Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
HE’D HAVE BEEN more comfortable if someone carved him open and let his insides spill out all over the room. Four years undercover, never talking about his true feelings and thoughts, followed by five years of keeping himself emotionally removed from everyone in his life, meant he was severely out of practice talking about his shit.
Sharing his secrets with Talia, secrets he’d never voiced, made his body prickle as though thousands of needles were dancing along his oversensitive skin. His clothes felt too tight, near suffocating. Her arms around him felt intoxicating and torturous.
Her tits pressed into his chest, and her soft skin against his own soothed as well as aroused. He was as out of practice with physical intimacy as he was emotional. Sure, he fucked on occasion, but that’s all it was. The sixty seconds of hugging Talia was more meaningful than a single sexual interaction he’d had over the past five years.
“You needed a family,” she whispered as she snuck a hand under his cut then continued rubbing his back. Without the leather and thick patches blunting the sensation, he might as well have been naked. The heat from her hand seared through his thin T-shirt.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, though the admission nearly killed him.
Talia’s hand slid to his lower back, then stilled beneath his cut. She pulled away, only far enough so she could see his face. “And now the DEA wants you to spy on your family.”
Did they? Something about this entire situation was off. After a decade of working for them, Pulse knew how the government worked. The alphabet agencies could be shady as fuck when they needed to be, but actively running a woman off the road to get their way? That wasn’t their style. There were so many methods of putting pressure on a person that were more effective and subtle.
When he didn’t respond right away, Talia frowned. “That’s what they want, right? I mean, that’s what they told me. And when I told the agent to suck on an electrical cord, he said he had ways of making me comply, hence the car accident.” As though a lightbulb went off in her mind, her eyes widened. “Unless…”
He nodded.
God, she was so close he could see a moon-shaped speck of gold in her right eye.
“It’s more in line with something a cartel out for revenge would do. Oh shit, I had the impression he was trying to downplay an accent.”
Goddamn, she was quick. “Yes. I didn’t think that at first, but given what happened to you…” He shrugged. “Something deeper is going on. Maybe a rouge cartel member we missed during the arrest who’s now posing as a DEA agent.”
She swallowed. Her throat rose and fell with the motion, drawing his attention. His lips tingled. She’d taste good, like sweetness and strength intertwined.
“Or maybe they feel the ultimate revenge is infiltrating the DEA.”
Oh shit. She was right. He let his hands fall from around her. They landed on her thighs. “Five years is the perfect amount of time to get someone in the door. They could have worked up to a solid position and been trusted by the entire agency by now.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “And they bring up this idea of delving into MCs as the perfect way to fuck with you and everyone you love.”
“Fuck,” he spat out as he tried to push off the couch.
Talia caught his hand, drawing him back down. “Pulse, wait.” She kept a firm grip on his hand. “You have to tell Curly.”
He reeled back as though she’d slapped him. “What? Fuck no.” This time, he successfully ripped out of her grasp and leaped off the couch. “That cannot happen,” he said as he paced away. “Worst idea ever. You have no idea the shitstorm that would bring.”
She rose from the couch with a wince that had him feeling like an asshole.
“Talia, you should be sitting.” He started for her, but she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“Listen to me. Curly is a good man. He will underst—”
“No.” He stared at the ceiling as he inhaled. “There’s nothing Curly hates more than cops. Feds are cops on steroids. I’ve been lying since the day he met me. He’ll kill me. Hell, I’ll be lucky if he kills me. Most likely, he’ll sic Spec on me, and I’ll be tortured for a few weeks before they kill me.”
“He accepts Tracker’s ol’ lady, Jo. Maybe it would be the same for you.”
Jo was a former cop in their town who’d quit the force due to corruption in the department.
“You know it’s not the same.”
“Pulse…” The pleading in her eyes almost had him giving in.
But he couldn’t.
He shook his head. “I can’t, Talia. I can’t… do that to them.”
The truth was he didn’t care what they did to him. Joining the MC with his history always held an enormous risk—one he’d been willing to take. He’d gone looking for a family to replace what he’d had during his undercover time with the cartel. What he found blew that experience out of the water. He and his brothers were tight in a way he’d never experienced. He’d die for any one of them. Even as he held himself at a distance emotionally, he could be himself around them.
In all ways except one.
Talia studied him without speaking. What was she thinking? Would she announce that she planned to tell Curly despite his wishes? He wouldn’t blame her. Curly paid her to represent the club. No one man was above the club. She’d be well within her rights to tell Curly everything they discussed. She’d be a fool not to.
“Okay,” she said after the silence grew almost too heavy to endure. “We’ll try it your way. For now.”
“We?”
She nodded with a crooked half smile. “They say two heads are better than one, right?”
“I don’t want you involved, Talia.”
Her huff of laughter rang hollow. She reached for the stitches on her forehead. “I’m in it now. I don’t scare easily, Pulse, and I’ve always fought for what I believed. It’s important to me. You can try pushing me out, but I won’t go easily.”
His admiration for this woman, already high, grew with every word she spoke. “Okay. You can help me under one condition.”
One eyebrow rose in what he recognized as her warning signal. A skeptical watch-what-you-say cautionary look. It was sexy as hell and fierce as fuck—two phrases that described Talia perfectly. He couldn’t help but smile in return.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You sit back down and don’t get up for the rest of the day.”
Talia narrowed her eyes. Her hip popped to the side as she rested her hand on it. “Are you telling me what to do?”
He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. If he let this play out much longer, his mouth would end up bloody, but he couldn’t resist having a little fun with her. He advanced into her personal space, stopping only when he was close enough, she had to lift her chin to maintain eye contact. Pulse might not be the tallest in the group at six feet, but he still had at least five inches on Talia.
“That a problem?”
Her mouth opened and closed. She blinked. A sound nearing a squawk left her. Pulse bit his cheek harder. He could feel the waves of indignation rolling off her and smacking into him. She was stuck. Her instinct was to tell him to shove his demand up his ass, but on the flip side, she knew she should be sitting and resting.
“It is,” she ended up saying even as she turned and strode to the couch. “I’ll sit. Not because you told me to but because it’s the smart thing to do.”
Well, shit. Why was that sass so hot? Would she be like this in bed? Would she fight for control and channel all that independence into passion? Would she try to run the show? Or would she go the opposite way and hand over control to give her mind a rest? Fuck, either of those would be fine by him.
He shifted as his cock thickened in his jeans. If she noticed, she’d likely castrate him.
Syringes.
Stethoscopes.
Bedpans.
That last one did the trick—nothing sexy about a bedpan.
Thank God she didn’t have her glasses on because nothing could have deflated his cock in that case.
Talia sat down and lifted her legs onto the couch, resting her back against a fluffy pillow on the armrest. Exhaustion seemed to kick in as soon as she was off her feet. She deflated against the cushions, closing her eyes on an exhale. The line of stitches on her face served as a constant reminder of what happened last night.
Because of him.
Protective instincts he hadn’t felt for years rose to the surface. Nothing else would happen to her. Somehow, he’d find a way to keep her safe. That would mean enlisting the help of his club, which would require some fancy maneuvering. He didn’t relish lying to his club more than he already had, but he had to find a way to keep her out of the DEA or cartel’s crosshair.
She’d kick him in the balls if she could hear him making plans without her approval.
He cleared his dry throat. “Can I… can I get you anything? Water, or do you need something to eat?”
She blinked, and a look of surprise crossed her face. “Oh. Um, don’t worry about it. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need you waiting on me.”
Pulse snorted. “It’s a fucking glass of water. I’m not offering white-glove service.”
Talia chuckled, but it was stiff. “Okay, well, I guess I could use a drink, thank you. There’s a pitcher of water in the fridge. And glasses in the cabinet next to the fridge. Thank you. This is really nice of you.”
For real? Was she so unaccustomed to someone offering to do anything for her that a simple glass of water seemed like a huge deal?
That would change if she spent much time around his club. They were so intertwined in each other’s lives, constantly helping and easing each other’s burdens. He almost smiled as he imagined how prickly she’d be as she learned to let his family in.
He fetched the water—she had lemons floating in the damn pitcher—and returned to the living room. Their fingers brushed as he handed the glass over. Hers were so soft compared to his. He had the strong urge to slide his hand up her arm to feel her silky skin, but he resisted and pulled away to sit at the opposite end of the couch, near her feet—a much safer distance than before.
“Thanks again,” she said as she lifted the glass to her lips.
Pulse glanced away. He couldn’t risk watching her mouth with all these weird feelings messing with his head.
“So, uh… what’s the plan, Pulse?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? He rubbed a hand over his chin. It itched as it always did if he didn’t shave daily. “Don’t have one yet. I’ve got a guy I need to call who can dig into this for us. I’ll have more for you after I talk to him.”
“Okay.” She drummed her nails against the side of the glass. “Hey, do you think I’m safe? Here at my house, I mean. Do you think they’d come for me here? I mean, I can handle myself. I just want to be prepared.”
The vulnerability in her voice punched the air out of his chest. It had to be killing her to voice concern. Of course, she couldn’t admit she might be unable to manage this all alone.
“Should I get a big dog or something?” she asked with a forced laugh.
He grinned. “Yes, to the dog, but that’s only half for protection. The other half is because everyone needs a dog.”
That had her laugh sounding much more genuine. “Do you have a dog?”
“No. But that’s because I’m in a tiny-ass apartment and have my heart set on getting a mastiff. As soon as I purchase a house, I’ll get one, though.”
“Nice. Growing up, I always wanted a big dog, but my father was allergic.”
“Now’s your chance.”
“I’d love to, but I work so much. Plus, I don’t think I’m the nurturing kind. I’m too Type A. A poor dog would probably hate living with me.”
Pulse frowned. What a sad thing to think about herself, especially when the evidence proved otherwise. Hadn’t she just gone out of her way to comfort him while he bared his soul? For someone who presented with such confidence, Talia needed someone to clue her into what a fantastic person she was.
He wasn’t the man to take that on. Not when he was drowning in his issues.
“To answer your question, yes. You’re safe here.”
“You sound certain.”
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.
As he drove off, he ran through his next steps. Another call to Birdy topped the list now that he had protection for Talia sorted.
What a shitty twenty-four hours.
At least he could work on this problem, knowing that Talia was safe, and his club would protect her.
Who knew what would happen if they found out why he was worried about her?