You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 125 Carlos's Secret

That afternoon, the Seattle sun was still shining brightly.

Lyon slept soundly at home, washing away the fatigue from working non-stop the night before. When he woke up, it was already past three in the afternoon.

He quickly washed up, changed his clothes, and went out.

On his way to Harbourview Medical Centre, he stopped at a roadside convenience store and bought a fruit basket.

This was a habit he carried over from his previous life; one could never visit someone in the sick empty-handed.

When I pushed open the door to the private hospital room, it was very quiet inside. Carlos had just undergone surgery to remove and reposition the broken bones in his knee.

Although the anesthesia had worn off, his entire left leg was now in a thick cast, hanging high in the air, staring blankly at the ceiling with nothing to do.

Upon hearing the door open, Carlos turned his head sharply.

Upon seeing Lyon walk in carrying a fruit basket, the annoyance on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a visibly tense expression, and he subconsciously swallowed.

"Boss—you're here." Carlos greeted him dryly.

"Um."

Lyon walked over, casually placed the fruit basket on the bedside table, and then pulled over a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He glanced around; the ward was quiet, with no nurses or anyone else in sight.

Then, he glanced at Carlos's leg that was hanging up.

"What did the doctor say? Is my knee completely ruined?"

"It's broken."

Carlos's eyes dimmed, and he gave a bitter laugh. "My meniscus and patella are completely ruined. They have several steel pins in there. The doctor said that even if I recover well, I'll still walk with a limp and won't be able to run or jump."

"Then there's no other choice."

Lyon nodded; this was roughly the same assessment he had made at the scene last night.

"In that case, let's talk about something more practical."

Leon leaned back in his chair and looked at Carlos: "According to police department practice, someone like you who suffers a permanent physical disability in the line of duty is basically out of the running."

"There are two options now. Either I'll have Raymond help you apply for more disability benefits so you can retire early due to illness and become a security guard at a supermarket, sitting and watching the security cameras."

"Either you apply for a transfer to the archives department in the basement of the branch office, or go to the dispatch center to answer phones, and just wait until the day you can collect your pension."

Upon hearing this, Carlos's already pale face instantly turned bright red.

"No! No way!"

He abruptly straightened up, the movement aggravating his wound and causing him to gasp in pain. He ignored it, staring intently at Leon, his voice unusually agitated: "Boss, I can't leave! I absolutely cannot take a clerical job, and I absolutely cannot retire!"

"I must stay in ACU, even if all I can do is sit in the office helping you review surveillance footage and search for information, I have to stay on the front lines!"

Lyon raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes as he looked at Carlos's excited expression.

To be honest, he really didn't expect Carlos to react to this extent.

What is ACU? It's a meat grinder where people fight gangsters to the death on the streets every day.

Carlos's leg is now crippled. Even if he enjoys this kind of exciting life, logically speaking, for the sake of his own safety, he should have accepted the offer to retire peacefully with a stipend.

Leon originally thought that this guy would take the opportunity to play the victim, complain a bit, and then ask him to use his privilege as team leader to help him get a more generous compensation for his medical retirement or his clerical job benefits.

And this guy actually insisted on staying in this dangerous department? He's willing to risk his life for a little attendance bonus and extra money?

This reaction is highly abnormal.

However, since he has something to ask for, things become much easier.

"Okay. We can discuss that."

Leon ignored Carlos's excitement and said in a calm tone, "Since you want to stay so much, let's get straight to the point."

"With my current authority, even if you were in a wheelchair, it wouldn't be difficult for me to force you into an office as an intelligence analyst. I'll put in a word with Director Sterling, and she'll give me that kind of face."

Carlos was about to show a look of joy.

"But why should I keep you here?"

He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, and looked directly into Carlos's eyes, an instant sense of oppression rising within him: "Carlos, you have a secret that makes me very uncomfortable."

"And this secret of yours will most likely threaten me, or this team. To be honest, I've never trusted you since the first day I walked into the office and tripped Kevin."

"You slipped me money in the parking lot to test my limits, and you hung out with those rich kids, scheming and manipulating things. I saw through you a long time ago that you're two-faced."

Lyon stared at him, his eyes sharp as knives: "However, you're lucky. At least so far, you've been behaving yourself and haven't done anything out of line under my nose."

"Especially last night."

Lyon pointed to Carlos's leg in a cast: "When you went to catch that human trafficker, you were a little too eager. You're usually a slippery guy who shrinks back when there's danger, but last night you didn't even bother with the most basic tactical maneuvers, you just kicked the door open and traded your life with him."

"You lost control of your emotions. Otherwise, with your experience, you wouldn't have ended up kneeling in that shabby hotel."

"Just because of your daring and fighting spirit last night, if it weren't for the secret you're hiding that I consider a potential threat, even if your disobedient behavior is like that of an idiot, I would be willing to make an exception and force you to stay at ACU."

Leon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him: "But things are different now."

"If you want to stay, you'd better let me know what kind of person you really are."

"Speak up. Make things clear. Who are you working for? And why are you insisting on staying at ACU?"

The ward was deathly silent.

Carlos took a deep breath, then slumped against the pillows, staring at the fluorescent light on the ceiling, his voice hoarse: "It's the Sinaloa Group."

"That—the drug cartel over there in Mexico."

"I was an informant planted by those Mexicans in the Seattle Police Department."

Leon raised an eyebrow, glancing somewhat surprised at his subordinate on the bed, whose face was ashen.

This was somewhat unexpected; it was even more advanced than he had imagined.

He originally thought that Carlos had at most been bought off by some big local gang, such as the Bloods or some biker gang, or that he had been controlled by some high-ranking police officer who wanted to instigate internal strife.

I never expected this kid to have such a powerful background, directly connected to that top-tier drug trafficking group south of the border that everyone fears.

Compared to those Mexican drug lords who have private armies and treat beheadings as a daily greeting, Seattle's 12th...

The Street Boys are like elementary school kids who only know how to play house.

"Mexican?"

"It's a bit more sophisticated than I imagined, but in the end it's still just the same old gangster stuff."

"Go on. These drug lords went to all that trouble to put you in the ACU, just so you could send me money?"

What exactly do you do for them? Transport drugs? Or kill them to cover your tracks?

"No, it's not that low-class."

Carlos shook his head. Although he was weak, his thoughts were still clear when it came to specific business matters: "They don't need me to personally transport that powder. That would be a waste of my status."

"My main job is to use my authority at ACU, through you, to take down their business competitors."

"for example?"

"For example—if a batch of goods on the market is not sourced from them, or if some local gangs, reckless as they are, want to refine the goods themselves and bypass them to operate independently."

Carlos explained, "The Mexicans would give me the intelligence. And then, as the detective in charge of the informant network, I would naturally contribute that intelligence to the ACU."

"Then, we'll rush in like mad dogs, wipe out those competitors, and seize all their goods."

"As a result, a vacuum was created in the market. Local gangs lost their supply and had no choice but to turn to the people of Sinaloa to accept their high wholesale prices in order to maintain their business."

"In addition to that, I'm also responsible for providing internal information. For example, what type of drugs the department plans to crack down on recently, or which neighborhoods to focus on monitoring, like the industrial area a few days ago."

"I need to inform them in advance. Tell them where they can go, where they can't go, or when they should lie low."

"That's all?" Leon asked.

"That's about it." Carlos nodded. "After all, I'm just the driver, and I don't have much access to the core decision-making process."

"Okay, it sounds like you're actually pretty useful."

Lyon nodded, then changed the subject, his eyes sharpening: "So, here comes the most crucial question."

"How did you get in touch with these people? Was it for money? Or was your family kidnapped?"

"Generally speaking, there are only two reasons why police officers go undercover: either greed or fear."

Looking at Carlos's conflicted face, Leon immediately offered his guess.

Carlos was taken aback by those words.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he could only nod dejectedly and admit, "————Yes."

"My ex-wife—and my daughter."

But the expression on his face was strange; it wasn't just pain and anger, but also a hint of shame and evasion.

Lyon keenly grasped this point.

"Don't squeeze it out like toothpaste, Carlos."

Leon said coldly, "I don't like riddles. Your expression tells me things aren't that simple. I want to hear the whole story. How did you get involved with them?"

Carlos closed his eyes, remained silent for a few seconds, and then said in a self-deprecating tone, "Because I owe money."

"A lot of money."

"About two years ago, I borrowed a large sum of money at exorbitant interest rates through a shady lending company. It was the kind of company that didn't check credit scores and just gave me cash after I signed. At the time, I didn't think much of it and just assumed it was a regular underground money lender."

"But I didn't expect that the company was actually part of the Sinaloa money laundering network."

"They ignored me at first, until one time I couldn't pay back the money, they checked my background and found out that I was actually a policeman, and from the West District Special Operations Unit."

"Therefore, the nature of it changed."

"They don't want the money anymore, they want me."

"And then?" Leon pressed. "What happened to your family?"

"My wife—Elena."

Carlos's voice trembled: "Because I've been a compulsive gambler, I've lost all the family's money and am now drowning in debt. She left me with our daughter over a year ago and we've completely cut off all contact."

"I don't even know where they moved to. I only know that they want to stay far away from me, and I'm too ashamed to go looking for them."

"But those Mexicans have been found."

"When I refused to cooperate, they sent me a video. Elena and my daughter were tied to chairs with rags stuffed in their mouths—"

"They said if I didn't obey, if I didn't go to ACU and become their dog, I could just wait to be collected as spare parts."

At this point, Carlos clutched the bedsheet in anguish.

5

'

The ward fell silent once again.

Looking at the man in front of him, whose face was full of regret, Leon raised his hand and rubbed his temples hard, feeling a headache coming on.

really.

Gambling addict.

Lyon let out a long sigh.

From the first day I entered the office and saw this guy running a betting platform, to later seeing his behavior at the dinner party where he hung out with those rich kids.

He knew this guy was a hopeless gambler.

I'm really good at judging people.

Lyon turned his head and looked at Carlos's leg, which was in a cast, with a complicated expression.

Although this guy is a scoundrel, his reckless behavior in the kidnapping of that little girl shows that he still has some conscience left, or perhaps his guilt towards his own daughter is reflected in that little girl.

After a moment of silence, Lyon finally spoke.