Adam’s throat bobs under my hand and even though I don’t apply enough pressure to cut off his airway, he starts to hyperventilate.
“Spit it out, Adam. The longer you take, the more time I have to become creative with your death,” Maximo informs him in a bored drawl.
Adam’s head flits from side to side and in a rushed breath he says, “I didn’t want to.” I loosen my hold on his neck, pushing him to finish. “The cartel,” he bites out, confirming what I already knew. “They made me do it, said they’d string up my family by their feet on the tree in our front yard if I didn’t.”
“I’m insulted,” Maximo cuts in, drifting closer until I can feel his presence beside me. He leans into my space to get closer to Adam’s face, peering at the man. “You thought a death from the cartel would be one worse than the family?” he asks, raising a brow.
Adam shakes his head, inhaling a sharp breath. “I panicked.”
“Sure you did,” Maximo pats him on the top of the head. He moves so quickly I nearly miss the movement as he pushes Adam back until the man hits the ground. I lose my grip on him.
Maximo places a boot in the center of the man’s chest, pressing down hard. “You fucking liar. You don’t really give a shit about your family. That’s not why you betrayed us. Tell the fucking truth.”
Maximo raises his boot, stomping down on the man’s stomach this time.
Adam wheezes out, “Money.”
“That’s what I fucking thought,” Maximo says, his voice eerily low as he stares down at Adam with a sneer on his face. “Too bad you’re not going to get to enjoy any of that money,” he says.
He keeps his boot on Adam’s chest as he reaches inside his jacket.
I should be less surprised than I am when he pulls a syringe out of his pocket. He kneels next to Adam, cupping his face with his free hand. “You know fentanyl, it’s really a deadly thing,” he says. “I figured I should see in person how it takes a life. What do you think, Adam?”
Adam tries to struggle, to fight for his pathetic life, but Maximo doesn’t give a shit as he kneels down on the man’s shoulders, preventing him from moving. A crude smile crosses his lips as he looks up at me. “Sure you want to stay for the show, Bianchi?” he asks.
I don’t miss his mocking tone or the way his eyes trail over me slowly.
“Hurry the fuck up, Maximo, we don’t have all day.”
He lets out a chuckle before maneuvering his body back a little and pulling up Adam’s arm as he continues to struggle. He pushes his sleeves up and it doesn't take him long to wrestle the man’s arm down. I watch as he sticks the syringe in the man’s arm before pushing down the plunger and releasing the fentanyl.
I don’t even ask how he got the drug or if he plans to keep using it as a play choice. It’s different from his usual shot to the head.
Adam’s body jerks just as Maximo gets up. Staring down at him, I watch his body seize as foam bubbles at his lips.
Maximo turns to look at me, a dark look in his eyes. “And who said we don’t make a great team, Bianchi?”