Page 3 of Pulse

“Max…” Fear bled into Enrique’s voice for the first time since Max met the man. This entire warehouse was a prosecutor’s dream come to life. All it would take was five minutes of searching for the DA to have enough evidence to lock up Enrique and his father for life, and he knew it.

This moment was what Max had spent the last four years of his life working for, sacrificing for, and lying for. It was necessary and deserved. Enrique and his father did things even the most depraved nightmares couldn’t rival.

They belonged behind bars and away from the public for the rest of their lives so they couldn’t hurt another innocent soul.

So why was his heart racing and his stomach sour with guilt and dread?

Ah, the murky waters undercover cops swam in—the fine line between doing his job well enough to fool his mark and actually becoming what he pretended to be.

“I know,” he said, letting his dread bleed into his voice. “Just do it. We’re fucking dead if they start shooting. Think about Marisol.” Enrique’s wife. “Think about Camila.” His sister.

A hard shove knocked Max a few feet forward. “I said get down!”

He allowed the momentum to drop him to his knees, then pitched onto his stomach, immediately interlacing his hands behind his head as ordered.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” Enrique struggled, but the trained agents had him prone and cuffed in seconds. He shouted and cursed the entire time, but they ignored him, all business in their actions.

Max was restrained next. He didn’t belong there, lying on the ground like one of the bad guys. A heavy boot pressed down inthe center of his back, immobilizing him on the filthy warehouse floor as an agent slid cuffs around his wrists. The click of the metal jolted through him like a gunshot.

Get these off me.

Get these off me.

His chest tightened, and the boot restricted his lung movement.

I can’t breathe.

For four years, he’d tried to prepare for this moment.

Nothing could have prepared him for the panic that seized his lungs and stole his air.

This isn’t real. It’ll be over, and you’ll be set free soon. Pull it the fuck together.

The pressure eased off his back, and he sucked in large gulps of air. The oxygen eased some of the panic but not the hatred of being restrained. He was dying to glance over his shoulder to see if he recognized the agent who’d cuffed him, but he resisted. The risk of blowing his cover was higher than ever. The only way to get out of this without an enormous blinking target on his back was to play along. He’d done it for four years, so he could pull it off for a few more hours.

“Fucking pigs,” he shouted, jerking his arms against the cuffs. “You have no idea who the fuck you’re dealing with.”

“Big talk for a man in cuffs,” the agent behind him said with a laugh.

He recognized that laugh. Mosley, a veteran agent Max considered a friend, or he had before New Mexico’s dark underbelly swallowed him up.

Now Mosley was the arresting agent Max needed to make everyone believe he’d kill if he had the chance.

“Fuck you,” he shouted as best he could with his chest on the ground and his hands behind his back.

A dark chuckle rang out as Mosley yanked him to his knees with a vicious tug on the cuffs. Agony tore through his shoulders, making his pained cry legitimate.

“You fucks,” Enrique shouted from the same kneeling position as Max. His jet-black hair stuck out in all directions, much the same as it did the many times Max caught him strolling into his father’s compound after a night spent cheating on his wife. “I’m going to fucking kill every last one of you. You’re fucking families too.”

“Shut the fuck up, E,” Max said, as would be expected of him in this situation if he were looking out for Enrique.

“Someone ratted, brother,” Enrique whispered when the agents left them to assist in arresting others.

Max’s blood ran cold, but somehow, he managed a scoff. “No fucking way,” he muttered back. “No one is that stupid, E. You’d fucking kill them. Everyone here knows that. No one is stupid enough to betray your family.”

Wild-eyed, Enrique shook his head. “No. Death would be too easy for them. I’d make them beg for death every minute of every day. But I wouldn’t grant it. Not until I peeled every inch of skin from their bodies. I’d snatch their babies from their cribs and make them watch while I snuffed the life out of the little bodies. I’d carve up their wife and make them watch as I coat myself with her blood.”

Ice ran down Max’s spine. He did not doubt the truth of Enrique’s lethal promise for one second. Max didn’t have a family. Well, maybe there was someone out there somewhere, but his grandmother raised him, and she’d passed during his senior year of high school. That lack of connection was part of why he’d accepted the DEA’s offer after getting out of the Army.

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