Page 54 of Undercover Hearts

"I've mapped the satellite coordinates for our extraction points," she said without preamble. "Primary rendezvous at the northern property boundary, secondary at the marina service road, and tertiary at the coastal trail junction."

Jenna nodded, matching Michelle's professional tone despite the ache it triggered. "I've verified our recording devices. Both pendants are transmitting clearly, and the modified watch beacon signals are registering on Morgan's system."

"Good." Michelle set the tablet between them, displaying the beach house layout. "The shipment arrives at the private dock at 11 p.m. hours. Tactical teams move at 11:10 p.m., giving us precisely ten minutes to reach extraction point alpha."

"And if we're separated?"

Something flickered across Michelle's face—concern, perhaps—before her expression smoothed. "Standard protocol. Each proceeds to the nearest extraction point independently."

The clinical response hurt more than it should have. Twelve days ago, they'd been strangers. Now, after living in each other's space, learning each other's rhythms, sharing thoughts never meant for case files, the return to formal distance felt like a loss.

"Beatrice, Gabrielle, and Angelica deserve justice," Jenna said quietly, invoking the names of the three women whose deaths had launched their investigation. "Tonight delivers that, at least."

Michelle's gaze softened momentarily. "Yes. That's what matters most."

"Is it?" The question slipped out before Jenna could reconsider.

Michelle tensed visibly. "What else would matter?"

"Nothing." Jenna retracted immediately, frustrated by her own vulnerability. "You're right. The operation comes first."

She rose from the table, moving to gather her equipment from the coffee table. The surveillance pendant felt heavier than usual as she fastened it around her neck, its weight a reminder of purpose. Her first major undercover operation with Phoenix Ridge PD. Her chance to establish her reputation in the new department. Professional satisfaction that should have been enough.

Yet as she checked her concealed backup weapon—a slim .380 secured in an ankle holster—Jenna found herself caught between pride in their imminent success and a persistent hollowness that had nothing to do with operational concerns.

"Security sweep confirmed no electronic surveillance in the safe house," Michelle reported, moving toward the window with tablet in hand. "Plainclothes officers are in position at adjacent properties."

Jenna recognized the behavior from their early days together: Michelle retreating to the window when emotion threatened her control. The familiarity of the gesture only emphasized how quickly they'd learned each other's patterns.

"We should review Nicole's questioning tactics," Jenna suggested, focusing on practical matters. "Her interrogation style during my spotlight interview followed specific patterns we should prepare for tonight."

Michelle turned back from the window, professional gratitude evident in her nod. "Smart. She tends to circle back to inconsistencies after seemingly unrelated topics."

"Exactly. And she watches hands, not eyes, for signs of deception."

They fell into case analysis with ease. For twenty minutes, they functioned as the seamless team they'd become, anticipating each other's thoughts, building on observations, and filling gaps without explicit coordination. The natural synchronicity only highlighted what was being deliberately held at bay.

As they completed the threat assessment, Jenna found herself pausing, words hovering on the edge of utterance.

But Michelle had already turned away, gathering equipment with deliberate focus. "Final communications check at 3 p.m. Departure for the beach house at 4 p.m. We should pack."

The moment for personal truth dissolved like morning fog. Jenna straightened her shoulders, disappointment transmuting into determination. If Michelle needed this professional distance to function effectively, Jenna would respect it.

"I'll verify the emergency transmitters again," she said, matching Michelle's professional tone perfectly. "If Kendall's suspicions have deepened overnight, we should be prepared for heightened scrutiny."

"Agreed." Michelle hesitated, then added, "Your ability to adapt under pressure will be critical tonight. If we're separated?—"

"I'll maintain cover until extraction becomes necessary," Jenna completed the thought automatically. "I know the protocols."

"I know you do," Michelle acknowledged, something almost apologetic in her expression. "You've proven yourself repeatedly throughout this operation."

The professional praise settled uncomfortably where personal connection had recently resided. Jenna nodded her acceptance without comment, then moved toward her bedroomto complete her preparations. In her peripheral vision, she caught Michelle watching her, an unreadable expression crossing her face before her professional mask resettled.

Tonight would conclude their first operation together. Evidence would be secured, arrests made, and justice delivered. Professional success by any measure. The fact that something more personal was ending simultaneously wasn't operational data. It wasn't relevant to case files or after-action reports.

Jenna closed her bedroom door with quiet finality. She had twenty minutes to secure her emotional defenses as thoroughly as Michelle had secured hers. Tonight belonged to Beatrice, Gabrielle, and Angelica. Personal revelations could wait.

If they still mattered afterward.