the desk. Placing his hand on Sánchez’s shoulder, he kept it there for a little too long.

“I’ll go get us coffee,” he said.

Sánchez nodded, barely acknowledging his partner before the other left. Finally alone, I smiled.

“Does he know that you’re in love with someone else?”

“What?” His brows drew together, a thick line forming between them.

“Your partner. The one you’re clearly screwing.”

Instead of saying a word, he turned off the recording tape. Only then did he clear his throat.

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

Amused, I eyed him skeptically. “Actually, I think I’ve got it perfectly right.”

His silence was a loud admission of the truth.

“Now, then, why don’t you ask me what you’re dying to know?” I said, eyes locked on him like a target.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about⁠—”

“Come on, Officer, the question has been on the tip of your tongue ever since we first met.”

He visibly swallowed, letting me know I was one hundred percent correct. Therefore, with his partner still out of my way, I went on.

“Fine, I’ll make it easier for you. The answer is a roaring yes. We fuck.”

Hurt filled his innocent eyes, and I bet his heart just broke a little.

“He makes a good lover, don’t you agree? Very attentive, not to mention passionate⁠—”

“Enough!” he snapped, slamming his hand on the table.

I chuckled. “Why? It’s healthier for you to accept reality and move on. Or better yet, leave us be.”

Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “No. I won’t move on because I know Santiago, and he’s too good for someone like you.”

I pretended to gasp, pressing my palm to my chest. “Someone like me? What have I ever done for you to have such a foul impression of me?”

Silence followed my question as the atmosphere in the interrogation room thickened.

“I might not know what you’re up to yet, but I know you’re a bad man. Or else, you wouldn’t hang around men like Eduardo Flores.”

At last, this guy uttered something that could actually steer him in the right direction of whatever lead he was chasing. Still, I was all but used to dumb officers like him and knew how to string them along even more.

“And before you try to deny it, I’ve got pictures of you meeting with him.”

“Let me guess.” I picked under my nails. “You took those pictures at the hotel?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So that’s a yes,” I hummed. “Anyway, he’s a client.”

“He’s a criminal,” he hissed, voice full of contempt. “A drug lord.”