Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE NEVER GOT another chance to speak with Pulse.
Everything moved quickly after she returned to the ER from imaging. Thankfully, she didn’t have any spinal cord issues or brain bleeding, but they did diagnose her with a moderate concussion due to a severe headache. She also vomited in the radiology suite, which was both painful on her sore chest and humiliating.
The staff acted like it was no big deal. They probably saw and dealt with worse every day, but as someone who prided herself on independence and competence, being the center of attention while at her weakest sucked.
Along with the scans of her head and neck, they’d X-rayed her chest and ribs. Thankfully, she didn’t have any fractures, only extensive bruising that seemed to grow a deeper shade of purple by the hour.
By the time she returned to the ER, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Someone had informed her there’d been a shooting in downtown Tampa with multiple victims, which meant Pulse was back in action and not assigned to her room. Her nurse ended up being a beautiful woman originally from Jamaica who kept her distracted while the sadistic physician shoved a needle in her forehead to numb and then stitched the laceration.
A potent cocktail of pain medications kept the headache at bay and her chest pain to a minimum but made it impossible to stay awake no matter how hard she fought sleep. At one point, she lost an argument with her nurse about being admitted overnight. She used every trick up her sleeve and every tactic she’d learned as an attorney to plead her case and prove she was well enough to go home and sleep there.
She lost.
Nurses were fierce as hell.
That was how she found herself in the drabbest room in America, staring at four white walls with a hideous wallpaper border. It had a geometric print that was popular in the eighties when it was installed. She didn’t have to look at it for long. About five seconds after her floor nurse introduced herself and performed another assessment, Talia passed out cold. She woke every time they came into her room to check her blood pressure and give her medication, but she always fell right back out.
By morning, she was cranky from interrupted sleep and groggy from the damn medication.
She still hadn’t seen Pulse.
Which was probably for the best, considering she didn’t want to have a serious conversation while under the influence of narcotics. Somewhere around four in the morning, she’d refused anything stronger than ibuprofen. It didn’t eliminate the headache as well as the strong stuff, but she hoped she’d feel clearer as the day went on and the opioids flushed out of her system.
“Good morning.” A tall woman wearing light blue scrubs with French-braided blonde hair strode into the room with a sunny smile. “I’m Mindy, and I’ll be the nurse taking care of you today.”
A glance at the clock told Talia it was shortly after eight in the morning.
“Morning.”
“How are you feeling this morning, sweetie?” Mindy asked, making Talia chuckle. The woman had to be five years younger and about a thousand notches perkier than Talia had ever been.
“I’m all right.”
“How’s the pain?” Mindy scanned her badge to log into the computer and then pulled up Talia’s chart with a few mouse clicks.
“I have a mild headache. My sternum is very tender to touch and hurts like hell when I move, but it’s okay when I’m still like this.”
“Okay.” Mindy click-clacked away on the keyboard, documenting everything Talia reported. “Have you been out of bed at all?”
She nodded. “Walked to the bathroom a few times and up and down the hallway once.”
“Great. Well, your doctor should be stopping by for rounds in a bit. If he’s satisfied, we can get you home this morning.”
“Oh, thank God.” The idea of being in her own space worked better at easing her discomfort than any painkiller could. “No offense, but I hate it here.”
Mindy laughed as she stepped away from the computer and over to Talia. “None taken, I promise. I hate it here sometimes too. Let me have your arm so I can take your blood pressure. The quicker we get through everything, the quicker you can go home.”
She’d let them shave her head if it would get her home faster.
Everything moved at a surprisingly rapid pace after that. The doctor came by, checked her forehead stitches and her bruised chest, and ran through a quick neurological assessment since she had a concussion. After she passed all those tests, he pronounced her free to go. Of course, she couldn’t hop out of bed and stroll out the door. They made her call Margo for a ride home and promised someone would stay with her for forty-eight hours. She lied through her teeth when she assured them Margo would be by her side for the next few days. Nothing sounded worse than having her friend hover like a mother hen. Talia wanted to be alone in her space where she could be free to finally let out the emotions of the past fifteen hours by sobbing on her couch.
By eleven in the morning, armed with a brown bag of medication, a nursing assistant wheeled her out the door to where Margo waited in her brand-new Mercedes. She let her friend fuss over her but fell asleep as soon as they hit the highway.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Margo asked after she’d helped Talia into her house. “I can cancel court this afternoon.”
Settled on her couch with a blanket and a hot tea, Talia shook her head. “No, you can’t do that. That case has already been delayed twice. Go. I’m fine. I’m going to drink my tea, nap, watch some trashy TV, then probably nap some more.”
Margo studied her for a moment as though having an internal debate on whether she should leave. She’d worn coral wide-leg pants with a white silk camisole and stylish black blazer, ready for the busy day of work Talia had interrupted.
“Go. I’m fine. I promise.” Talia yawned, tossing in a mouth pat and heavy blink to show her friend and boss how tired she was. If she was a bit dramatic, so be it.
“Okay, fine. But I’m coming back with some dinner later, okay?”
“Kay. Thanks, Marg.”
“And you are not to do anything strenuous, you hear me?” She pointed an accusatory finger Talia’s way, knowing full well that sitting still wasn’t Talia’s strong suit. She was as good at relaxing as she was following orders.
“I hear you.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me until this morning,” Margo muttered as she swiped her purse off the couch. “I bet you never would have called me if the hospital hadn’t forced you. You were planning to take an Uber, weren’t you?”
Ooh, the lawyer you-better-not-lie-to-me stare. “Um…”
“That tells me all I need to know.” Margo rolled her eyes while shaking her head, but her affectionate smile told the truth. Talia’s stubborn streak forever amused her. After she slipped her feet into her nude pumps, she strode over and kissed the top of Talia’s head. “Call if you need anything.”
That would never happen. Margo had already wasted enough of her busy day on Talia’s nonsense.
“Will do.”
Margo snorted. “No, you won’t. You do know it’s okay to lean on people occasionally, right? You do not always have to be the strong one.”
Ugh, this again. “I know,” she said because it was the expected response.
A half hum, half snort was Margo’s only reply. She knew pursuing this conversation was pointless.
Thank God. Talia didn’t have the brain power to think about her mountain of issues just then.
“Bye, Tal. Be good. Love you!” Margo waved over her shoulder as she disappeared through the front door.
Any other time, Talia would have locked it behind her friend, but her limbs weighed three hundred pounds each, and her eyes were already sliding shut. The house was quiet and peaceful. The pain medication kept her headache at bay, and the pile of pillows Margo shoved behind her back kept her chest comfortable. A soft blanket negated the chill of the air conditioning, and within seconds, Talia slipped into unconsciousness.
Knock, knock, knock.
Talia startled, wincing at the pain that lanced through her chest. She blinked. “Wha…”
Knock, knock.
The door.
Frowning, she dragged her legs over the side of the couch. “Coming,” she called out. “Oof, that hurts.” Going from a reclined to a seated position pulled on her chest muscles. She felt like she’d been kicked by an elephant, or at least how she imagined it would feel being hit by one of those giant feet.
Knock, knock
“Coming!” she called louder this time. Who the hell was it? Maybe Margo couldn’t make it for dinner and had ordered her some food.
By the time she shuffled to the door, she was tired again. And in pain. She was due for some pain medication. Her head throbbed where she’d received ten stitches, and her bruised sternum was beyond sore. Wincing, she reached for the knob and pulled open the door, only to find a very attractive man in jeans, a black T-shirt, and a Hell’s Handlers’ cut. His scowl didn’t cancel out his appeal, but it did have her frowning.
“Pulse.”
His gaze immediately went to the cut on her forehead before traveling up and down the length of her body.
She ran a hand over her hair as heat rushed to her face. Rarely did she go out in public with her hair down, and never in lightweight joggers and a simple ribbed tank top. She always secured her hair in a neat bun or similar professional style, wore a full face of makeup, and dressed to impress. Nothing overly fancy or flashy, but it was her armor.
Standing before Pulse in her loungewear with a scrubbed face and loose hair, she might as well have been naked.
Yes, she needed therapy. And no, she hadn’t gone yet. Getting someone as unwilling to lean on others as Talia to go to therapy was worse than pulling teeth. Just ask Margo. She’d said it at least a dozen times.
So now there she stood, skin prickling at the notion of being exposed and vulnerable with a gash on her head and no shields while a gorgeous man stood in her doorway, glowering.
“Uh, what… what are you doing here?” God, she was a respected attorney who’d taken down countless men in the courtroom with her sharp tongue and quick thinking, and here, she could not form a simple sentence without floundering.
“Seriously? You didn’t lock your door after what happened last night?”
His scolding had some of her usual fire returning until she tried to raise an eyebrow and ended up grimacing as pain shot across her forehead in a fiery arc.
With a huff, she turned and strode into the house—time for some pain medication.
“Come in, why don’t you? I was hoping someone would show up to yell at me. This day hasn’t been shitty enough.”
The door clicked shut, followed by the snick of the lock before heavy footfalls trailed her into her kitchen.
She didn’t bother to turn and look at him until she’d swallowed four ibuprofen with a large gulp of water. When she turned, she found him still staring at her, but his anger had changed to concern.
“I fell asleep,” she said and could have kicked herself. Since when did she explain her actions to a random man she didn’t know? And yet, her mouth kept moving. “I was completely wiped out when I got home and passed out within seconds. Otherwise, I would have locked the door.”
He frowned. “I’m surprised they let you come home alone.”
She smirked.
“Ah,” he said, shaking his head.
How long had it been since a man stood in her space?
Ages.
They stared at each other across her kitchen.
So long, she’d apparently forgotten how to act.
“Uh, can I get you anything? A drink or…” She shrugged.
“What? Fuck no. You should be resting, not fucking serving me.”
He had a point. “Uh, okay. Then back to the couch, I guess.” She gestured for him to leave the kitchen before her, but all he did was step to the side so she could pass by. She frowned as he followed her back to the living room, hovering close as though worried she’d keel over at any point.
“Sit anywhere you’d like.” She returned to her favorite spot on the couch beside the armrest and pulled the blanket over her lap. It wasn’t her clothes, but it worked as substitute armor in a pinch.
Pulse sat too. Next to her. Right next to her. So close he was in her bubble , as her coworker’s daughter said when a boy at school had pulled her pigtails all day. Her breath caught. God, he was close. And what was that scent? He smelled woodsy, warm, and cozy, like a human blanket she wanted to burrow in.
What the hell?
That concussion must be worse than she realized.
“So I’m guessing you’re here for a play-by-play of what happened last night?”
“How are you feeling?” he asked instead of answering. “The stitches look great.”
“Oh.” She pressed a hand over her forehead where they’d stitched her up and left the wound open to the air. They’d cleaned it as best they could, but she probably needed to rinse it in the shower, which they said was fine, just no soaking. “I feel like I was in a car accident.”
He grunted.
“I assumed we’d talk at the hospital. I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here… wait, how did you find out where I live?”
He grinned, and damn, he was attractive when he smiled.
“Right.” They probably checked her hospital records. Either that or his club had some hacker extraordinaire in the club who knew everything from when she lost her first tooth to what she bought at the grocery store last week. They fell silent. The weight of what she’d learned last night settled between them like a ticking bomb ready to blow.
He was too close. She couldn’t smell anything but him. All she could feel was the heat wafting off him. It, combined with the warmth from the blanket, had her sweating. Or maybe it was the upcoming conversation that made her sweat.
She wasn’t one to beat around the bush. A problem solver, that’s what Margo called her. Unresolved issues drove her insane, and she’d rather jump into an uncomfortable chat if it fixed an issue. So why was she hesitating now?
Get it together.
She cleared her throat. “So, do you want to tell me why the DEA sent someone to run me off the road and give me a concussion?”
His eyes flared, and he reared back as though she’d smacked him. Whether it was from her blunt delivery or the information itself, she couldn’t tell.
The way his jaw ticked and his fists curled on his thighs spoke to his rising anger.
Maybe she should have softened the delivery.
“Sorry. I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“You’re sure it was the DEA?”
His gaze burned with emotions she couldn’t decipher.
“As sure as I can be.” Talia sighed. A dull throb settled between her eyes. Unfortunately, she’d had all the medication she could for the moment unless she wanted to pop open the few narcotics the doctor prescribed.
And she didn’t.
“I worked late last night. I was the only one left in the office, which is not uncommon.”
His eyes narrowed as though he disapproved.
Talia shrugged. “I’m a bit of a workaholic.”
Understatement of the year.
“Anyway, the main entrance makes this annoying squeak we’re constantly meaning to fix, but I secretly like it because it lets me know whenever someone comes into the office. I heard it last night, and a man came into my office a few seconds later. He never gave me his name. He—”
“Describe him.”
“Uh….” She closed her eyes and conjured an image of the unwelcome visitor. “I was sitting, so I’m not totally sure how tall he was. Six-footish, I’d guess. He had tanned skin and black hair, all smoothed back with a lot of product. No facial hair. No wedding ring. His nails were nice like he’d had them manicured, and he wore a suit that fit him well. He wasn’t overly muscular but not skinny either. Medium build, I guess.” She opened her eyes. “Is that helpful at all?”
His lips pressed together in a grim line. “No, unfortunately, that could be a hundred agents.”
“He wanted me to talk you into working with the DEA again.”
He arched an eyebrow at that.
For a moment, it seemed he wouldn’t spill his secrets. He glanced away with his shoulders so bunched and tense that her fingers itched to dig in and loosen him up. But that’d be highly unprofessional, and they were already crossing lines here.
After a few drawn-out moments of silence, he looked back at her. “I was an agent for a little over a decade.”
Was an agent. Past tense. Did that mean her visitor was right, and he was no longer working for the government? Her instinct had been correct, and Pulse wasn’t a plant in the MC.
“I did a lot of undercover work. A lot. For my last case, I spent four years with the Del Rios Cartel posing as a high-ranking official.”
Talia blinked. “He mentioned that. Pulse, I remember those headlines. That case was insane.”
He nodded.
“I remember it well,” she said as she shifted to face him better. “I was in my last year of law school. We studied the trial extensively in real-time as it was televised. That was you?”
“That was me. My final case. Walked the fuck away when it was over and haven’t spoken to anyone from that world in more than five years.”
The relief shouldn’t have been so substantial, but she’d spent half the night worrying about him destroying the MC from the inside out. For whatever reason, maybe it was the DEA coming after her, she believed him when he said he’d left that life behind. There were so many blanks to be filled in.
“What happened?”
He rubbed a hand across his chin, stubbly with a day’s beard growth. When he met her gaze, his eyes were deep with pain and regret. “I was under for four years straight.”
“That’s a long time.” How did someone survive an operation that long without losing themselves?
“It is. Too long. We kept getting so close, but not close enough to take them down so my assignment was extended over and over. I don’t regret taking them down. The Del Rios Cartel was a violent, evil place most of the time. They did unspeakable things to innocent people and were responsible for hundreds of deaths, be it directly or indirectly, through the drugs they brought into our country. They needed to go away, and I’m proud to have been part of that.”
“But…” She tilted her head, studying the handsome man whose expression grew bleaker by the second.
“People don’t understand what being undercover in a situation like that does to your head. You spend years with people you hate, but not every second is spent taking them down. You also laugh, hang out, and celebrate holidays and birthdays. You get to know the people behind the evil deeds, and to their friends and family, they are often just people. They love them and treat them well. It fucks you up.” He shrugged. “At least it did for me.”
“They liked you.”
He nodded once, then shrugged. His shoulders moved slowly as though the weight he carried made the movement difficult. “I did my job well and became one of the family. So well, I was permitted to date the cartel leader’s daughter.”
Talia sucked in a breath. “Wait…” She straightened. “She died in the DEA’s raid. The day they arrested everyone. She was killed. Oh my God, Pulse.”
Pain twisted his features. “They fucked up. She wasn’t supposed to be there. I made sure. Booked her at the spa that afternoon, but the DEA moved the time up, and no one told me. She showed up, saw me and her brother in cuffs, drew a gun…”
Talia swallowed around her thickened throat. This poor man. She reached for him, resting her palm on his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Pulse. Did-did you love her?”
He shook his head. “No. She was a means to an end. But I liked her, and I tried to treat her well. She had no part in the family business, though she knew who her father and brother were and benefited from their money. I know that makes her guilty by association, but she didn’t deserve to die. Not that way. Not that day.”
“Of course not. God, I’m so sorry.” She tugged on his arm, and he turned into her so she could wrap her arms around him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, sending a ripple of goosebumps down her arms. His scent overwhelmed her, erasing any discomfort the position caused.
They stayed that way for a few moments, both lost in thought. Her air conditioning whirring to life was the only sound besides their breathing.
“I walked away that day,” he eventually said against her skin. “So many fucked-up things happened during that time, but Camila’s death was the final straw. I couldn’t do it anymore, so I resigned and left that life behind.”
And at some point, he’d gone to nursing school to begin a new career. She’d loved to ask him what drove him toward his current job, but it wasn’t the time. They needed to focus on the issue at hand.
“Want to know the most fucked-up part?”
She ran her hands up and down his back. The patches on his cut tickled her palms and reminded her of what the DEA agent wanted in the first place—Pulse spying on his club.
“What’s that?”
“I missed it,” he whispered against her skin. “Missed them. The way they were with each other. The way I became part of the family.”
The pieces fell into place. She nudged him back by his shoulders. Their gazes locked, and her breath caught.
“That’s why you joined the MC.”