Page 6 of Undercover Hearts
She pulled up Jenna's file again, reviewing it more thoroughly now. The professional credentials were solid and temperament evaluations promising. The undercover experience, while limited to smaller operations, demonstrated natural aptitude.
But none of that accounted for the inexplicable certainty Michelle had felt watching Jenna easily construct their cover story or the immediate sense that they could convincingly play a couple despite having just met.
That certainty wasn't rational. It wasn't based on evidence or procedure. It was instinct—the very thing Michelle typically warned younger officers against relying on.
Yet in her years of law enforcement, Michelle had learned that sometimes instinct was simply experience operating faster than conscious thought. And her instincts were telling her Jenna Walsh was exactly who they needed.
Whether that would prove brilliant or disastrous remained to be seen.
Michelle closed the file and turned to her evidence wall, studying the photographs of the three young women whose deaths had set this investigation in motion. Whatever doubts she harbored about her decision, one thing was certain: theydeserved justice. And this operation was their best chance at delivering it.
She couldn’t help the way Jenna’s beautiful hazel eyes and full lips lodged themselves in her head.
It niggled at her that she was attracted to Jenna. On one hand, it would certainly help their cover story.
On the other hand, it was entirely unprofessional.
"Let's hope I didn't just make a serious error in judgment, Detective Walsh," she murmured, reaching for her phone to call Chief Marten and confirm the personnel change.
2
JENNA
Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains of Jenna Walsh's apartment, dust motes dancing in the golden beams. Outside, Phoenix Ridge was already alive with morning sounds—the distant hum of vehicles, an occasional car horn, and the rhythmic rumble of a delivery truck backing up. Jenna had been awake since five, too wired to sleep past dawn despite having stayed up late reviewing the operation files Captain Reyes had sent over.
She sipped her coffee—strong, black, the good beans she'd splurged on to celebrate her transfer—and surveyed the chaos of her living room. Open suitcases and duffel bags covered most of the floor space, civilian clothes sorted into careful piles. Casual without being sloppy. The kind of wardrobe a former executive assistant turned business consultant might own.
"Michelle Rodriguez and Jenna Wolfe," she murmured, testing the cover names on her tongue.
Twenty-four hours ago, she'd been processing transfer paperwork and arranging her new desk in the detective bullpen. Now she was preparing for deep cover in a major drugtrafficking investigation. The opportunity was beyond anything she'd hoped for when requesting the transfer to Phoenix Ridge.
Jenna folded a forest green blouse—similar to the one she'd worn yesterday, which she'd noticed Captain Reyes observing with approval—and placed it carefully in the suitcase. She'd need to project confidence, competence, and just enough vulnerability to make their cover story convincing. Former colleagues turned lovers starting a business venture and a life together. A smile touched her lips at the irony. Her actual love life had been a series of brief relationships that inevitably crumbled under the weight of her dedication to the job.
The phone rang, her parents' number flashing on the screen. Jenna took a steadying breath before answering.
"Morning, Mom," she said, wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued folding clothes.
"Just checking you're settling in alright," Eleanor Walsh's warm voice came through, the familiar sounds of Seabreeze Books audible in the background—soft classical music, the chime of the register, her father's deep voice helping a customer. "Your brother says you haven't been answering his texts."
"Been busy," Jenna replied, selecting her words carefully. "New department, lots to learn."
"Any interesting cases yet? Your father's been telling everyone his daughter is solving big crimes in the city."
Jenna smiled despite herself. Her parents had always been supportive of her career choice, even though it had confused them initially. They'd assumed she'd take over the bookstore eventually, carrying on the family legacy of Seabreeze Books with its ocean views and carefully curated collection.
"Nothing I can talk about yet," she hedged. "But the department seems good."
"And the apartment? You mentioned the view was nice."
"It is." Jenna glanced toward her balcony, which offered a sliver of ocean view between two taller buildings. "I can see a bit of the water. Not like home, but it'll do."
The conversation continued for a few more minutes—updates on her younger sister's medical school progress, gossip about the coastal town she'd grown up in, her father taking the phone briefly to recommend a new mystery novel. Jenna kept her responses vague about her own situation, a practice that had become second nature during her undercover work in Coastal Heights.
After hanging up, she resumed packing with renewed focus. The operation briefing was scheduled for seven, which left her just enough time to finish gathering her belongings and grab something to eat on the way.
Jenna paused at her dresser, catching sight of herself in the mirror. She studied her reflection critically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—a nervous habit her mother had always tried to correct. The faint shadows under her eyes betrayed her restless night, and she noted the small scar above her right eyebrow from a childhood fall. She'd need concealer for that. Her father always said her eyes gave away her thoughts. In undercover work, she'd learned to modulate that transparency, keeping just enough openness to seem approachable while guarding her true reactions. She straightened her posture, watching how the slight adjustment transformed her presence from casual to confident, a chameleon's skill she'd honed through years of practice.
But would it be enough for this operation? Captain Reyes had been clear about the stakes: three dead women, a sophisticated drug trafficking network, and a narrow window to gather the necessary evidence.