1x2: Narc...

He pulled his service weapon from the right.

“No,” Marcus said, spitting blood from a cut lip. “Officer awake.”

“I’m wearing what keeps me alive,” Marcus said. 1x2 Narc...

“How many?” Marcus asked.

Tonight, the equation was about to collapse. He pulled his service weapon from the right

Carlos nodded toward Leo. “Your rat. He’s been singing to the feds about our supply chain. You didn’t know?”

1x2 , he thought. From now on, it’s just one. “How many

Detective Marcus Cole was a one-man equation the department didn’t like to solve. They called him “1x2”—one narcotics officer with two faces. By day, he was the golden boy of the DEA’s field office, clean-shaven, sharp-jawed, with a binder full of successful busts. By night, he sat across from the very men he was supposed to destroy, sipping whiskey from a glass they’d poured.

“What other matter?”

“Officer down?” the dispatcher asked.

Marcus didn’t move. His training said: Verify, then act. His gut said: You’re not a cop anymore. You crossed that line three months ago when you took the first bribe disguised as “expenses.”