Page 73 of Pulse

A muscle in Curly’s jaw twitched. The man had self-control, she’d give him that. But then, who could survive more than a dozen years of wrongful imprisonment without commendable restraint?

“We’re listening, Talia,” he said in a voice that didn’t match his rigid posture. “Tell us the story.”

Spec huffed an irritated sigh.

Talia recounted everything Pulse had told her about his time with the DEA. The men didn’t interrupt as she detailed his undercover operation with the Del Rios Cartel, his complicated faux relationship with Camila, and the ultimate demise of his career. She clearly emphasized how he’d cut all ties with the DEA and had nothing to do with any federal organization since then. She also highlighted his solitary life and the way the club had saved him from a life of isolation and depression.

“Well, damn, counselor,” Spec said when she finished. “You are one impressive litigator. You almost had me falling for all that shit about him loving this club and how he’d rather die than hurt us. You must be a fucking shark before a judge.”

She tilted her head and gave Spec the stare that humbled the most brutal criminals. “I am, Spec. Thank you for noticing.”

Asshole.

She focused on Curly, who sat resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “Why are you telling us this now?” he asked.

“Ain’t it obvious?” Spec asked. He rocked back on the chair’s hind legs, folding his arms across his chest. “Dear Old Uncle Sam wants him back on the payroll.”

“I’m sorry,” Talia said, letting a bit of her cool façade slip for the first time. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you work for Uncle Sam for many years?”

“Not the same fucking thing.” He leaned forward, and his chair legs hit the ground with a loud crack. “I defended my country,” he said, stabbing his finger on the table. “He just—”

“He took out one of the deadliest drug cartels in history,” she said, mimicking his pose. Her fingertip ached where she jammed it against the table, but she ignored the discomfort. Spec’s attitude needed to be taken down a few notches, and she was happy to provide the service. “I know this club, and the Del Rios Cartel is exactly the kind of evil your club works to eliminate. You can’t make me believe you think otherwise.”

“This isn’t about the fucking cartel.” Fire shot from Spec’s eyes. “This is about fucking liars.”

“Spec, enough.” Curly’s voice remained calm and steady. “Talia, you’re bringing this to us for a reason. I assume something happened, or Pulse would have probably gone to his grave with this information.”

It became more challenging to keep her attention on Curly with each passing second. Spec’s frequent scoffs and grunts of disbelief had her itching to reach across the table and slap him. “The police orchestrated Pulse’s arrest for the assault on the prostitute at the DEA’s request. They wanted to speak to him without any suspicion by the club. And yes, they asked him to spy on you and report to them, or they’d toss him in jail and out him.”

“I fucking knew—”

“He very firmly told them where they could shove their offer.” She raised her voice over Spec. “I arrived and got him released while I was unaware of any of this. A few nights later, when I was working late, a DEA agent visited me at my office. He threatened me if I couldn’t get Pulse to work with him. That’s the night I was run off the road and injured.”

Finally, Spec’s expression showed an emotion besides anger. Confusion wrinkled his brow. “The DEA’s resorting to thug-level tactics now?”

“Orsomeoneat the DEA is,” Curly said.

Nodding, Talia pointed to him. “Pulse has one contact from his days with the DEA. This guy is not affiliated with any organization or government. He’s independent and loyal to Pulse because Pulse saved his ass years ago. Anyway, due to some covert and, I’m sure, less-than-legal digging, he discovered that a Del Rios family member was able to get hired by and work their way up in the DEA.”

“Oh fuck.” Pieces were beginning to fall into place in Spec’s head.

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Jesus, the fucking feds can’t do a goddamn thing right. So now we have a surviving cartel member with the power of a federal agency behind them out for Pulse’s blood.”

“That’s the working theory, yes. We do not know if this is a widespread operation or if this agent is working alone. Last night, an Officer Newton pulled Pulse over, tased him, and beat him. They made up some bullshit story about him resisting arrest so they could jail him overnight. The DEA is supposed to collect him today and take him to DC. I was able to get him released with the promise that he would return to speak to the DEA today, which obviously will not fucking happen.”

“Jesus Christ,” Spec whispered.

Before he could say anything else, Talia plowed on. “Pulse is worried the DEA or rebirthed cartel will come after the club if they can’t get their hands on him. He planned to come speak to you today and tell you all this information as soon as he woke up.” She shrugged. “I beat him to it.”

“Whoa, boy,” Spec said with a laugh as he slapped his hands together once. “You were right about one thing. That man is going to hate your ass for this stunt. What’d you do, drug ’im?”

She glared at him. “Spec, I say this with all the respect I feel you deserve right now. Shut the fuck up.”

“He—”

“Spec, I need you to put a lid on it for now,” Curly said. He straightened. “I’m not going to lie, Talia, Pulse’s past is going to be an issue for some guys in the club.”

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