Page 47 of Undercover Hearts
"The shipment arrives at midnight, followed by processing at the warehouse," Sienna was explaining. "By morning, distribution assignments will be made."
"Any particular role you'd like us to play?" Jenna asked.
Kendall joined their circle. "Observation only for your first operation. Assessment of your particular skills will determine future involvement."
Throughout the evening, Jenna absorbed every detail: warehouse security protocols, distribution routes, financialarrangements. Each piece of information captured by their recording devices built the case that would bring down the entire operation.
She found herself studying these women with complicated feelings. Their intelligence and organizational skills would be admirable in another context. Yet beneath their polished masks lurked the uncomfortable truth: these women had built their empire on exploitation and death. The pending betrayal of their trust felt simultaneously necessary and troubling.
As the gathering wound down, Isabella approached them once more.
"Until tomorrow," she said. "I look forward to seeing your potential fully realized."
After Isabella departed, Kendall provided final instructions.
"Arrival at the beach house is scheduled for four tomorrow. Security protocols will be explained on site. Phones and personal electronics remain in your vehicles."
Only when they were driving away did Jenna allow her professional mask to slip.
"We got everything," she said, excitement threading through her voice. "Confirmation of Isabella's direct involvement, specifics on customs bribery, Nicole's connection to Beatrice—all recorded."
Michelle's hands relaxed fractionally on the steering wheel. "Operation completed as planned."
As they drove through Phoenix Ridge's quiet streets, a sense of accomplishment settled between them. Eleven days ago, they'd entered this operation as strangers with fabricated identities. Now they were partners in the truest sense, theirconnection forged through shared purpose and unexpected emotional bonds.
"I'd say this calls for celebration," Jenna said as they approached their building. "Mission accomplished."
Michelle glanced at her, something soft and unguarded in her expression. "Yes," she agreed quietly. "I believe it does."
The door to their apartment had barely closed behind them when Michelle pulled Jenna against her, the kiss carrying none of the hesitation that had marked their earlier encounters. This wasn't about maintaining cover or releasing tension—this was pure celebration, a shared acknowledgment of what they'd accomplished together.
"We did it," Michelle murmured against Jenna's lips. "Every piece of evidence we needed."
Jenna smiled, fingers tangling in Michelle's hair. "The recording devices automatically upload to the secure server. Chief Marten will have everything already."
"Which means," Michelle said, drawing back slightly, her eyes reflecting a rare unguarded joy, "we've earned this moment."
She moved to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of wine they'd purchased but never opened, the glasses clinking softly as she set them on the counter. Jenna slipped off her heels, settling on the couch with a contented sigh.
"How does it feel?" she asked as Michelle joined her. "Knowing three women will get justice?"
Michelle handed her a glass, their fingers brushing in the exchange. "Like purpose fulfilled. But also..." She paused, searching for words. "Bittersweet."
"Because of the women we couldn't save," Jenna suggested quietly.
"That," Michelle agreed, "and because of what comes next."
The unspoken reality hung between them. After tomorrow's operation, Michelle Rodriguez and Jenna Wolfe would cease to exist. Whatever they had built together would need to find a new form or fade entirely.
Jenna set her glass aside, shifting closer. "Let's not think about tomorrow. Not yet."
Jenna reached for Michelle, drawing her into another kiss that deepened immediately. Unlike their previous encounters, this carried no urgency, no desperate hunger. Instead, it held the quiet certainty of connection discovered rather than simply physical desire.
Michelle's hands moved with deliberate tenderness, each touch an exploration rather than a claiming. They finally made their way to the bedroom, their clothes left in a trail behind them.
Jenna sank into the mattress, her hair fanned out across the pillow. Michelle followed, settling beside her rather, her fingertips tracing idle lines along the curve of her ribs. They kissed again, slower this time—kisses that lingered and murmuredI see youbetween each breath.
Michelle took her time learning Jenna’s body all over again. Her mouth moved in a warm, unhurried path down her chest, pausing to kiss the space just beneath her breast before she took it gently between her lips. One of Jenna’s hands tangled loosely in Michelle’s hair, guiding her.