Page 37 of Pulse

He shrugged. “I am certain.”

Talia was way too brilliant to fall for bullshit. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Pulse, what does that mean? How are you certain?”

He sighed. “It means someone from the club will be outside your house at all times until this shit is resolved.”

“What?” she shot forward, then winced and cradled a hand to her sternum. “Okay, that was dumb.”

He curled his fists to avoid reaching for her and helping her settle back against the pillows. No matter how much he hated watching her struggle, she wouldn’t want or appreciate the assistance when she was trying so hard to prove she didn’t need anyone.

“Save your breath,” he said. “It’s done.” Or it would be as soon as he placed a call and lied about the reason she needed an eye on her. “We’ve got a couple of new prospects who need shit to do, and this is perfect.”

“What will you tell them?”

He stood. Work started in a few hours, and he’d need to get this sorted before then. He also needed to leave before he did something stupid like agreeing to tell Curly about his past.

Or kiss Talia.

“That’s for me to worry about.”

Her frown told him how hard she was working not to argue.

“I gotta take off, but I’ll get someone out here within the hour.”

“Okay. Thank y—”

He held up a hand. “Do not thank me for keeping you safe when the whole reason you’re in fucking pain is because of me.”

“Pulse…”

No way could he listen to her try to ease his conscience. “Call if you need anything,” he said as he strode to the door. The instinct to pause and kiss the top of her head rode him hard, but he ignored it, just as he ignored how good her breasts felt against him when she’d hugged him.

The second her door closed behind him, he rang Spec, who answered immediately. “Yo, Pulse, what’s up, brother?”

“Hey, the club’s new attorney was run off the road last night. Can we get a schedule for the new prospects to keep an eye on her until I can look into what’s going on?”

Not a lie. He was sure as hell going to investigate it, but not the truth either.

“Oh shit, she okay?”

“Concussion and a nasty laceration on her forehead that needed a bunch of stitches. She’s bruised as fuck, too, but nothing she won’t recover from.”

“Damn, yeah, I’ll get a guy out there right away. Text me her address. I’ll have Liv and the ladies stop by with some food for her too.”

Pulse couldn’t help but grin as he imagined Talia’s shock at finding an army of nosy ol’ ladies darkening her door with more food than she could eat in a month.

“Perfect. Thanks, man.”

“Interesting that she called you when she got hurt, right?” Spec’s voice was thick with innuendo.

Rolling his eyes, Pulse said, “She didn’t call me, dipshit. I work at the hospital on the trauma team, remember? She rolled in on an ambulance in the middle of the night.”

“Well, fuck you. That’s not nearly as juicy. I can’t give you shit about that. Thanks for ruining my fun, asshole,” Spec said, sounding disgusted.

Pulse grinned. “Love you, too, brother.”

He sat astride his bike and glanced back at Talia’s home. She had a nice place. It was older but had been well maintained and updated and set in a semi-rural neighborhood where the houses had plenty of space between them. He didn’t exactly get a tour, but he’d guess it had three bedrooms. From what he saw, Talia kept it neat and organized, with a modern yet cozy style—lots of neutrals and soft colors.

He liked his home the same way. Work was a constant adrenaline rush, often overwhelming and chaotic, like life at the clubhouse. Having a house full of bright colors and patterns didn’t allow his brain to come down from that high.

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