Page 31 of Undercover Hearts

Michelle returned to the conference room, moving to Jenna's side. She placed a hand lightly at the small of Jenna's back, communicating a silent warning.

"Finding everything you need?" Michelle asked, her smile for the others but her eyes communicating to Jenna alone.

"Everything and more," Jenna replied, leaning slightly into Michelle's touch with easy affection. "The member database is going to be incredibly helpful for the interviews."

The meeting concluded with plans for the following week's issue, Jenna already assigned to interview three leadership-track members before the coastal retreat. As they prepared to leave, Michelle noted Kendall watching them from across the room, her expression unreadable but her attention unwavering.

"The opportunity to interview these women is exactly what we hoped for," Michelle said once they were safely in their car. "But Kendall's interest in you concerns me."

Jenna nodded. "She's not convinced about us. Not completely."

"The shipping manifest confirms everything we suspected," Michelle continued, pulling away from the PWC headquarters. "Educational materials from South America, quantities that make no sense for legitimate purposes."

"And I now have access to their member database," Jenna added. "Financial contributions, personal information, everything we need to map the organization's structure."

Michelle felt the familiar rush of an investigation falling into place, pieces connecting to form a clear picture of criminal activity. They were making rapid progress, exactly as planned.

Yet as she glanced at Jenna beside her, now reviewing notes from the meeting, Michelle couldn't fully suppress the concern rising alongside their professional success. The closer they got to the evidence they needed, the greater the danger became—especially to the woman who had somehow become far more than just a convenient replacement for Detective Fleming.

By the time they left PWC headquarters, afternoon had faded to early evening, the coastal air growing crisp as autumn asserted itself against summer's lingering warmth. Neither spoke as Michelle drove, taking a deliberately circuitous route through residential areas, doubling back twice before finally heading toward Seaside Park.

"Clean?" Jenna asked as they passed the university district, her gaze on the side mirror.

Michelle nodded. "No tails. But let's be thorough."

She pulled into a grocery store parking lot, circling twice before finding a space with clear visibility in all directions. They entered separately—Michelle first, Jenna following three minutes later—and moved through the store without acknowledging each other. Both purchased small items before exiting through different doors, reuniting at the car only after confirming no one had followed.

These precautions had become second nature during their nine days undercover, the choreography of counter-surveillance measures familiar. The dual identity had begun to feel oddly natural to Michelle—the relationship they performed in public flowing seamlessly into the professional partnership they maintained in private.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Seaside Park, a sprawling green space where joggers and dog-walkers provided ideal cover for their meeting. Michelle parked near the western entrance, scanning the area before nodding to Jenna.

"I see her," Jenna said, nodding toward a woman in a navy windbreaker seated on a bench facing the ocean, a newspaper open in her lap.

"Remember, walking path only. No paper transfers," Michelle reminded her, though she knew Jenna needed no such instruction. The precaution was more for herself—a verbal reinforcement of operational discipline when so much else between them had begun to blur.

They separated again, approaching from different directions. Michelle took the path that led directly past Detective Julia Scott's bench, not slowing her pace as she passed.

"Northeast corner, ten minutes," Julia murmured without looking up from her newspaper.

Michelle continued walking, circling the park's perimeter before making her way to the designated meeting point—a secluded area partially screened by ornamental grasses and overlooking a rocky beach access. She arrived to find Julia already waiting, Jenna approaching from the opposite direction.

"Clear?" Julia asked, eyes still scanning their surroundings.

"Clear," Michelle confirmed.

Julia nodded, professional demeanor softening slightly. "Good to see you both in one piece. Impressive progress reports so far."

"We've confirmed the shipment details," Michelle said. "Educational materials from Cartagena arriving at the port next Saturday, then transported to Sienna's coastal property during their leadership retreat. "The manifest I accessed today lists quantities inconsistent with legitimate educational purposes. Fifteen crates of 'workshop materials' for a retreat with only twenty participants."

Julia nodded, committing the details to memory rather than writing them down. "Chief Marten is coordinating with port authorities now. We'll have tactical teams in position when it arrives."

"There's more," Michelle continued. "Jenna has gained access to their membership database through the newsletter committee. Complete financial records, personal profiles—everything we need to map the organization's structure and potential money laundering patterns."

Something that might have been admiration flickered across Julia's face. "Nine days in and you've penetrated that far? Impressive."

"Jenna's work," Michelle acknowledged, surprised by the pride coloring her voice. "Her skill at building trust has been…remarkable."

Jenna glanced at her, clearly catching the unexpected praise.