Page 72 of Pulse

Here was the one that would throw them for a loop. She kept her hands flat on the table in front of her. It was the only way to keep them from trembling.

“I want your assurance, your promise, that no matter what I tell you today, no harm will come to Pulse.”

The room fell so quiet she could hear the refrigerator hum from the kitchen.

Spec leaned forward. “Come again?”

This time, she was the one to spear him with a harsh glare. “You heard me fine the first time.”

“Talia, I’m not in the habit of hurting my family,” Curly said. His expression was one of concern and worry as opposed to the suspicion and doubt on Spec’s.

“I know that. It’s why I’m here, helping Pulse with a plan that would be suicide if it weren’t for that fact. But I’m not stupid enough to come here without a backup plan.”

“Fuck.” Spec ran a hand down his face. “What has he done? Please tell me he did not beat that stripper.”

That had her frowning. Of all the ways she’d imagined this going, Spec bringing that up hadn’t crossed her mind. “Of course not. What’s wrong with you?”

“Too much, darlin’. Too fucking much.” His grin had a chill running down her spine. This was a very lethal man, and she was about to give him upsetting news.

Curly thumbed his lip before nodding once. “We agree.”

“I want to hear it from him,” she said as she pointed to Spec.

“Damn, counselor, your balls are bigger than most men’s.” Spec huffed a mocking laugh. “You know, if I didn’t admire that so much, I’d find you fucking annoying.”

She smiled her first genuine smile in hours. “I’ll take that as the compliment I’m assuming it was.”

Spec grunted. “Fine. I agree to your fucking terms. Now talk.”

In the hours she’d spent churning this over and over in her head, she’d decided this was the point to rip off the Band-Aid and tell them straight. She’d had no choice but to drop crumbs until they agreed to her terms, but the longer she pussyfooted, the more she ran the risk of losing their attention and cooperation.

She straightened her spine—the moment of truth.

“Pulse is a former DEA agent. He was single-handedly responsible for taking down the Del Rios Cartel about five years ago.”

Both men stared at her as though she’d sprouted an extra set of tits from her head. She forced herself to remain still and calm under their stunned gazes.

Shocker, Spec reacted first. “I’m sorry,” he said with an ugly laugh. “Can you repeat that? Because it sounded like you said my brother is a former fucking fed. But I know that can’t be true because the Pulse I know is not a stupid motherfucker, and patching in as a fed would be the stupidest fucking thing he could do.”

“Former,” she said.

“What?” Spec spat.

“Former fed.”

He seethed, so she turned her attention back to Curly. As the more reasonable of the two and the one with the power, she needed to appeal to him before his hot-headed enforcer. Unfortunately, his expression was as furious as Spec’s, but at least he kept his temper in check.

So far.

“You promised to hear me out,” she reminded the man. “And you promised not to hurt Pulse.”

“You manipulated us. Fucking lawyers,” Spec muttered.

Only years of experience in interrogation kept her from snapping at the angry enforcer. Like Spec wouldn’t do whatever it took to keep Liv safe? Wouldn’t he beg, borrow, steal, or manipulate whoever he had to if it meant ensuring Liv’s safety?

Not that Pulse was on the same level as Liv. They’d slept together a few times, that’s all, but she cared for the man.

Too much.

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