Page 49 of Undercover Hearts

Michelle's eyebrow rose. "Who says I have a tattoo?"

"An educated guess," Jenna replied, fingers trailing along Michelle's hip. "Something meaningful, I'd wager, but placed where no one would see it without intimate access."

Michelle captured her hand, bringing it to her lips. "Perhaps you'll earn the story behind it someday."

The simple phrase—someday—carried weight, acknowledging a future beyond tomorrow's operation. Jenna felt warmth bloom in her chest.

"Your turn," Michelle prompted. "Hidden talents?"

"I paint," Jenna confessed. "Watercolors mostly, occasionally oils. Nothing gallery-worthy, but it helps me process after difficult cases. Translating emotion into color and form."

Michelle studied her with newfound appreciation. "I'd like to see your work sometime."

"Someday," Jenna echoed with a smile.

The conversation flowed with surprising ease, revelations small and large unfolding between them as night deepened around the apartment. Michelle spoke of her brothers—one teaching high school physics in San Diego, the other following their father into military service. Jenna shared stories of growing up in a coastal town where everyone knew her name, her years studying psychology before switching to criminal justice after a chance encounter with a detective who'd helped her family when the bookstore was vandalized.

As dawn began painting the sky beyond their windows, Jenna realized they'd talked through the entire night, professional boundaries completely dissolved. In their place had grown something neither had anticipated when this operation began—genuine connection, understanding, and a tenderness that transcended their cover identities.

Michelle's phone chimed softly—the alarm they'd set as precaution, though neither had slept.

"Six hours until we need to leave for the beach house," Michelle noted, making no move to rise from their shared bed.

"Plenty of time," Jenna murmured, settling closer.

Michelle's arm wrapped around her, drawing her against the warm curve of her body. "For?"

"For this," Jenna replied simply, resting her head on Michelle's shoulder. "Just being here, together, before we have to be anyone else."

Michelle's lips pressed against her forehead, a tender gesture she would have found unimaginable from the reserved captain just days ago.

"I never expected this," Michelle admitted, voice low and intimate. "You. Us. When I chose you for this operation, I was looking for competence, adaptability. I never considered..."

"That we'd fit together so perfectly?" Jenna finished when Michelle's words trailed off.

"That I'd find it difficult to imagine going back," Michelle confessed, the vulnerability in her voice striking Jenna deeply.

The admission hung between them, neither fully addressing what it might mean after the operation concluded. Instead, Jenna nestled closer, drawing the blanket over them both.

"Then don't think about going back," she whispered. "Think about moving forward, together."

Michelle's arms tightened around her, no verbal response necessary. As sunlight began filtering through the curtains, they finally drifted into sleep, bodies intertwined in the quiet sanctuary they'd created within their borrowed lives.

Jenna's last conscious thought before sleep claimed her was the realization that somewhere along the way, the pretense of falling in love with Michelle had transformed into reality—a truth both simpler and more complex than any cover identity could encompass. Whatever tomorrow brought, that truthwould remain, waiting for them to claim it beyond the bounds of their operation.

11

MICHELLE

Phoenix Ridge Police Department's tactical operations room hummed with focused energy as Michelle laid out the final pieces of evidence gathered during the undercover operation. The space—windowless, secure, and designed for private planning—felt both familiar and strangely distant after nearly two weeks living as Michelle Rodriguez.

"The shipment arrives tomorrow at midnight," Michelle explained, indicating the satellite imagery of Sienna's beach house displayed on the wall-mounted screens. "Four access points: the main entrance here, service road here, private dock for the actual delivery, and this hiking trail that connects to public land."

Chief Diana Marten studied the images with shrewd assessment, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a practical knot, her posture reflecting the authority that had made her the department's most respected leader. Beside her, Lieutenant Angela Hodges made rapid notes while Detective Julia Scott reviewed the intelligence files with narrowed eyes.

"The evidence is comprehensive," Chief Marten noted, flipping through the surveillance transcripts. "Isabella Garcia'sdirect involvement connects this to international trafficking networks we've been tracking for months."

Michelle nodded, hyperaware of how her voice changed when she shifted to details Jenna had gathered. "Detective Walsh secured confirmation of customs bribery arrangements and mapped the distribution network stretching from Seattle to San Diego." The professional designation—Detective Walsh instead of Jenna—felt strange on her tongue after days of intimacy.